Happy Birthday Mother!

Today is my mother's birthday. She would be 106 years old. I am always amused and fascinated when I look at this photograph of her because while I think it is pretty, it's not the mom who raised me. I don't ever remember her with dark hair, eye lashes,and red fingernails.  By the time I came along she was gray and farm work kept those nails to a short minimum. She wore glasses. The one memory consistent with the photo was her lipstick. I remember her wearing red lipstick every day - and I loved it.

This morning when I woke  my mind revisited all the things my mother could do. My mother could reupholster a sofa or chair. My mother could make draperies. She could kill and pluck a chicken - and then fry it. She could sing. She knew how to piece quilts - by hand. When babies were born, my mother would knit a hat or a pair of booties for a gift. She could make a meringue pie six inches high - well maybe four.

My mother (along with help from my dad) could plant a garden that supplied our food for an entire year. From asparagus to broccoli to zucchini - corn, tomatoes and potatoes - green beans and lima beans (my personal favorite - creamed please) all went into canning jars or freezer bags with enough left over to eat through the summer and give away too. She grew strawberries and rhubarb, not to mention blueberries later in her gardening career. I call her the first Martha Stewart.

My mother knew her Bible. Not only did she personally study on a daily basis, she taught Bible classes. She loved the missionary journeys of the apostle Paul and dreamed of one day going to the Holy Land. When we were there several years ago I often thought about her and wished that dream had come true for her. While she never traveled far, her love of studying mission work at church took her to faraway lands. 

 

Oh, Mom - I miss you.  

I wish you were here to make sense of all that is going on in the world today. You could teach me. You would have a perspective that I could fully trust. I wish you were here to see my children and grandchildren. You would make over them, spoil them, and love them like only a grandmother can do. I wish you were here to talk about the hard issues in life and how to find our way. You would hug me and have an answer. You would point me toward truth and hope. And while I will never pluck a chicken or reupholster a sofa, I pray I can be steadfast like you in my love of the Lord and those I hold close.

Happy Birthday!

Giving In To Our Grief

When the moment of death comes for someone we love, we should give in to the moment. By that I mean we should take off our watch, put down our phone, gather round those closest and just simply "be" in the sorrow of our grief. Cry. Comfort each other. Pray, trusting God will give you His peace that comforts like nothing else.

Coming to terms with death takes time to process. Even when we know it is imminent and we wait through the night and into the morning, the final breath of a loved one jolts our heart, makes it stop beating - or so it feels.  We need time to process this reality of death. We need time to tend to our jolted and broken heart.

It is a time when no words are needed. It is a time when the strident sound of words crush our spirit and seem  insignificant. It is a time to "be still and know that I am God." There just are no words to describe the depth of emotion felt in the moment a loved one dies.

Maybe it is a sacred longing that God infuses into our spirits. A longing that recognizes the truth that this life is short and only a prelude to the concert that awaits us in Heaven. A longing for things to be made right. God, according to Ezekiel 18:32, says, "I take no pleasure in the death of anyone." God hates the isolated incidents of disease, crime, or violence - anything leading to death. God hates death.  God knows more than we do and is working "according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will." ((Ephesians 1:11)

As we give into our grief, we can enter a time of quiet mourning:
-we can know that God is working all things -  even the death of a loved one- for his ultimate glory.
-we can listen for God's still, small voice to guide us through the valley
-we can trust that joy will come, maybe not tomorrow morning, but joy will return
-we can be gentle to those around us who have little or no faith in God
-we can pray knowing God is close to us, the broken-hearted and crushed in spirit
-we can grow in our knowledge and understanding of God's grace and his mercy

We are still broken-hearted , but we have God with us, and that is when healing comes.

 

Small Signs of God - #1 Prayer

The devotional words from the first day of Advent replay in my mind:

"I keep expecting loud and impressive events to convince me and others of God's saving power....Our temptation is to be distracted by them....When I have no eyes for the small signs of God's presence.... I will always remain tempted to despair." (Henri J.M. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American Journal)

Loud and impressive events call our name - especially from the Thanksgiving holidays until we greet the New Year. This year of 2020 will certainly be different - and maybe in a good way. A quieter way. If we weren't in the midst of a pandemic just think of all the things we'd be doing -  concerts, home tours, light displays and parties. Celebrating at church with extra events, musicals, and services. Outings and shopping sprees before dawn ( I only did that once.) And we look around to see if we could just add one more "touch" to our already decorated homes.

We don't mean to be attracted to the "loud and impressive" but sadly we are. Several years ago, I returned from a visit to the largest private home in North America - the beautiful Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. Wowed by the decorations and number of Christmas trees, I came home convinced that I, too, should have something festive in every room. Maybe, I thought, I could just add a small touch to each room—a vase of evergreens in my own, the Christmas "Joy" pillow in one daughter's chair, the outgrown Nutcrackers guarding my son's dresser and a stuffed Frosty The Snowman snuggling on another child's bed. All small signs of the season I love. All small signs of this season of joy— anticipating and waiting for the celebration of Christ's arrival again this year.

But where, I ask, do we catch a whisper of God's presence? Where can we see a "small sign" of God each and every day?

Today it was a friend who asked me to pray with her. We sat by her fire and thanked and requested and praised—and wondered about the small  Christ child who grew up and changed eternity - and then changed us. Quiet and unimpressive to the world, he went quietly about the business of his life and we are the recipients of His wondrous love, having been given this gift of prayer for  daily conversations with the Holy One.

These small signs come to all of us. Do we have the eyes to see? The ears to hear?

 O Wondrous Love,

You come as a small child, helpless, defenseless, homeless... and yet your small hands flung the stars into space and cast planets into their orbits. You whisper my name and invite me to your presence.                 You came so that I might live. I want to stay close to where you are this Advent. Amen

Paper Lantern

 

Somewhere in the past, I wrote about celebration and sorrow - that they are never very far apart. As I look out my window at a perfectly ordered fall day it seems all is well. The birds relax at the feeder with no fear of the pesky squirrels.  A few gently floating leaves whisper of a coming seasonal change, but today the sky is blue and it feels like Indian Summer. Go look outside. Creation helps us  remember that every ordered day is a new cause for celebration - we have never seen this day before so we (should) open our eyes and celebrate the order and beauty of another 24-hour gift.

As we open this gift of one day, we hope for good things - safety, wellness, good news.

But we know full well we will  be asked to face difficult  and dark challenges.

Somewhere between celebration and sorrow, we find ourselves. 

And we must decide who we will be with both.  How are you doing with that?

In my last 24 hours, I received news of an uncle's death, waited for news from a medical procedure, learned of the death of a talented young man, and responded to a request for support for a person facing critical health issues.  Maybe your day has been similar.

Just a few days ago, I witnessed celebration and sorrow in a matter of hours. Participating with a group of church volunteers, we helped host a visitation day for men and their families. These men, called returning citizens, have almost completed their prison sentences and are soon to be released. They were allowed a few hours with their families to visit, play games, enjoy music and a meal together. The joy and celebration among these families was palpable. And then, time flew and the visit was over. Celebration quickly turned to sorrow as families clung to each other, knowing it would be a while longer before they could be a family again.

And so we  must decide who we will be in the midst of our sorrows as well as our joys. 

In the beautifully painful book, Prayer in the Night, Tish Harrison Warren writes about suffering. 

 "The people who I most respect are those who have suffered but did not numb their pain - who faced the darkness. In the process they have become beautifully weak, not tough as nails, not bitter or rigid, but men and women who bear vulnerability with joy and trust. They are almost luminescent, like a paper lantern, weak enough that light shines through."

Looking Back; Looking Forward

As we count the hours until a new year begins, we look with optimism toward the future. May this year be a year filled with goodness, joy, and hope. May it be a year of health and well-being. May it be a year of simple celebrations and discovery. May it be a year of generous service to others. May it be a year of  growth in study and prayer and contemplation. May it be a year of love for our neighbor - and a little for ourselves. May it be a year where God leads and we follow - closely.

Today, the prayer offered from church clergy is so beautiful I had to pass on to you.

Happy New Year!

 Friday | December 31

Rev. Darren Hensley

God of All that is, All that was, and All that will be,

Standing on the precipice of a new year, we pause and praise You for precious memories and new beginnings. Thank You for the many blessings bestowed upon us, and guide our steps as we turn the page to the next chapter of our lives.

Looking back over this past year, O Lord, we take note of triumphs and times of renewal, of achievements shared and relationships cherished, of opportunities to grow and to give. We recall, as well, confrontations, setbacks, pain, and loss – days and nights when we felt the weight of uncertainty, grief, and fear dragging us down. We’re grateful that through it all, You have provided us with everything we need. You have been with us, even, and especially, when we have felt most alone and vulnerable – when we reached out to You with an elemental longing and earnest desire for communion and deliverance. Thank You for surprising us in subtle yet sublime encounters of unsurpassed grace – moments when we discovered we were already in Your loving embrace long before we knew it.

Looking ahead to the new year, O Lord, open our hearts and minds, our eyes and ears, to the living hope that endures and sustains us. A hope that does not just appear when we feel ready but seeks us out whatever our circumstance and nurtures and fortifies us with Your presence in the very depth of our need. A hope that calls us to sacred work – the work of building connections, offering forgiveness, and extending kindness in places of our brokenness and in the everyday, ordinary moments that constitute our lives. Work we do not engage on our own, but through the encouragement and strength of the Holy Spirit.

Be with all who need Your tender care, O God. Keep vibrant our memories of the saints who live forevermore with You. As we go forth into 2022, may we offer all we have in service to You and so to one another in the love of Christ, in whose name we pray, Amen.

Endless Generosity

 

Do you believe in miracles?

When we read the story of Jesus feeding the 5000, we wonder how that miracle could happen. We shake our heads and try to find the meaning of the story. We read all four gospel versions to gain understanding. We learn Jesus and the disciples had been busy and they tried to remove themselves to rest, but the crowds pursued this new world Jesus was demonstrating in his love and compassion and care. They just couldn't get enough of him.

I find it interesting that in all four gospels, Jesus asks the disciples how the people should be fed. In all four gospels, he even says pointedly "You feed them."  He already knows he will perform the miracle, but he tests the disciples to see if they trust him.

And then, Jesus blesses the food and feeds the crowd and there is an abundance of leftovers to share.

"And all ate and were filled; and they took up twelve baskets full of broken pieces and of the fish. 

Mark 6:42-43

For me, this is symbolic of why the church offers the sacrament of Holy Communion and why it is important to participate.

Granted, because of the pandemic, we now receive it in what resembles a pill packet. The foil is peeled back to uncover a tiny bit of "bread of life, broken for you"  Turn the packet over and peel back to receive "the cup of salvation poured out for you". It takes more introspection to receive the elements this way.  It's not about a minister, or the beautiful chalice, or coming to the altar to receive it. It's just about our own heart tuned to the Giver and the gift we have all been given. A miracle.

Walter Brueggeman says Communion is the reminder: "Jesus has turned the world into abundance. God is the gift who keeps on giving and the people around Jesus are empowered to receive abundance and in turn, to act generously." 

Are you astonished at the surplus in your life? 

Maybe that's one miracle of Advent!

God of Endless Generosity,

In your love you welcomed when you were tired, you healed when you saw the needs of the helpless, you fed when you saw the hungry. And you showed us by your example what we should do for a hurting world. Help us to have the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and a heart to know your will. 

Astound us, God, with your miraculous love. 

(Celebrating Abundance by Walter Brueggeman. Westminster John Know Press. 2017)

 :

Come Alongside

 

The call came to find resources for a young wife and mother who is left suddenly without her husband, whose children are left confused and wondering where Daddy went so suddenly.

I look out the window on this beautifully ordered fall day and wonder too. 

While in our best attempts to come alongside, support those who are experiencing devastating loss, we can never take the pain away. We can never fully feel the depth of their sorrow. We can never make their lives feel normal again. We feel so helpless. We have no words. We are awkward and confused ourselves.  We are like the children, left wondering why someone so important in their lives is now not coming home to dinner, not kicking the ball in the park, not tucking them in bed and singing their favorite song.

While we have no human ability to heal the broken hearts around us, the Bible says God will heal. Psalm 34:18 reminds us “The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

We will never truly be set free from the grief we carry with us – ours or someone else’s, but we can find comfort in the simple coming alongside another in their pain. The gentle quiet of spirit touching spirit, hearts anchored in an eternal longing that yearns for the world to be made right moves us toward healing and hope. As a devotional read this morning. “These longings and desires—to be whole, to be a part of something beautiful—are a good thing. They are not to be dismissed. They are given to us by God. They are inside of us because we are made for eternity, for Heaven, for communion with the Holy Trinity and with his saints. This is where our story is headed, our true home where our grief is healed, and we are made whole again.”

As believers, we have a home being prepared for us. Our story is not finished.  Death does not have the final say. We are created for an eternal home in Heaven. And because we have this kind of hope, we discover we do have something to offer - we can comfort others by offering all the physical things that represent peace, love, kindness, and goodness. It’s different for each one because we all have different gifts, but when given in love, offer up a pleasing aroma to the Lord.