praying

i’m praying today…

… for friends (and strangers) in the anxious early days of pregnancy (especially when those pregnancies are secrets)

… for friends (and strangers) in the anxious late days of pregnancy  (especially when those friends have welcomed babies too soon before…)

… for friends (and strangers) whose marriages are falling apart, or are severely strained, or are ending

Lord, hear my prayer.

answered prayers

I opened up with a colleague with whom I’ve never really connected before.  And found a sister.  And we prayed together.  And she prayed for peace to come over both of us.  And it did. 

And I know you all were praying too.  

And it helped. 

I am in much better space as this day ends.  

Thanks be to God.  

And thank you.

A dip

So, I just got done telling you all that I am in better space.  

Well, yesterday I re-entered not so great space- dip in confidence, lift in anxiety.  

I request your prayers.  Thanks.

A Sabbath Reflection on the Break Now Ending

So we’ve just had an itty-bitty fall break.  No classes Thursday or Friday.  Considering that Thursday is my big class day and Friday is the day I get to facilitate a colloquy group for the class I’m t.a.ing… this is a break.  And given that this break was coming, I was able to stay home on Tuesday as well and part of what I did on Tuesday was to look ahead to all the work that remains this semester and start thinking about how it might get accomplished.  I realized a few things that it would be helpful to get done over the break.

I babbled on about these things I’d like to get done- mostly household things, some school things, some church things- to Kev as we drove to campus on Wednesday.  I didn’t mention as I babbled how tired I was (that’s a given) and that I was also hoping to sleep in (as much as is possible with a baby, who still isn’t a great sleeper) every day of the break.  Though I didn’t mention that desire for more sleep, we fell into a rhythm not unlike C’s early days.  She has been consistently waking up ready to go at about 6 a.m. each day.  As I’ve been awake on and off with her all night, I’m happy to let Kev take her out of the room for awhile in which I try to get another hour plus of sleep, in whatever position I desire, without a need to present my breast every so often.  Eventually Kev brings C back to me for some more milk while he showers and then we have enjoyed a later breakfast together.  Yesterday C settled in for a good long nap after this renewed nursing and we had breakfast just the two of us. 

On Thursday morning I grabbed an old envelope and made a list of my hopes for the break and asked Kev if there was anything he wanted to add.  I was feeling like I wouldn’t remember everything and lists always make me feel better.  This is what was/is on the list (with commentary:

• Sermon Revisions- Gulp.  I’ve agreed to preach at Living Church on November 8th.  I’ve been terrified at this possibility for the year plus we’ve been worshipping with them.  But an old sermon with the possibility for becoming a new and fitting sermon came to me the morning after I asked the pastor for 48 hours to pray on the invitation.  And I had to say yes.  But, realistically, normal weeks in this semester, especially given that I need to get to work on final papers, don’t allow for sermon tweaking.  So… needed to get done this break.
• Finish Reading for Monday’s Class- Wanted to get this done on Wednesday.  Didn’t.  It was at the top of the list.  The prof knows the author and while he relieved us of our required on-line post about the book he urged us to e-mail him questions that he could pass on to her.  So writing up an e-mail was a task attached to this that didn’t make the list.
• Read “Being As Communion”-  This is the last book for my Monday class, which we’re supposed to be reading while we write big papers, etc.  I thought if I could get this done now… ah… the relief later.  Plus, I suspect the approach of the author of this book might help me think about my approach to my final paper.  Um… this is a nearly 300 page book.  But I had three days, right?
• Review the Research Already Completed for my Augustine Final Paper and Make a Continuing Research Plan- Because I planned for my research in this class to build on the work I did in my guided reading, I have a head start.  But it has been MONTHS since I’ve thought about it directly.  Need to get my head in the game.  This prof doesn’t care when I give him the paper.  I’d like to get it done by the end of Thanksgiving to be able to focus on my other papers in early December.  But must. get. moving.
• Dig Up Garden- Remember that beautiful and productive garden I bragged about so regularly when I was celebrating things I love (how do such good practices fall away so easily?!)?  Well, we’ve totally neglected it since the semester began, or maybe since even a bit before then.  And it became a fenced in jungle.  Tall grasses bending over and dying… weeds entangling with tomato plants, dead corn stalks bending over… a mess.  Before we get a freeze… we needed to do something about it. 
• Dig up Tree Growing Up Under and Through the Deck- I swear Kev said this would be no problem to get rid of.  And I’ve been waiting for him to get rid of it as it has gotten bigger and bigger and pushed up through a crack in the deck.  Again, needed attention before it became seriously destructive.  
• Harvest Pears- There is a great big pear tree in our back yard.  Someone stole all our pears last year (no joke!), but this year they survived.  And we’ve harvested a few here and there to supplement lunches or whatever, and we’ve encouraged friends to come pick.  But we wanted to try doing something with the pears.  And the break seemed the perfect time.
• Make Pear Stuff- See above.
• Get Box of Clothes Integrated into C’s Room- My mom sent along a box of hand-me-downs a month or so ago.  We went through it then and most of the clothes were a bit big yet, so it’s just been sitting in her nursery waiting for attention.  Well, mom said on Wednesday that she had just sent another box.  This one needed to get worked in… and soon.
• Get Elements for a Halloween Costume for Caroline- We want to make her a monkey costume.  A friend gave us an idea how to do so simply.  We just needed to find a brown sweat suit, some felt, and figure out how to make a tail.  
• Make Costume- See above.
• Catch Up on “Mad Men”- Two weeks behind.
• Catch Up on “Ugly Betty”- Missed the first week and wanted to be able to watch the second week when it came on Friday night. 
• Clean House- Think I should have been more concrete with this one.
• Plan Meals for the Next Two Weeks- Something I did faithfully for months- and haven’t done since the semester started.  Kev has taken it over, which makes sense, but I wanted to help out this week.
• Grocery Shop
• Buy Clock- We haven’t had a digital clock in our bedroom for some time.  We had one in our room when traveling last weekend and I realized it was a helpful gauge of how much I was or was not sleeping with C’s various wake ups.  I’m too tired usually to find and check the cell phone or iPod, but a quick glance at bright red numbers is easy.
• Take a Family Walk- This was Kev’s addition to the list.  A good one.  

So, perhaps some of you saw the status update on Facebook which read “is wondering if that long list of things she wanted to get done over fall break might be a little over ambitious.  she is TIRED.”  I received several comments indicating that probably indeed it was and urging me to rest (perhaps from some of you… though I wouldn’t put money on the fact that many people read here anymore considering how rarely I post) or pace myself.  

So, on this day of rest on which I would only dare do a few things on the list where do I stand?

Well… let me go back and cross off the things I did.  To be fair, Kev did most of the pear stuff (I just peeled and chopped a few pears).  And we worked together on the meal planning and shopping.  And the garden could still use more attention.  AND each and every one of the things I didn’t cross off, well… I did SOMETHING on each of them.  I did revise the sermon.  It is currently five single spaced pages long which is a whole two pages longer than my standard sermon, and one page longer than the longest sermon I have ever preached.  But considering this church is used to 40-50 minute sermons maybe this is a good thing?  I don’t know.  It will need more attention, but I have a draft.  And I started that book for my Monday class, but who was I kidding?  I’m glad I started it (just barely started it, but it is a start).  And the research plan, well… I created a document with all the research I’ve done so far and realized it was more than I remembered.  And that’s as far as I got.  The garden is actually a good metaphor for the list.  I did SOMETHING, but not everything.  I also had every intention of getting the tree out from under the deck, but found it easier to rip down the vines that had grown up and could not figure out how to get rid of the tree- it is a pricker tree and its roots are way under the deck, accessible only be crawling under or ripping off some lattice work.  I decided it was beyond me and let it go.  But told Kev we have to do something about it SOON.  And we tracked down some costume elements, but that proved more challenging than expected.  Mamie is sending some our way and gave me a clever idea for the tail just yesterday.  So that is in process.  And the house got some attention.  Really, should have been more concrete.  

And today we will take a family walk.  

I’m pleased that all my restful goals got accomplished on this break.  And think some progress on the rest is better than none.  And boy is my body sore after the two hours of garden work yesterday.  I clearly got SOMETHING accomplished.  

Several of you have been asking how I am or how we (as in Kev and I) are over on the baby blog.  We’re all right.  School continues to kick my butt- so. much. work.  And this is leaving Kev with the lion’s share of everything at home.  As of this week he has joined the drumming ministry at Living Church which means he’ll get out one night a week and for a few hours on Saturdays (though he’ll likely take C with him on Saturdays).  This is good.  He has his name in for another church music job.  Waiting for word.  There’s certainly enough for him to do around home and as C has had longer and longer periods of independent play he has gotten back to composing and playing and this has been good for his soul.  So far so good on finances… some anxiety about what lies ahead, but we’re fine so far.  Thanks be to God.  And I’ve been navigating some real ups and downs in terms of my own self-confidence and clarity about why I am here and whether I belong here.  But I seem to be in an o.k. space with that right now.  I had a heart to heart with a professor who reminded me that the last ten months haven’t been easy, and not just because I gave birth, but for lots of reasons and that I should give myself some grace.  He assured me that I do belong here and can do this, but also confirmed I haven’t necessarily been working up to my potential of late– and that that was understandable. 

And coming out of that conversation I’ve been thinking about what I have accomplished in a challenging 10 months- taught myself German and passed an exam, taken up preaching again, achieved a weight loss goal, and have daily cared for the gift for which I have prayed for years.  (And lots of other things too… much like my fall break list… many things in process.)  So, I’ve not been operating at 100% academically, but I’ve been operating.  And that’s a good thing.  So, really, at the moment, we’re in a good place.  Thank you so much for asking.  (And reading if you made it this far.)

Crazy Car

The final moment we needed to ensure that we would ALWAYS bring the camera from now on…

We parked behind a car this morning that had two stickers on its back windshield and a frame around its license plate.

The top sticker was one of those “COEXIST” stickers with all the religious symobols worked into the word.

The bottom sticker (just below this one) was a American flag in a circle with the words “protected by Smith and Wesson” 

And the license plate frame said “World’s Best Mom”.

Whoa.

I really invited HER to church…

I was disappointed to see the Rapid Transit bus for my route pulling away as I made my way to the second level of the downtown bus terminal, but got over this disappointment quickly as I realized that taking the slower bus would give me all the more time to read Moltmann’s “Jesus Christ for Today’s World”, which I needed to read before facilitating a discussion the next morning.  When I got on the bus with my ridiculously large backpack, my bulky pump in its stylish black carrying case, my purse, my book and noted that it was already a very full bus, my disappointment surfaced again.  There were a few empty seats towards the back so I started to head there.  I had noted an empty seat right at the front, but it was next to a woman who had a very large plastic box at her feet and I thought adding my bulk would just be too. much.  

I didn’t even get past this woman before she called out to me.  I discovered pretty quickly that this woman with long, graying hair was a bit of a firecracker- spunky!  

“You can sit right here, honey, unless I look that scary!”  

“Oh no, ma’am, you don’t look scary.  It is just that you have a lot of stuff and I have a lot of stuff and I didn’t want to crowd you.”

 A gentle man sitting near her, with whom she had apparently been speaking, said “It’s alright, ma’am, we all have a lot of stuff.” He nodded in the direction of a very large army duffel propped on the shelf offered for such things.  

I thanked them and took my seat.  And went to open Moltmann to dig in when the woman said “Ooh!  I just LOVE Jesus!”  And then I closed the book.  I knew that I would not be reading. 

At first we talked about our respective stuff.  I learned that her big black box was a crate for hauling groceries.  She had taken the bus across town to shop at T.J.’s  and wondered if I knew about that store.  Indeed I do.  And then she asked me who wrote my book, and said she’d have to get that because she loves Jesus so much.  She asked me if I was a divinity student.  ”No, actually, I’m getting a Ph.D. in Theology.  I’m already a pastor.”  

“Oh really?” She said with some excitement, “What church?”

“PC(USA).” I replied. I don’t know how I knew she was asking for my denomination nor how I knew she would know the acronym, but that’s what I said, and she was and she did. 

She groaned.  ”My daddy was a Presbyterian pastor, but I’ll tell you, so many of those churches in the PC(USA) are apostate it is not even funny. Why I was a part of one in Satan Monica… APOSTATE!”  (And no, that is not a typo, she did say Satan Monica.) And thus the conversation began.  I replied with, “I’m sorry you feel that way.  What makes you say that your church in Santa Monica was apostate?  That’s a very serious charge.  On what do you base it?”  

“I could go on and on…” she said.  And she did.  It sounds like there was some dysfunction (perhaps some serious dysfunction), but then she also feels very differently than I do about the appropriate posture of the church towards (she whispers) homosexuals (her word).  And some of those church leaders think Hindus are going to heaven and they don’t even believe in Jesus. Etc. Etc. Etc. (Um, yeah, we are on very different pages.)

After awhile I asked her if she has a church home in Nashville.  I wondered what non-apostate church she had found here.  It took her awhile to answer me.  First I heard about the problems she has with PC(USA) churches in this city (she’s only been back for awhile, she’s been rescued out of L.A., she told me several times, here to care for her mother…) but did I know that one of the downtown churches was having TAZE (rhymes with haze) services and that’s just UNCHRISTIAN!  While previously I diplomatically let things she said slide or said “Well, ma’am, you and I have very different understandings, but I am sorry for the pain you are carrying from your previous church experience.” I didn’t feel like initiating certain discussions with her.  But with the charge that Taize is unChristian- I bit.  

“Ma’am, that’s just blatantly untrue.  Taizé…”  

“It’s Taze,” she interrupted.  

“No, actually it’s Taizé and it is highly Christian.  Taize worship services involve the singing of simple chants which are almost entirely scriptural.  For example…”  And then I sang her “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”  

“Well, that’s just lovely,” she admitted.

“Yes,” I said, “And that’s what Taize worship is, sung prayer, sung scripture, in many languages, and what is unChristian about that?”  

“Well, someone told me it was pagan like.  You’re teaching me something.  I have something to learn.  But is it ecumenical?”  

“Yes,” I started to reply, “All the music comes from an ecum…”

And then she was off again talking about the evils of ecumenism.  And I bit again…

“Ma’am, what is evil about Christian churches working for unity with one another?  Did Jesus not pray that his followers might be one as he and the Father are one?” (quoting the scripture, speaking the language of my conversation partner…)

“Well, yes.”

“Well, then what could possibly be evil about churches trying to restore unity and heal divisions?”

“Well, the Evangelicals say it’s evil, compromise they say, one world religion, Hindus going to heaven…”

“Ma’am, ecumenism is about Christian churches seeking greater unity.  Interfaith discussions are a separate matter.”

“I’ve been doing lots of reading and it all says ecumenism is bad, bad, bad…” 

“Well, I think your sources are distorted and you need some new sources.” 

Then we returned to the state of PC(USA) churches in this city.  ”They’re all dying,” she said, “Every one of them.  The Spirit isn’t in them.”

“I worship at a PC(USA) church that is very much alive.” (Oh my goodness… I didn’t just say that, did I?  Have I been in the south too long?)

“Where?” She said.  

We were then less than a mile from the church and would soon be passing it.  She was shocked that it was so close to where she is living.  ”Can I get there by bus?” she asked.  I assured her that indeed she could, and pointed out the church as we drove by.  I explained that it is almost entirely an African-American church, more Pentecostal, free-flowing in worship style, but that it is PC(USA) and very alive.  She got tremendously excited.  And asked me to write down information about the name of the church, the time of services, etc.  

“Oh my goodness,” I thought to myself, “Would I want this person to show up at a church I were serving as pastor?  What have I done?”  

She declared that God had sent me to her, because she really hadn’t found a church yet.  And then she started sharing very personally about childhood wounds and healing she is seeking with her parents (one now deceased, one under her care).  We moved from vitriol and accusations, to confession and wounds… She was in tears.

And before I got off the bus we knew each other’s names.  And I promised to pray for the healing she was seeking.  

This church is changing me friends… I’m not sure that conversation would have gone the same way a year ago.

She wasn’t in church today to see us come forward at an altar call.  It was pre-meditated, so that felt strange to me.  But Kev is now officially a member of Living Church (that’s what I just decided its blog name will be).  

And maybe the woman on the bus will find her way there as well.  I trust that if she does, God will be working to cultivate true love in me.  That’s what the church is really for, as I’m learning from Augustine.  

Even if she doesn’t come, I know that Living Church is working on me in that way.  The sharing at Sunday School this morning… Oh my goodness.  The pain.  The REAL struggles.  I’ve much growing to do.

Sabbath Musings- Thinking More About Race

Kev is sleeping soundly beside me.  Caroline is sleeping in her nursery.  Though she may be close to waking… Today was day one of only worshipping with congregation number 2… we thought we would go to Sunday School before the service.  We haven’t been able to do that before as Sunday School meets at the same time as the worship service for congregation number 1.  But we had a slow, lazy start to the day and Caroline was in need of a nap so we decided to drive around a bit before heading to church in the hopes she’d fall asleep.  She did.  So we showed up for Sunday School late.  And as soon as we settled in, her eyes popped open.  Of course.

I was a bit nervous about crossing paths with folks from congregation number 1.  We haven’t sent the e-mail we intended to send saying goodbye.  And so, some probably know, but we don’t know what they know.  And some probably don’t.  And showing up at church time, but not going in… that felt like it was going to be awkward.  As it happened, with our late arrival and given that one of the participants stayed after Sunday School to speak with us, we managed to not see anyone at all from congregation number 1 today.  

And here are my thoughts as we begin our singular church commitment… it feels strange.  As much as worshipping with congregation number 1 was not working for us… it was… oh… I don’t know.  Familiar.  Let’s put it out there… it was easy to worship with white folks who worship like white folks generally do and to supplement that with worship with black folks who worship like black folks generally do (and yes, I know that there is diversity among white folks and black folks in approaches to worship).  As unworshipful as congregation number 1 felt to me most of the time… it was wholly familiar.  And well balanced by congregation number 2 which felt frequently surprising and challenging.  

And now, we have only surprising and challenging.  I realize that while we have made the choice that corresponded with our sense of call, we have made the more difficult choice.  Things aren’t all surprising and challenging as we’ve been worshipping with these folks for over a year, but still… no hymns… different order of worship… no written liturgy… testimony… drums… LONG sermons… (well we had that in congregation 1, too!)  But things are different.  And we are different- we are very much in the minority.  And making this our church home… well… it is going to demand a lot of growth weekly.  

Funny how God works… 

But this does feel more like the sabbath to me.  Thanks be to God. 

Over the past several weeks I’ve had a number of conversations with African American students in the discussion section I’m leading for the intro theology class this semester.  The topic for the class’ reflection this week was “revelation”- reflection on how it is that we come to know God.  The professor started the week with a review of some of the rational “proofs” for God’s existence that have been worked out over the years.  Many of the African American students found these to be preposterous, pointless, one even charged them with blasphemy… most spoke of having experiences of “personal” revelation… upon reflection they realized they had been steeped in the church much of their lives and the God they know is primarily the God revealed in Jesus and through the scriptures as witnessed to by the church (in theological terms, they know God through special rather than general revelation)… but each of them had private and personal moments when God became real for them.  The idea that you would sit down and write out a rational argument for the existence of God just seemed totally absurd to them.  Many of the Euro-American students in my group, in contrast, saw these proofs as valuable, if insufficient.  In the course of our discussion on Friday, one of the students asked “Are we basically saying in this class that the proofs are invalid?”  ”No,” I reminded them, “Your professor pointed out how operative most of these are in the assumptions of many people in church pews.  Many people claim they knew there is a God because of how beautiful the world is… this is a teleological/cosmological proof for God’s existence that has NOTHING necessarily to do with the God made known in Jesus Christ.  In fact, most of the people I know take a ‘natural’ or ‘general’ knowledge of God as their starting point and don’t look to Jesus for clarification about who God is.  Most of the people in the congregation I last served were in this boat.”  Several of the African-American students almost fell off their chairs.  They were SHOCKED.  They wanted to be sure that I knew that most of the people they knew had a very different starting point.  And I believe them.

This interaction made me think a bit more deeply about some of the reading of James Cone that I’ve been doing of late for this class.  He argues in “God of the Oppressed” that most African-Americans aren’t concerned with proving the existence of God; they take that as a given.  And they know God as liberator, as savior… on a deeply personal, experiential level and via scripture and church.  The professor teaching the class pointed out to everyone that proofs of God’s existence from natural theology are deeply flawed because of the presuppositions they require and because… well… take a look at the world… you can make a case for an evil, absent, or arbitrary God perhaps more readily than for a good, loving, benevolent God… isn’t it interesting though, that the mostly white folks I know are able to look at the world through rose colored glasses and arrive at sure knowledge of God that way?  And isn’t it interesting if people of color, particularly African-Americans, cannot?  If my great-grandparents had been slaves, and my grandparents had been share croppers, and my parents had attended segregated and unequal schools… If I had family members who had been lynched or nearly lynched… if I got followed by cops every time I drove in a certain neighborhood… I’d need God to make Godself known to me in a way that challenges the world as it is.  Because any God who is behind the world as it is… well… that is not a God worth worshipping.  

How crazy that this never occurred to me before… 

I have a lot to learn.  And may I be humble enough to learn it graciously and patiently… and may I be transformed as I learn it.  

(Any suggestions for a good blog name for congregation number 2?)

Sabbath Struggle

Last Saturday I was at war with myself.  I was tied up in knots of anxiety as I tried my hand at grading for the first time.  The grading process was made more complicated than it needed to be by a number of factors, but regardless… the grading (and the anxiety it triggered) swallowed the day… a day on which I also REALLY needed to grapple with Levinas… I’m a slow reader in any case, but when it comes to philosophy I read painfully slowly…  I wasn’t done grading when dinner time rolled around.  It was our week to enjoy a meal out at our favorite Mexican restaurant which has no opened up a new place even closer to our home, within walking distance!  I spewed my anxiety on the walk there.  I spewed my anxiety as we ate.  I spewed my anxiety as we walked home.  Kev was inordinately patient, as always.  God bless him.  Part of what I was wrestling with in this dinner hour was whether or not I could afford to honor the sabbath the next day.  On the one hand, I NEEDED the rest more than ever (the beginning of this semester did me in… in a lot of ways) and I WANTED to have uninterrupted family time on ONE day of out seven and I made this commitment a year ago… which we have honored more or less faithfully… and which we want to keep honoring.  On the other hand, I had so much reading to do and it was pretty clear there would be loose ends in the grading to return to (before the papers had to go back to the students on Monday morning) and I knew Monday morning could only hold so much…  What I began to realize as I fought this internal war with a spewing of external words was that keeping sabbath requires more trust on my part than tithing does.  And that felt crazy to me.  Further, I realized that the work I would be setting aside was JUST READING… not healing the sick, not sitting at the bedside of a dying person, not comforting the bereaved, not putting out fires… JUST READING… and if it didn’t get done the worst thing that could happen would be that I would look like an idiot in class on Monday… a bit of damage to my pride… and as I’ve been immersed in Augustine of late, that seemed like it could probably be a good thing, ultimately.  So by the time we got home I decided I would honor sabbath the next day, but that I’d stay up as late as possible to get the grading as done as it could be and get some reading/skimming done to minimize the Monday load.  Twas a very late night.  

The next morning dawned peacefully.  I had space and time before church to post the traveling soldiers piece that had been rattling around in my brain the whole week prior.  And then we went to church.

And I realized while sitting through worship in congregation number 1 that worshipping there is neither worshipful nor restful for me… and as it was taking up sabbath time… such hard won sabbath time… this really, really got to me.  We went right into worship at congregation number 2 and that was both worshipful and restful for me (and challenging, nourishing, stimulating… so many things, as it almost always is).  And then… at 2:30 Kev, Caroline, and I were finally headed home and I said “I’m really wrestling with the idea of continuing at congregation number 1 anymore.”  To which Kev, the member and employee there, replied “So am I.  What is behind your saying that right now?”  And I explained.  And then he explained.  And we knew what we had to do.  

But I’ve never left a church, unless I moved away.

And I know the HELL it was as a pastor when people left, especially young families.

And how unbelievably awkward to leave a church, but continue to worship, etc. in the same building.  

But as the week unfolded and we talked and prayed it through and sought wisdom from clergy friends we found a way to say goodbye.  Kev shared the news with the pastor on Friday.  He responded fairly graciously.  We’re going to write a short letter of gratitude to the congregation soon.  And, of course, we’ll be contacting the clerk of session (a woman we love and who LOVES our daughter).  It is sad, but truthfully… once the decision was made, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.  I felt freer than I had in a long time.  

And at bottom, it was all about sabbath… we couldn’t really honor commitments to two churches, and honor sabbath, or at least I couldn’t, not now.  And not any time soon.  And I realized in talking this through with a friend that in a time when I’m wrestling with the dual commitments of motherhood and scholarship, negotiating dual commitment at church as well was just. too. much.  Now, we can really engage in congregation number 2- which needs a new name, and will receive one!  We can participate in Sunday School nurturing relationships with the congregation outside of worship time.  And sabbath can be sabbath.  Worship- true worship.  And rest.  Alleluia.  

Today we worshipped with neither congregation.  I was filling the pulpit at a church that is currently without a pastor.  I recycled a sermon, and life being what it has been… I let a friend (Thank you, Julie!) help with the editing of it… cleaned it up late last night (after reading philosophy, writing about philosophy, and grading… again)… practiced it this morning.  I did very little to prepare for this service, very atypical for me… And I fretted little about it.  I just prayed a lot… please God, make something of my humble offering… let it be o.k…. let it be faithful.  And it was fine.  And worshipful.  And restful.  There is still philosophy to be read.  Much other work to be done.  But we came home to a simple lunch and an attempted nap… and then walked around the zoo for a few hours, taking advantage of the membership my parents gave me for my birthday/us for our anniversary.  And since coming home Kev has been composing, Caroline has been nursing/napping, and I’ve been reconnecting with loved ones.  Soon we’ll have dinner… and then enter into a night of rest.  

And next week our new sabbath rhythm begins.  And I will have to keep praying for the trust to let the work go.  But I will keep praying.

Traveling Soldiers

I tend to meet soldiers when I’m traveling.  Perhaps we all do these days, but given that for the last seven years, though I’ve lived in two very different places, I’ve lived an hour (or less) from two major and heavily deployed army bases, my odds of bumping into soliders at airports or on planes goes up.  And ever since I had the terrible privilege of presiding at the memorial service for the oldest child and only son of a member of the congregation I served after he died a violent death in Iraq (though he was a Marine, not an Army man) and ever since I took the weeks around his death to listen to other men (mostly) who have been fighting this nation’s wars… I feel compelled to listen to military men (and women- though I rarely bump into military women) who feel compelled to speak.  I’m deeply opposed to war, in general, and to the wars we’ve been fighting of late, in particular, but I also think that we have a responsibility to the countries we’ve invaded and that there is no easy way out at this point.  And I know that the men and women who are fighting these wars did not make the decisions that got them there.  And I know that they are doing their jobs.  And I know that they’re a diverse lot.  Some of them believe strongly in what they’re doing and are honored to be doing it.  Some of them have to believe in what they’re doing.  Some of them are just doing it, day by day by day… And I know that not being military it is dangerous for me to assume I know ANYTHING about what members of the military are thinking and feeling.  So, please forgive me if I’ve overstepped my bounds already and let me know if there’s anything else I should note… 

But knowing that I don’t know much, means I try to listen, when I can.

So last Friday a young man in uniform was waiting with us at the Newark airport for our flight to Albany.  It turned out he was on our first flight too.  He let Caroline play with his water bottle and he talked a bit.  Here’s some of what I learned from Randy.  He enlisted as soon as he graduated from high school.  He had TWO WEEKS of basic training and then shipped out to Iraq, at the age of 18.  His job is in artillery.  He was proud of how well he adapted and learned on the job and proud because at one point he was the youngest soldier in Iraq.  He received a coin from a Major General in honor of his youngest soldier status (I learned from him that all the high ranking officers have coins with their faces on them, the president even has some, they’re like baseball cards!)  He has been home now for about a year, but deploys to Afghanistan soon.  He was heading home for a quick weekend to surprise his mom with a visit.  He could not wait for our plane to arrive.  He was positive about his experience in the military and quite appreciative of the leadership of our former president (“Hey, he made mistakes, but who doesn’t?”)  But that one bit of information he shared with pride, that he received TWO WEEKS of training before deploying to what he said is called “The Death Triangle” in Iraq… this boy… sent out with so little training… a boy… that clung to me all weekend.

And then on the way home, when we were stuck in the Charlotte airport because a flight attendant failed to show up for some reason, I bonded with Francine.  She, herself, is not in the military, but her little brother is.  She too is from the Albany area; he too is posted just north of my new southern city.  She was flying down to be with him for a major shoulder surgery.  He has an injury that makes him no longer deployable.  He’ll be out of the army soon.  He’s been on percoset for months.  He’ll be on percoset for months more.  He knows he’s dependent and that scares him.  This major and painful surgery was being done on an outpatient basis.  Francine was convinced he is not receiving the quality of care he requires.  And she is terrified about what experiencing war has done to him.  One of his roommates tried to commit suicide and he was the one to drive him to the hospital.  Another roommate gets obliterated every weekend because he just can’t deal.  When she shared a struggle with her brother once he said “You have to put it in your well– that place deep down where bad feelings and thoughts go to disappear forever.”  ”That’s how they’re teaching them to deal… but it doesn’t go away.  It can’t… they’re changed forever.”  

We’ve been praying for Randy, and for Francine and her brother.  Listening invokes deep prayer.  Please pray with me.

simple things making me happy this morning

• detecting and being able to identify by name the philosophical underpinnings of a podcast to which Kev and I were listening on the way here this morning.  the lecture i heard yesterday took! 
• chose to find all the stairwells to ascend to my seventh floor carrel in the library.  claiming exercise in the bubbles of time of available for it.  
• overcame my poor sense of direction and made a beeline for my new carrel this morning.
• having an open day in which to read, read, read… (and pump, pump in between)