Author Archives: Linda

When Christmas seems to fail us…

09 Thursday Jan 2014

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Well, that’s finally finished! I packed and put away all of the Christmas decorations, linens and dishes. It was a bittersweet job. As I sorted, wrapped, packed and hauled box after box back to the basement I though about what I had hoped for during the holidays and what actually happened. I realized the entire season went by and I spent very little time listening to Christmas music. I didn’t bake as much as one Christmas cookie. Okay, there were miniature brioche, stollen, pannettone, bagels and my usual sourdough baguettes – but no cookies. It’s too late to do it now. Really, who wants spritz and krumkake in January? It’s as if Christmas came and went and I missed part of the traditions that are supposed to make it special and important.

I thought about the lunch I had with a friend about a week before Christmas. Much of our conversation focused on life issues – you know, the ‘yuck’ of life that we never expect to be present during the holiday season. I mean, it should be all fa-la-la and jingle bells, right? And, the weekend before Christmas the church around the corner had 2 funerals…in one day! Really? Not at Christmas! That’s just an insult to the season.

The buzz of conversation in the restaurant muted the background Christmas music. After plenty of coffee, I made my way to the restroom. The stillness there allowed me to hear Bing Crosby lament about white Christmases, elusive traditions and bygone sentimentalities. It brought back memories of less than perfect Christmases in my own life…seasons that were supposed to be joyful, but were instead tainted with family issues and emotional struggles.  I recalled the Christmas my daughter was deployed and I had to fight off the tears each time I heard any rendition of I’ll Be Home For Christmas, a song from 1943 that comes from the perspective of WWII troops. Or last year when she was unable to take leave to come home from her assigned base at Pearl Harbor. Mele Kalikimaka had the same effect. My lament was that this special time of year was supposed to be different. Worries, sadness, loss, frustrations, loneliness and all of the emotions we generally hope to avoid are supposed to go away for a few weeks. We long to be wrapped in good feelings, family and love so completely that gloominess and spiders just go away. Well, maybe not spiders. They are simply on my mind from so many trips into the cave of a basement that supports our 1930’s home. I am convinced they have spent generations taking over that space and are just waiting to jump when I walk through their territory. Truth be told, I didn’t see even one…I just know they have to be there.

The thing is, life seems to tick away without regard for our expectations whether they are for a perfect Christmas or finding spiders. It simply is what it is.

Amazingly, therein lies the secret and beauty of Christmas. Christ came to give us hope that “nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)

The yuck of life will happen. It doesn’t matter if it is mid-July or late-December. The difference is, in the quiet hours of a winter night love was and continues to be revealed to us, not to take away the difficulties presented by life, but to walk with us and guide us on this crazy journey while continuously reminding us that the one who created us loves us more than we can imagine and nothing that life can throw at us will ever change that.

Elves, wreaths, purpose and meaning…

12 Thursday Dec 2013

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UnknownI guess I am the last person to find out about The Elf on the Shelf. I’m not quite sure how I missed it. Maybe because my kids are grown? Although I still frequent the card shops that litter them around the store. I just didn’t see it as anything other than a cute, Christmassy decoration. Little did I know the magnitude of its purpose and meaning, which I shall try to paraphrase. It’s like this little guy’s job is to live in a household or a classroom as be a hotline to Santa, reporting in on a daily basis about the behavior of the community he lives in. Seems Santa needs some help – something that can be seen and, unlike previous generations who were plagued by the thought of Santa’s unrestricted observations, not left to the imagination. His level of frustration results from being sent away from the North Pole where all the other elves get to make toys and is manifested in little impish acts which are observed by multitudes of children each morning. I am not part of this tradition so I have some questions that may seem to have obvious answers. I mean, if the elf is supposed to elicit good behavior in children, how do you explain the elf’s indiscretions? And, why is good behavior only important right before Christmas? No one notices the other 11 months? Obviously there is a piece of the lore that I missed…

As I pondered this phenomena, it occurred to me that in like manner there are traditions in the church that hold deeper meanings that aren’t readily understood. The advent wreath comes to mind. Now, it’s pretty common knowledge amongst Christians that the wreath holds four candles that surround one large white candle. The four candles can be red …or purple…or blue and the candle for the third week can be pink or rose…or it can be purple or blue or red. Each candle is representative of a specific word or thought, depending on the denomination presenting the information. They might be prophecy, Bethlehem, shepherd or angel. Or they might be hope, preparation, joy, and love. The second candle might also be called the peace candle. The center candle is universally thought of as the Christ candle and is always white. The wreath itself is a symbol of God’s all encompassing love that has no beginning and no end. Although there is no consensus on whether this tradition came before or after the beginning of Christianity, some speculate a wreath was decorated with candles during the dark of winter in pre-Christian Germany as a symbol of hope and encouragement that spring would certainly come. With the array of details surrounding the Advent wreath, it’s no wonder so many of us simply sit back and watch each week as a candle is lit, recognizing that the countdown to Christmas is well on it’s way. By the time the fourth candle is lit, many of us are in a mild state of apoplexy hoping that we will still have time to accomplish the myriad of things we feel the need to complete before the Big Day.

But, what if we look at the wreath as more that a seasonal calendar? What if we ponder and reflect on the meaning behind the candle of the week and carry that meaning into the world as we go about our business? Instead of a countdown, the wreath might become a reminder of the message Christ brought to us.

Let’s call the first candle “hope”. Hope is an amazing thing! It’s the realization that there is something to be learned in the midst of the worst life can throw at us. It’s seeing the humor in a distressing situation. Hope is optimism, even when something is as bleak as a cold winter night. It’s recognizing goodness in people, even when those people seem to be the reason for our stress. Although, sometimes our perception of hope needs help. In those moments it helps to consciously identify gratitude in and through and about the thing that is making life difficult. Maybe it’s cold outside, but it makes the cocoa taste just that much better. Maybe a loved one lives far, far away, but you live in the era of cell phones and emails. Maybe the illness doesn’t have a good prognosis, but you find the people around you are bringing meals and love into your home. Maybe the checkout line is long and slow, but you have time to breathe deep and relax while you wait for your turn. Hope can change anxiety and stress into the realization that life might suck at the moment, but there is something amazing just around the corner.

The peace candle is lit on the second week. There is an amazing song played primarily during the holiday season. The first lines take us from world peace to inner peace. “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me; let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.” What if we felt that kind of peace inside of us? The Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:6-7 tells us, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (NRSV) Okay, when we turn this one inside out, we find encouragement not to stress over a given situation, to chat about it with God through prayer, remembering to find that nugget of gratitude. It’s like we look back to the hope candle and forward to the Christ candle to find that place where we experience peace. Then, when we really, truly feel peace, we can’t help but interact with others without defenses, power grabs, criticisms, judgment, or any of the other things that work against getting along. And…if we can find that sense of peace as we interact in our homes, our work, and our neighborhoods, maybe others will feel it and share it leading to that elusive peace on earth.

Week three seems pretty obvious when as we come off of weeks one and two. How could we feel anything but joy when we realize hope and peace are possible? Romans 15:13 states, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” (NRSV) Interesting how these three words – hope, peace and joy – keep intertwining in and through and around Christ, who came to us as God incarnate.

It’s fitting that the last candle on the wreath is “love”. Think about it. The first letter to the Corinthians states, ““Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (12: 4-8) This passage includes all of the candles on the wreath! Hope, peace, joy and love!

The final candle is found in the center of the wreath. Unlike the variety of colors and words assigned to the other four candles, this is always called the Christ candle and is always white. Christ is at the center of hope, peace, joy and love and hope, peace, joy and love all point to Christ. Imagine it as if Christ sparks energy and light into all of the other candles and they in turn build on that energy as it returns back toward Christ. It’s like breathing in and out or the ocean’s rhythms through its ebbs and tides. Christ at the center, humanity emulating Christ…back and forth until God’s will is achieved on earth as it is in heaven.

A simple wreath with a few candles guides us through the season of Advent, reminding us of what and who is important as we progress toward Christmas day. Take time each week to focus on the candle making it your mantra as you go about your business, your shopping, at home, at celebrations and in your quiet meditations.

The backside of waiting…

05 Thursday Dec 2013

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Can you remember what it was like to wait when you were a child? The period of time from one Christmas to the next was an eternity. I remember waking up the morning after Christmas feeling somewhat depressed that a WHOLE YEAR had to go by before we could enjoy the season once again. By July, one could look back and realize that time was moving in the right direction. After all, seven months had passed. Only 5 more to go until Christmas – that special day when we saw family, ate amazing food, had an endless array of cookies and opened gifts hoping to fulfill our deepest expectations.

The thing is, there were actually other markers along the way. A birthday; another year of school finished and the beginning of a new grade level; puppies being born; a move to a new city; celebrations with family for a birth, an anniversary or maybe a death; travels; braces on, braces off; and the list goes on. In spite of anticipation for certain events in the future, the space between then and now is where life actually happens. Each moment is full of opportunity, experience and the potential for learned wisdom. The irony is the period of waiting for that special occasion is the actual reality while the anticipated event can be a distraction from those things that tumble and form us into the self we are or the self we are to become.

Tradition tells us Advent is a period of waiting and preparation. If you really think about it, preparation for an event should be proportional to what we are waiting for. When we wait the long nine months for a baby to be born, we prepare a place for that child in our homes. A room gets painted, a crib is purchased, a closet or dresser is cleared out to make room for diapers, blankets and those precious little clothes we blissfully purchase with abandon. Showers offer us time to celebrate with friends and family as they share gifts with us intended to welcome the little one into our home. Step by step we prepare so that we can be somewhat ready to take on the role of parenting when the baby finally arrives.

Then there is the preparation we find ourselves in before Christmas…Oh my… In four short weeks we decorate, shop, wrap, bake, cook, clean, plan parties, attend parties, smile, wonder why we are so exhausted, smile some more and so it goes. Consumer marketing has taught us that we are preparing for the ultimate day complete with perfectly and thoughtfully selected and impeccably wrapped gifts for our family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and general acquaintances. Homes are decorated beyond belief. The single Christmas tree of the past is no longer enough. Each room takes on the aura of a winter wonderland complete with exquisite mantel displays, artfully decorated trees, seasonal centerpieces, dishes and linens while holiday vignettes procure every imaginable surface. However, it did occur to me one Christmas season that if I decorated all of our tables, shelves and flat surfaces with runners, florals and Christmas figurines, there would be nowhere for dust to accumulate thus limiting the amount of cleaning I would have to do throughout the season. That knowledge carried me through the hours of arranging and rearranging necessary to create the seasonal images I had grown to believe were necessary. Additionally, one must design and send Christmas cards imprinted with a breathtaking family portrait, stuffed with the obligatory letter to highlight how special our year was and properly personalized with calligraphy lettered salutations and envelopes. The final and most spectacular event is the meal itself. But wait! The Christmas meal is no longer enough. Calorie laden feasts are presented on Christmas Eve, Christmas brunch and Christmas dinner. I’m overwhelmed just writing about it. The thought of actually completing all of the preparations puts me in a catatonic state. I’m not convinced this is the preparation tradition intended for us.

It is wise to re-think what we are waiting for during Advent. If we are awaiting the perfect Christmas events, then our preparations will look like the scenario depicted in the previous paragraph. But, is that truly what we are waiting for? Our ancient relatives longed for the Messiah. As they waited, they got up every day; went to work; ate regular meals; shared seasonal celebrations with their families, friends and neighbors; cried; laughed; mourned; and experienced the best and the worst of life. They waited for that unexpected day when a child was born in the City of Bethlehem and watched as the child grew into a man of great wisdom and character – a man who taught them about love, acceptance and compassion and what it looked like to live as God intended for humanity to live. In like fashion, we now wait for that perfect experience that will occur when He comes again to lead with mercy and justice. The odd thing is, our wait is no different than that of our ancestors. Truly, we should wait seeped in the ways of The One for whom we wait, recognizing He walks with us every moment of every day prompting us to share His ways with those who are diminished by society, finances or health. His ways never involved a bullhorn on a street corner complete with a sermonette about the awful things that will happen if you don’t do what the speaker says you need to do. His caring came in the form of a gentle touch, a shared meal, a simple acceptance of where a person stood in life and a compassionate nudge toward better choices.

Truth be told, I am currently surrounded by plastic crates filled with seasonal decorations to adorn our home as a means to announce to all who come here that we are waiting – and ready – for Christmas. I will bake decadent treats and plan a fabulous meal…or two…or three. I have begun the arduous task of finding wonderful gifts for family and friends. I have a ‘station’ set up with gift-wrap, tape, scissors and fabulous ribbons. I am preparing for the kind of Christmas made popular by the influence of retailers and the media. Yet, beneath it all I am preparing for the real Christmas. I’ll remember those who need a meal to get through a rough time; I’ll focus on the goodness of those whom I am seeking the perfect gift for; and I’ll take time to walk and meditate on the beauty of God in this world. In my weakest, nastiest, most stressed and anxious moments, I’ll try to remember that the memories of this day are not in the gifts, the decorations, or the meals. The true memories are in the moments when people come together with love and compassion to celebrate and share the love that God modeled for us on that starry night long ago.

Yes, the focus of our preparation must be consistent with what we are waiting for. How will you wait?

The Feast of Thanksgiving…

20 Wednesday Nov 2013

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Holidays083Look at the November issue of most magazines and you get the eerie and somewhat distorted perception that there are two general categories of people this time of year – those who prepare Thanksgiving dinner and those who show up with smiles and special new holiday clothes to enjoy it. Red plaid is good…a bow tie is even better! You might even see recipes for 15 ways to cook a turkey with 85 stuffing variations. The small print includes methods for leaving calories out of said meal or the perfect workout for when you realize you just consumed more food than a family of four should comfortably eat in a week’s time. Tucked into the perfectly posed pictures of perfect families around the perfectly decorated table with the perfectly presented meal is the message that this better be…well…perfect.

I remember Thanksgiving as a child. My grandparents set up a long table in their 2 bedroom, one level, tiny home. It stretched from the dining room straight through to the picture window in the living room, leaving only enough room for the Christmas tree.  Dinner had to be early enough so my grandmother could segue between meals from Thanksgiving dinner to Christmas. Immediately after the last dish from the main event was dried and put away, she pulled out turkey sandwiches and Christmas cookies. Her kitchen was small making it a real challenge to bake pies and rolls along with the turkey and a litany of mandatory side dishes. My job was to whip the cream with a rotary eggbeater just before the pie was served, being careful to get the perfect consistency. Not long enough would mean runny cream while too long would make the cream turn to butter. I wonder if this job was made special and important as a means to keep an excited little girl who couldn’t sit still standing in one spot long enough to get the table cleared without tripping over her. As I got older, I was allowed to carefully sort and put away the silver forks and spoons in their velvet lined wooden box. Aunt Helen brought scalloped oysters every year and Cousin Dorothy brought her son’s military picture to set by an empty chair when he was unable to come. Eventually, divorces, aging and ill health forced the tradition to change.  My memories remain unscathed. You see, as a child I thought Thanksgiving was a perfect day. Children don’t care if the potatoes are lumpy or if the dog was found gnawing on the turkey when no one was looking. They don’t care if Aunt Hilda had too much wine and caused an epic family meltdown. It’s still Thanksgiving and people have come together for a feast. To a child, calamities can make the day and the memories just that much better!

The tradition of Thanksgiving began in November of 1621, although the history we are taught often passes over an incredible story of unimaginable grace. We typically hear a story about the Native Americans who shared corn, pumpkin and turkey with the pilgrims at a potluck feast. The main focus is always on the pilgrims and how their faith and strength were rewarded as they made a primitive land their home. We don’t often hear the story of Squanto, a Native American who had been abducted by an English sea captain during an exploration of the North American coast in the early 1600’s. Through a series of events, Squanto returned to New England, only to be abducted once again by an Englishman with the intent of selling him to the Spaniards as a slave. Again, he managed to get away and returned home where he taught others this crazy new language he learned while on his ‘adventure’. It gets pretty amazing when you read that he saw the need of the struggling English colonists and helped them learn how to survive in this strange, new place. I mean, these were the countrymen of the people who held him captive not once, but twice. Because of the skills taught to them by Squanto, the pilgrims harvest was a success. In November of 1621 fifty-three pilgrims’  hosted 90 Native Americans at a 3-day festival. It included the celebratory feast we now refer to as “Thanksgiving.”

Now, let’s repeat this story one more time. Squanto, who was kidnapped by two Englishmen on two separate occasions, saw the need in the English settlers dire situation and stepped in to help. When the settlers were able to successfully grow, collect, fish, and hunt for their food using the skills Squanto taught them, they threw a little party and invited those who helped them along the way to come and enjoy a feast. The thing is, our traditions today have very little to do with the first Thanksgiving, other than showcasing turkey. Many Thanksgiving feasts have turned into a time of stress and frustration due to difficult family dynamics. Some find it to be a lonely day with no place to go and no one to share a meal with. Others may face it with sorrow as the once full table is occupied by only a few remaining souls and memories of the past. Our preoccupation with what is required to make the day perfect has skewed what made the first Thanksgiving special. That day was about broken, damaged people who came together as a community in spite of their differences to give thanks to God and – I have to believe – to those who had little reason to help them bit did it regardless…simply because they were people in need. They were thankful to be alive, thankful to have food and thankful that someone cared enough to help them along the way. I doubt anyone even noticed if the turkey was dry.

Maybe we have missed the point of this celebration.

A soapbox moment…

14 Thursday Nov 2013

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It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences. – Audre Lorde

Silly me…I commented on a Facebook post several years ago. It was a political post and seemed like a legitimate question. Someone on the left wanted to know the thoughts of someone on the right. Within moments of my response I became a homophobic, woman hating (!), arrogant, money grubbing, uncompassionate, pig. Okay, let’s be fair…I added ‘pig’ to the list. The thing is, I am none of the above. My problem is that I tend to question the effectiveness of bureaucracies. Because of that, people who don’t know me or my beliefs labeled me as a right wing conservative and seem to feel I am fair game to lambast with inappropriate and untrue generalizations.

I couldn’t let go of the Facebook incident, indulging myself in my own brand of labeling.  I took their challenge and threw back at them the kind of rhetoric we all know does nothing except build political schisms. I never actually shared any of my negative comments, but shot hundreds of verbal darts at them in my mind. After several long, hard days of tormented pondering, I did respond with a bland statement apologizing for thinking a rhetorical question warranted an honest, heartfelt response. I thought the labeling and accusations were over.

Over the last few weeks, I have seen an increase in similar conversations when reading the comments section for internet news articles. If the publication is conservative, the comments slam liberals and vice versa. It’s as if folks are finding venues to spew frustration and seeking acceptance among like minded others. Very few individuals appear to be focused on listening to ideas that are foreign to their way of thinking. It becomes a cyber shouting match with both sides claiming to be right because their brand of rhetoric is supported by others who accept their generalized thoughts and ideas as facts without realizing “the facts” aren’t always true. It’s like gossip – unless you have personally experienced something, your version of the situation may or may not represent an actual occurrence. Scripture warns us about sharing gossip – a lot! The problem is, if we didn’t directly experience something or if we don’t know all of the facts, we can cause unimaginable damage to another. We start to believe only a part of a story and share it as if it is the truth when indeed our version of the situation may not resemble anything that actually happened. It’s like we pick and choose what we tell so we can label someone or something that we don’t agree with. Some labels stick so completely they make super glue look like homemade flour and water paste.

It gets worse. I follow several blogs written by respected 21st Century theologians, some of who identify themselves as “progressive Christians.” There is an irony to many of them. I mean, they throw around the Gospel and their Christian title, but judge anyone who doesn’t think their thoughts or believe their beliefs. One recent post even gave a list of adjectives for opposing political parties that seem to identify one side as a group who should be nominated for sainthood and the other side standing with one foot – or maybe both feet – in hell. Labels. It seems to me the only thing they do is polarize through judgement. Yup…pretty sure scripture says something about judging as well…

I mean, what would have happened if Jesus judged people? Would the woman who was to be stoned for adultery have died that day? (John 8:4-10) Would Jesus have spoken with the Samaritan woman? (John 4: 7-42) What about Zacchaeus, the tax collector? (Luke 19:1-10) Would Jesus have been kind to these folks if he bought into the current politically correct labels for them? Okay, they had issues – but don’t we all? The point is, Jesus didn’t point a finger and tell them how disgusting they were because they don’t think the way he thinks. Each one of them had conversation with Jesus and it was through that conversation they found a better way. Keep in mind, the conversation happened because he approached them, he listened and he cared about what happened to them. I have to believe it was his compassion that changed them. It wasn’t an attitude of arrogance that his way was the only way. Actually, Jesus could have pulled that one off better than any of us because his way is the perfect way. We get in trouble when we try to define details about what that looks like instead of simply acting out of love.  However, if we assume others are acting out of love as well, we have opened the door to conversation, understanding and developing a plan that is better than either individual could have made if he or she remained chained to their own perspective. You see, I firmly believe most people are intrinsically good. And…I can accept that most people want what is good for others well-being. Where we differ is in how we get there. Those differences should not come wrapped with accusations, slander and hate. They should be met with conversation leading to solutions that are greater than either side could make without the other.

The thing is, this isn’t even about politics. It’s about our human tendency to label someone because they don’t agree with your group and, based on that label, having the audacity to think you know everything about them. It should be about putting personal agendas aside long enough to listen and really hear a perspective that is developed through a lifetime of experiences even if they are different than your own. And, it’s about having the courage to agree or disagree with someone in a way that allows for open communication to sort through the differences.

There is a saying in our country – United we Stand. The full statement is, “United we stand, divided we fall.” To some this is a statement of power. Maybe…but maybe there is more. Scripture speaks of the positive nature of unity. Yet scripture also speaks of our differences and how those differences feed into the completeness of creation. Surely these aren’t conflicting statements. Surely we come in varieties of colors and sizes; right brained and left brained; male and female; social conservatives and social liberals; book smart and street smart; and a plethora of additional differences so that we can learn and grow with and because of each other. Unity doesn’t mean we should all agree. It does mean that we must live together in harmony, respecting what is good and right and true in God’s creation and appreciating that the manifestation of that respect will shine in a variety of ways.

The 1960’s and 1970’s were turbulent times in the United States. The divides were deep between young and old; establishment and new age; hawks and doves; men and women… As children we practiced drills requiring us to huddle under classroom desks as if they could somehow protect us from a nuclear holocaust. Demonstrations spanned from flag burning to bra burning. “Don’t trust anyone over 30” forged a generational us-against-them mentality. In the midst of demonstrations, war, drills, and sagging breasts – okay, the bra burning was a silly way to prove a point – a song written by Dino Valenti and recorded by the Youngbloods beaconed to us to come together, right now. The lyrics reverberate the teachings of scripture:

Love is but the song we sing,
And fear’s the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Know the dove is on the wing
And you need not know why
C’mon people now,
Smile on your brother
Ev’rybody get together
Try and love one another right now
Some will come and some will go
We shall surely pass
When the one that left us here
Returns for us at last
We are but a moments sunlight
Fading in the grass
C’mon people now,
Smile on your brother
Ev’rybody get together
Try and love one another right now
If you hear the song I sing,
You must understand
You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It’s there at your command
C’mon people now,
Smile on your brother
Ev’rybody get together
Try and love one another right now
Right now
Right now!

The key, as Christ tried to teach us and the Apostle Paul reminded us, is love. So – how do we find love in an increasingly polarized society? We go boldly, knowing that it is the only option we have. We learn from the true Christians who brought coffee, sandwiches and cool water to hate-mongering demonstrators. We reach across political aisles with a handshake and understanding. We smile on our brothers (and sisters) and try and love one another right now. Right now!

Changing seasons, JFK, puppies and hope…

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

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UnknownIt’s been almost 50 years since that day. Teachers were crying, which was confusing for those of us in elementary school. Speculation was that the principal yelled at them. It was the worst thing we could think of that could make a teacher cry. Mr. Norman was huge – bigger than most fathers – and fierce. Word had it that a summons to his office was worse than horrible. That knowledge alone kept most of us within the limits of acceptable behavior. Then, the xylophone notes came over the PA system. He spoke. We knew it was him – he was the only adult male in the building other than the janitor. The janitor never made announcements. He sounded sad and, well…scared. Something was very wrong.

As children, we didn’t know what to expect. I guess the adults around us didn’t either. Churches had services that night. They were impromptu events on a cold, dark Friday night that spoke of sorrow, fear and hope. School was called off on Monday so we could mourn the death of our president with the nation. We curled up on our parents’ bed to watch the funeral. The flag covered casket slowly meandered through Washington on a horse drawn wagon. There was no rider, simply boots placed backwards in the stirrups, the symbol of a fallen leader looking back at his troops for the last time.

The country was in shock.

The Bishop who presided over the service that day read a passage said to be John F. Kennedy’s favorite from Ecclesiastes 3. Pete Seeger put the scripture to music, using the King James translation and a few added words for emphasis. Most of us can recite the verses from listening to hit recordings by The Limeliters, Judy Collins and, most famously, the Byrds. To everything turn, turn, turn; there is a season turn, turn, turn…and a time for every purpose under heaven…A time to be born, a time to die…a time to sow, a time to reap…a time to weep, a time to laugh…a time for war, a time for peace, I swear it’s not too late…

The leaves have been brilliant this fall. It’s as if they are changing in slow motion with each day becoming more spectacular than the day before. It would be easy to wish they could stay this way forever, yet we know that they won’t. They can’t. This is a season and it will change. A strong wind will come, colder weather will set in and soon autumn will give way to winter. And, in like fashion, we know that winter is embedded with the hope and anticipation of spring. Seasons…

We often hear about the human lifespan in terms of the seasons. Birth and childhood resemble spring; youth and young adulthood are summer; autumn is middle age; and winter is the winding down as we approach death. That scenario makes me like winter even less than I already do!

The thing is, the seasons can also teach us about life events, just like the rhythmic extremes in Ecclesiastes 3. This is a scripture of hope. When life seems to be cold, dark and just plain miserable we are assured that the new life of spring is coming. There is a season turn, turn, turn…

Our culture seems to tell us that everything is going to be wonderful if we simply purchase the right toothpaste, car, deodorant, laundry soap or beer. Isn’t advertising wonderful! If only it was that simple. Some religions have similar formulas using their brand of faith as the key to living life without stress, negative change or ‘winter’ moments.

But, it doesn’t work that way. Even when we are in the good times, we know there will be a change we never expected no matter how much we try to insulate ourselves from the parts of life that are nothing less than awful. Yet even in the midst of the muck, there can be glimmers of hope. There is a season turn, turn, turn…

We went for a walk last night. I hesitated when we saw a man and woman slowing down ahead of us. They were scruffy and carrying backpacks. He had a long, unkempt beard. Their clothes were dirty. They turned toward us and I inappropriately expected them to ask for any amount of money we were willing to share. They didn’t. Instead, they asked if they could pet our 5-month old puppy. Lucy is cute, but has no manners. She will jump on anyone and thinks a moving arm is the best chew-toy in the world. Amazingly, she sat calmly as the woman stroked her head and ears, as if she knew something we couldn’t comprehend. When the woman hugged her, her coat opened enough to show how frail her body was. Yet, her face beamed with joy as she petted Lucy and received puppy-kisses. As we walked away we heard her tell her partner, “I feel better now.” Who were they? What was their story? There is a season turn, turn, turn…

This isn’t to say that God has somehow caused or predestined life’s events. It just happens – the good, the bad and the stuff we would rather not talk about to anyone except our psychologist because she has a professional obligation to keep our deepest, darkest secrets private. Some things happen because of our own choices, good and bad, while others are the result of the choices outside of our control that seem to bubble up out of nowhere. The Ecclesiastes poem simply gives us a perspective on the rhythm of life. It isn’t perfect and it isn’t going to be. But, the next season is coming and with it there will be a new set of joys and challenges. Some seasons will be big, like the death of a president, and some seasons start out in despair but will become studded with twinkles of hope and joy, like puppy-kisses.

It’s important to understand that God is in the middle of everything beaconing us to trust that we are loved more than we can possibly imagine and whatever our pain looks like, it too shall pass – even if said passage seems to resemble the progression of an extraordinarily large kidney stone. The nation wept that day. But, the sun still rose, babies were born and leaves drifted from trees. Lucy still grabs my arm with her puppy mouth. But, for that moment in time, she seemed to know she was the hope necessary to help a homeless woman feel better. God is in the midst of all that is good, bad and just plain crappy and unfailingly reaches out to let us know there is no place in all of creation that we can’t be found. No, not to find, judge and punish us – but to surround us with hope and love so we can go on, ready to encounter the next season.

 

Turn, turn, turn (lyrics)

Words-adapted from The Bible, book of Ecclesiastes; Music-Pete Seeger

To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late

Surgery, stress and Sabbath rest…

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

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I had surgery several years. It wasn’t a REALLY big deal, but big enough to land me 6-weeks of rest and relaxation. It was an amazing time! I was able to read books, nap, watch old movies, enjoy visits from friends – some of whom even brought lunch to my home! I lost the internal pressure that typically nagged me to clean house or do laundry. I couldn’t drive, so the errands were no longer my responsibility. The grass still grew and I didn’t care. Leaves fell…nope, not my problem. I chatted on the phone, got dressed at noon, perused stacks of magazines and finished knitting a sweater. It was wonderful! So much so, I cried when the doctor let me know I was no longer on any restrictions. There are days that I long for the calm I felt during my recovery.

I worry a lot. Of course, I think it is justifiable. Who doesn’t worry about health, finances, politics, family, things that need doing, things that didn’t get done, holidays, week days, work days, and ultimately everything that is happening, could happen or should happen? A friend suggested that I not worry about things twice – like, worry about them after they happen, which eliminates a fair portion of the could-happen issues. Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy. Worriers will agree that it’s not a voluntary response. Like breathing, it’s part of our physical being.

The problem is, the worrier’s obsession with “what if…what if…what if…” becomes the mantra of stress, the #1 health problem in America today. Isn’t it interesting that a country with the wealth, support and resources available to us in the United States is plagued with illnesses linked to stress? The average American doesn’t need to worry about food or shelter like millions of the poor who live in third world countries. We aren’t war torn like much of the Middle East. We enjoy freedoms that are unheard of in many countries. Yet, we are killing ourselves through worry and stress and we don’t know how to stop it.

The writer of Matthew gives us Christ’s words of hope and encouragement for our worry. You can find them at the end of this essay. I intentionally chose The Message translation as it speaks to our national obsession. Notice particularly what is said in verses 30-33, “…What I am trying to do here is get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving…”

I remember when my children were little. Christmas was a difficult time. Between commercials on television and the talk amongst friends, they developed an idea of what Santa Claus should bring them. You know, what they were entitled to simply because that’s what the media and their friends indicated they should have. When you think you deserve the biggest, best-est, most awesome toy that money can buy and receive something less than that expectation…well, it can make for a pretty disappointing Christmas morning. Our challenge as parents was to help them realize that a gift given with love has ultimately more value than anything money can buy. It is also our challenge as God’s children to realize that the gifts God gives to us are uniquely given to us out of God’s love for us. It’s not like the mother (me!) who counts dollar amount and numbers of packages to make sure everything is fair. It’s about recognizing that God is there, walking with us, caring for us and giving us His amazing love in ways that we must slow down long enough to see.

And, that brings me to the Sabbath. Growing up, I got the idea that Sunday was a ‘day of rest’. Cool! Stores and gas stations were closed. Church was mandatory, as was roast beef or chicken for dinner. It was the one day of the week that we knew we would eat in the dining room and perfect manners were expected. We could play with our friends after dinner, but even our play was to be more subdued. I set up my dolls in little rows and began to preach to them, but was told it wasn’t appropriate to play church. The day was filled with reverence and the realization that no matter what, I would never get it right. I couldn’t wait for Monday!

The thing about the Sabbath is that God knows what we need. God wildly created amazing things for 6 periods of time. (Okay – scripture says, “days”…) Then, even God took time off to breathe, to enjoy and to rest. God also took time after every major creation event to sit back, nod, and recognize it all was good. (Genesis 1:1-31; Genesis 2:1-4) Let’s say it again – God took time off. No, not to leave creation to it’s own devices, but to look at it, to breathe, and to be pleased with it.

You see, the Sabbath is not supposed to be a burden. It is supposed to be a time when we take time off from our daily work and/or routines. It’s a time for renewal, for rest, for relationships and to be pleased with – to be grateful for – all the places we see God’s love and care in our lives. It shouldn’t take a major surgery and doctor’s orders for us to find that place of relaxation nor does it need to be on a given day of the week. However, we do need to stop periodically, to let the stress of the world cease for some time and to become mindful of God’s presence. We need to let go of our worries and remember that God is working in and through and around all that is. It’s not about God giving us all the things we feel entitled to. It’s recognizing that whatever our circumstances are, God is there.

When I truly embrace those thoughts, I realize that I long for Sabbath rest so much that I can’t relegate it to only one day of the week. It’s more of a ‘take as needed’ prescription that, at my healthiest, I choose to take frequently.

Matthew 6: 25-34 (The Message)

25-26 “If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.

27-29 “Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

30-33 “If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

34 “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

Success, yokes and stress…

24 Thursday Oct 2013

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“Success means we go to sleep at night knowing that our talents and abilties were used in a way that served others.”

Marianne Williamson

Success is an interesting thing. It might be a particular rung on the corporate ladder, completion of a major athletic even, or gaining admission to a prestigious organization. Some might find success in the accomplishments of their children or reaching that next milestone-wedding anniversary. For others it might be moving into their dream home, driving the ‘it’ car, or sporting the latest and greatest clothing label. Do you find your place on this list? Is your success measured by any of these markers? Or, do you see it another way? How we define stress says a lot about what we value. 

We live in a culture that is deeply affected by the desire for success. Stress and anxiety are so prevalent that we have entire industries based on helping people find the calm through herbs, pharmaceuticals, physical activity, diets and a myriad of other remedies. Companies that specialize in clothing, furniture, books, and DVD’s have branched out from those industries hoping to build revenue when we realize their product is available to augment whatever it is that is supposed to bring serenity to our lives. In spite of all that is available to us to bring us peace, we see that health in America is increasingly affected by the human physiological response to unresolved stress and anxiety. On the individual level this can be seen in the national obesity level, heart disease, cancers, strokes and a litany of chronic illnesses. As a community we see uncontrolled anger, frustration and hopelessness that presents itself in a variety of crimes ranging from a neighborhood spat to road rage to hostile shootings.

The problem is, with all of the resources available to us today, we don’t seem to be able to find peace. In actuality, our national obsession with stress and its ugly outcomes seems to be getting worse. Most of us long for that elusive feeling of peace, yet we just can’t seem to find it in the midst of our goal-oriented culture.

Years ago I heard a national talk show hostess encourage an overweight, lonely and depressed woman to find a place to volunteer 3-4 times a week. There was one important caveat to her advice – the place had to be more than a mile from her home. She was to walk there, share herself in service to others and walk home at the end of her scheduled shift. After she had done this for a month, she was to call into the show again to let the hostess know what transpired. She speculated that the woman would loose some of her excess weight from regular exercise and, more importantly, she would recognize she had something to offer to others, which would ease her feelings of loneliness and despair. I didn’t hear the second call. My guess is the talk show hostess was right.

In her quote, Marianne Williamson equates success with the use of our talents and abilities. How many times have we heard that we will be successful in life if we find our passion and make it our work? The problem is, success measured in those terms tends to be about financial achievement. Williamson gives us another measure – peace, the kind that feeds into sound and restorative sleep, as a result of success. That peace comes from serving others.

In Matthew 11 Jesus tells us something about who we are in God’s world. It ends with an invitation to “come to me” and it speaks to “all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens.” Even though the burdens we carry in our current era are very different from the ancient people, there are still big, ugly things that cause us to live in constant stress. Jesus paints a different picture of what life could and should look like. There’s just this one little thing we need to do and it involves a yoke.

The ancients would have understood the function of a yoke. It is a large, wooden crosspiece that harnesses two animals together so they can pull a cart. The yoke binds them so they share the load and complete the work. In our industrialized world, we have little need for yokes and oxen, so it is hard to picture what this analogy looks like. The point is, Jesus calls to us in our stressed and crazy lives. He offers us rest. Then, he instructs us to take his yoke. No, not to carry it alone. The nature of a yoke is that it is shared. Jesus is going to walk with us and guide us in his ways. There will be times when we try to veer left when he is moving right, or vice versa, and the yoke will keep us moving along together.

This brings up another point to ponder, namely Jesus’ ways. I never really thought about Jesus’ ways as being based on his talents and abilities. I mean, he’s Jesus, for crying out loud! Wouldn’t a list of things that weren’t his talents and abilities be shorter, if anything at all? But, what if we tried to make a list of the good things…acceptance, nurture, serving others…

Jesus’ way was and is to serve others. In our humanity we have limitations. Some of us are good at some things while others excel at others. We read in Romans and 1 Corinthians that we are given different gifts and talents, yet all of them are to be used in service to God. What does that look like? If we follow the example that Jesus modeled for us through his life, service to God is service to those around us.

Which brings us back to Ms Williamson’s quote. When we recognize who we are and whose we are, we will use our talents and abilities in a way that serves others. Maybe then we can let go of societies measures of success and find rest in living as God created us to live.

 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11: 28-30

Ponderings on forgiveness…

16 Wednesday Oct 2013

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I knew a woman whose daughter was murdered. The courts called it a “crime of passion” – an act of domestic violence. It seems her estranged husband visited her, lost his mind momentarily, began choking her and didn’t come to his senses for the 4-6 minutes it took to squeeze her life out of her body. A story like that will certainly grab the attention and outrage of most readers. If that isn’t enough, it happened in front of the couple’s daughters who were just 2 and 4 at the time. He was sentenced to 18-months in prison and given full custody of the girls upon his release. Really!!!??? The scenario gets even more bizarre – the woman I knew forgave him.

I doubt there is anyone who hasn’t attempted to figure out what forgiveness is all about. It doesn’t take long to forget the guy who cut me off in traffic. I have been known to blast my horn and offer a hand gesture or a few expletives before letting it go, but ultimately, I go about my business without giving it another thought.  How about the neighbor who calls the police every time the cat finds their garden mulch to be an attractive litter box? It’s getting a bit harder now. Then there are the families like my former acquaintance. We all have that point where we find it easier to hate than forgive, and we all hope we never have to come face to face with that spot. She did in an unimaginable way and chose forgiveness. How does that happen?

I guess we have to ponder the question, “What is forgiveness?” Is it something we have to do because of Christian ethics? Like, does it give us points on the Divine tally card? Yet, if faith is all we need, than what happens to our perceived brownie points? Are they real or something we think we need so we can feel better about our actions when we compared our lives to someone else’s? It feeds into a questionable theology that there is a maximum number of people God can love so we are chosen by some nebulous valuation. Some theologians hypothesize that our actions are not as important as our motivation behind the actions. They call it, “the intention of the heart”. If it’s true that what we do is not as important as why we do it, then what happens if I have become bitter and broken because of how I have experienced the damaging actions of someone else? Certainly I have become who I am based on how I perceive the situation and it affects what I do. But, is it who I am as I was created or who I have become because of life’s roller coaster events? Maybe, just maybe, therein is where we find the key.

If who we are is the result of our deepening faith in God, then what we do is also a direct result of that relationship. In accepting God, we begin to realize how broken we are. Isn’t it awesome to refer to it as ‘broken’ – not damaged beyond repair or, worst yet, made wrong in the first place! It means we can look at our foibles as the result of things that have happened to and around us, often because of events that we may or may not have had the ability to control. Our poor choices, the choices of others, how we see the world and how we perceive the world to see us all lead to the damage imposed on who we were created to be. When we understand that everyone is broken, just as we are, we can develop an empathy or understanding for the assaults imposed on the lives of others. This can move us to compassion for their situation and help us to realize that their “crime” against is a result of their brokenness, our brokenness or simply differences in how we see our place in the world around us. If we learn anything from the example Christ gave to us through his life, death and resurrection, it means that we are encouraged to extend grace to those who offend us. Who are they? What events have shaped and formed their lives? How does that affect their response to the people around them? Grace might even soften us enough to recognize what part, if any, we may have played in the situation, helping us to bridge the impasse between us and the other(s) so that conversation can begin.

One must also remember that forgiveness is never one sided. What happens when the other person feels as deeply hurt or as righteously right as I feel? What if they aren’t willing to meet me half way…or 25% of the way…or even budge a smidgen off of their position? Then what?

As we live a life consistent with the lessons Christ modeled for us, we find our ability to love others deepens. We realize we are all equal in God’s eyes (Galatians 3:28) and we all have sinned and fallen short of God’s intentions for us (Romans 3:28). We might even realize we are in all this together. And, when we truly believe that, we might come to that place where we place less emphasis on our own comfort and how it has been interrupted by another. In doing so, we become compassionate regarding another’s trials and tribulations. That compassion allows us to forgive. Again, it is all about love, a love that flows from us in all directions as we live as God intended for us to live. Forgiveness might be regaining a full and meaningful relationship with the person. It might also be simply letting go of anger and frustration long enough to allow the other person to walk away without my need to scream everything I want them to know about how awful they are at their back.

I still don’t understand how a mother can forgive her daughter’s killer. Although, as I continue to ponder the mystery of forgiveness, I am humbled with the reality of God’s freely given grace. That humility kicks my righteous pedestal squarely  out from under me, forcing me to be open to people and actions I just don’t understand. Then, little by little I find myself forgiving…

Now what…

08 Tuesday Oct 2013

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Some days are confusing. The conundrum seems to come when expectations and reality fail to match up or when a perception of the way things should be moves from actuality to a distant or fading dream. Maybe it comes in the form of a difficult conversation with a friend, an unexpected diagnosis, a natural disaster, or a litany of other issues that leaves one in a place that was never expected without the skills or tools to deal with the problem. We’ve all been there, deep in the black hole of, “Now what?”

I remember the first time I traveled alone. It was a 4,000-mile trip with a layover in an unfamiliar city at an equally unfamiliar airport. I like to have a general familiarity with where I am going, which took this experience completely out of my comfort zone. I find it daunting to navigate through an unknown place, even though it’s to get to a desired destination. I prepared as well as I could, but I was intimidated knowing there would be glitches that could thwart my plans.

Airports are loaded with signs. It’s like every piece of information necessary to get from point A to point B is there. A person just needs to look for information that is relevant to their search. Food court? Restroom? Gate information? Baggage claim? Ground transportation? Just look at the signs and they will guide you. And, if that isn’t enough, there are plenty of people along the way who are willing to hear a question and point in the right direction. Some might even walk with you, turning that “now what” moment into an unexpected pleasure as you chat about life, airports, and silly worries.

The airport example is an overly simplified analogy of difficult life situations, but the point couldn’t be more relevant. We all have experienced that dreaded place where life takes a turn and we are clueless about handling it. Sometimes all we can do is step out, look for signs, ask for help and keep on moving along the path toward that nebulous place we long to be.

I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said, “God listens.” Awesome! I love the idea that God hears my angsts, pleas, ideas, plans and requests for help. But, if I really think about it, the underlying message is that I need to let God know what’s going on down here on Earth so God can take care of things the way I think or hope they should be taken care of. I guess that also means I need to try to be unbiased, but that’s hard. Individual perspective is full of specific experiences, hopes and dreams making it a myopic view of life and how it can continue to exist without risking the result of walking into “now what”. It then seems that if I need to inform God, God also needs to hear from everyone to get a full picture of what’s happening in creation. So, whom does God really listen to? Me? Someone with greater needs than mine? Someone who is more religious than me? Someone who is more articulate or more giving or more loving? If that’s the case, what happens to my hopes, plans and dreams or my pleas for help if they are different from some else’s, particularly if that someone else is better at attracting God’s attention? Additionally, if God is listening, where is God listening from? Somewhere out there? And why is God listening?

As a child I was often told that even if I thought I got away with something horrible, God would know about it because God is everywhere and sees everything. It was a parenting technique used to keep a child from getting into trouble when adults weren’t present. It also led to the belief that God is everywhere simply to catch us being naughty or nice and keeps score on a divine tally sheet, making God rather like Santa Claus. I spent years fearing that God’s witness of my transgression would affect God’s love for me. I knew God was there and I thought I knew why. Fortunately, I was wrong. God’s presence isn’t to watch, judge and punish. It’s to whisper and guide us toward living as God created us to live – in community with others, looking for the signs that guide us as we walk together chatting about life, airports, and silly worries.

God’s presence in all things means God already knows all that we want or need to say to God, including our need to say it. That’s part one of the conversation. Part two is to listen for the gentle whisper of God within, around and through us. (Kings 19: 11-13) Maybe we need to slow down, silence our pleas, or simply letting go of our plans long enough to know that a loving God is present always and everywhere and through that love, God will help us navigate those places that make us cry out, “Now what?” And, maybe…just maybe…if we are open to listening for the gentle whisper, we will find comfort and hope as God gently guides us. God listens? Of course! Now, let us also listen to God.