33 Names of Grace

Christmas Poem 2011

2011-12-24T15:27:00.000-06:00

"And the Word became flesh and lived among us." John 1:14a

What word seeded the cell?

Which letter of God's alphabet

anchored the sequence of life?

Did the angel speak it or sing?

Did Mary hear the Word's whisper,

as it moved, sure-footed, into the world?

– Michelle M. Hargrave, 2011

I should be writing another sermon just now...

2011-12-23T15:19:00.004-06:00

Kelly surprised me with flowers, always a brilliant move. What color!

And my amaryllis is blooming again.

Family stuff

2011-12-21T12:06:00.002-06:00

Theo in his "Gentleman's Suit" in Albert Lea on Thanksgiving.

Three generations of Coyles sharing with Theo's class. Kelly is holding a Confederate flag and Theo is sporting a Confederate hat. (Those southern roots are showing.)

Zane playing in a flute trio at the 6th Grade Band Concert, very reluctantly in a tie. The 6th grade girls were giggly and waved to me before the performance, "Hi Zane's Mom!"

Both grandmas were in attendance. Now that mom is retired she can get to these events.

What I've Been Doing Lately

2011-11-05T15:21:00.002-05:00

When I'm not working, anyway...

Cascade Falls south of Grand Marais

Sunrise Cairn in a pool by Artist's Point, Grand Marais

Sunset on the bay of Grand Marais

Sunrise on Lake Superior

Petals of a sunflower at Como Conservatory

Mama's got a new lens

2011-08-14T16:16:00.003-05:00

and it is fast! This is the first day Theo has ever jumped off the edge of the pool into the water, and I caught him at just this point -- looks like he is walking on water.

(Nikkor 50 mm 1.4)

Ludington State Park

2011-07-09T19:27:00.002-05:00

After a week in Flint, Michigan with my youth group we stopped briefly at Ludington State Park on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. It was a welcome and gorgeous reprieve after the urban devastation and poverty of Flint.

Oh, and then the night at Ludington United Methodist Church.

The Speech I Didn't Get to Make

2011-06-05T20:46:00.003-05:00

Last week at Annual Conference we debated a piece of legislation supported by the United Methodist General Commission on Religion and Race which originated from ColorLines.com and the Applied Research Center concerning language about immigrants. Called Drop the I-Word, the legislation asked that United Methodists stop calling people "illegals", "illegal workers" and "illegal immigrants." GCORR suggests that we use the term "undocumented" instead.

This seems rather straightforward to me. The debate began, and I sort of tuned out, but then one person after another came to the microphone to make horrible speeches about "those" people. I turned to the woman next to me and said, "Someone should say something different than this." Then I thought, "I could do that."

I've been going to these Annual Conferences for twenty years. I've held a wide variety of leadership positions, but I've never stood up to speak about a piece of legislation. But I went to microphone 5 and stood there, quite nervous. I preach without notes, but I wasn't quite sure how I was going to do this. Then a woman from La Puerta Abierta UMC stood up and spoke very movingly about the place of immigrants in our community. My District Superintendent, Rev. Liz Lopez, stood next to her and took her arm, and several others stood behind her. It was a moving speech, just what we needed to hear. Then debate was tabled until the next day because we had run out of time.

So that night I wrote out a speech, but then the next morning the committee that brought the legislation asked to table it indefinitely. They said the point was to talk about language and the ensuing language of the debate was awful (my word, not theirs.) Then they asked if all those who supported the point of the legislation would stand. Most of the room stood.

So here is what I meant to say:

I speak in favor of this motion.

My eldest son played Abraham Lincoln in the school program this week, dressed up in full costume, hat and all, and his line was Lincoln saying that the thing he was most certain of in his life was signing the emancipation proclamation.The interesting thing is that Zane is originally from Colombia, and a citizen of this country through adoption. The most important things in our possession are his citizenship papers. He is privileged to be an American Citizen because his father and I come from people who immigrated here over a century ago and we chose to adopt him.

I am reminded of my privilege as an American citizen when I look at him.

And I tell him, and his younger brother, pretty regularly, that the words we use to talk about people matter. And that is what we are talking about -- language, and the perceptions that come because of the words we use to describe people. We are people of privilege, called to speak with care about our neighbors. Using the word "undocumented" instead of "illegal" or "illegals" is pretty simple, and pretty powerful.

So I'm going to sign the petition at GCORR's site. And then think about how we can talk about this in my congregation. And I'm going to change my language.

Raindrop

2011-04-28T09:46:00.000-05:00

Post Holy Week Hangover

2011-04-25T17:51:00.004-05:00

It's the day after Easter and I can hardly think straight. I don' t know why it should be so exhausting, but the buildup to Holy Week, the several days in a row of services, the glorious festivities of Easter wipe me out and now I'm needing to tend to all the tasks I put aside for Holy Week (by Thursday I wasn't answering phone calls if it wasn't about worship.)

But it was an amazing Holy Week. A few lovely moments:

*a quiet few minutes with the youth doodling their prayers on Wednesday

*setting up the candles for the Tenebrae service while the choir, brass, handbells and organ practiced Easter music

*washing a young boy's feet at the Foot Washing time before the Thursday dinner. Then washing an older man's feet. And having my feet washed, as gently as it is possible to wash someone's foot

*standing in back of the sanctuary after the Tenebrae service as everyone left in the low light, into a cold rain. It is always a particularly emotional service, the difficult story and the growing dark

*listening to my lay people at St. Alban's Good Friday service, singing "The Old Rugged Cross" with them, sharing in fellowship with our friends there

*walking miles and miles (about 15 over three days) memorizing the Gospel lesson and sorting out my sermon

*cuddling with my boys as we sang the hymns on Sunday morning

*feeling the energy of the packed second service with the light streaming in the window

But now Jesus has risen and I'm wiped out. And I have nothing brilliant to say about that.

Mars and hamster moms

2011-03-25T14:23:00.001-05:00

Last week on spring break Theo wanted to see "Mars Needs Moms." He rarely asks to see a movie, so we went together one afternoon and settled in with our 3D glasses and popcorn. It's a Disney movie, so you know the plot: a crisis in the parent/child relationship ensues immediately. Ten minutes in the boy says to mom, "I wish I didn't have a mom." The martians come and steal her, and off we go into the plot.

Theo heard that line, took off his 3D glasses, and slumped in his chair. I asked him what was wrong and he said, "This movie isn't funny." We left shortly after, even though I kept reassuring him the boy was going to save him mom from the martians.

Two days later Zane and I were at the pet store to get him a hamster (round 2) for Zane Day. Zane Day is our version of Adoption Day, a day we celebrate becoming a family (on March 24, 2000 at 11:10 a.m. Zane was handed to us in Bogota, Colombia.) We looked at all the hamsters then asked for help. The guy picked each one up and showed us, commenting on the qualities: black, white, small, quick, friendly, etc. He picked one out of a cage high up and it leapt out of his hand and went sploot on the floor. He calmly picked it up and put it back in the cage. I decided we wouldn't get that one.

It came down to two teddy bear hamsters sharing a cage, a mother and child. Zane hesitated, then choose the baby. The guy was busy boxing the hamster up for us and I, with a gnawing in my stomach, looked at Zane. His face was full of emotion. I waited a moment, wondering what to do. This was our adoption day remembrance, after all.

"Doesn't feel right, does it?" I said.

"I don't like taking the baby away from the mom," he said.

Hesitation....

"Do you want to get both of them?" I said.

His face lit up. "Can we?"

Zane told the pet store guy this was his Adoption Day gift. The guy stared at Zane a long moment and said, "I'm adopted, too." Long silence.

Well, we brought two hamsters home.

Kelly immediately asked questions about incest and inbreeding (not the conversation we expected for adoption day) (to which Zane said, "That's nasty") and whether the two could share one cage or not. By the end of the week we had two complete hamster setups. The mom and child (gender unknown) live in an upstairs/downstairs sort of arrangement on Zane's bookshelves.

A lot of money wasted last week, perhaps, and a lot of silliness involved: I paid for two movie tickets (Imax, 3D) and we saw only part of the movie. I went to get one hamster and came home with two, then immediately separated the two hamsters we couldn't part in the store so they wouldn't fight or do anything "nasty." But I was moved by both my tender sons' reactions to the separation of mothers and their children, Disney and pet store style.

Scenes from St. Johns

2011-03-05T17:51:00.005-06:00

Rockin...

2011-02-27T20:15:00.002-06:00

Theo sang a solo at the Mid-winter concert today.

Mama should have ironed that shirt.

St. Francis in Snow

2011-02-22T15:42:00.003-06:00

St. Francis Sunday morning before worship.

2.20.11, 9 a.m.

St. Francis Sunday noon

2.20.11

St. Francis this morning

2.22.11 10 a.m.

Toothless Theo

2011-02-07T16:30:00.000-06:00

January Orchid

2011-01-04T18:45:00.000-06:00

After about two years of just sitting there, the orchid plant bloomed.

Christmas with the Boys

2010-12-27T22:08:00.003-06:00

Christmas Eve the church sidewalks had an inch of snow left on them so Kelly and the boys shoveled the whole thing.

Zane, being 11, couldn't stay upright and ended up in the snowbank. He surprised me a few weeks ago in the Christmas program at church when I realized his voice had changed. I had missed it happening, but there it was, a bass amidst all the altos of his classmates.

Theo and Kelly on Christmas Day. Theo considers a day when he doesn't have to put proper clothes on a good day, so we're a few days running now in his pajamas.

On top of the pajamas today he is wearing his new Mario suit. This might give you an idea of the sort of things he got for Christmas this year.

Mom's Retirement Party

2010-12-27T21:42:00.004-06:00

After 47 years of working in the lab at the hospital in Albert Lea, my mother retired.

Besides people from the hospital, family and friends came on a very snowy night to help her celebrate.

This poster was to emulate the many science projects Mom had helped students work on over the years.

Dad was quiet most of the night, but added at the end that "she never missed a day of work due to the weather" because he always got her there, no matter what (except for the day after the 1967 tornados, when the sheriff's office had to give her a ride.)

Mom even made a speech. Besides the amazing scope of change she had witnessed during her tenure at the hospital (she recalled the days when cigarette machines were in the lobby and the break rooms were full of ash trays) I was interested to hear her talk about the compromises she made to work full time, continue her education and raise three kids. My sister Vickie and I both reflected on what it was like to have a happily working mom for a role model, and how much we learned from her.

And now she is sewing like crazy, and visiting grandsons. Welcome to retirement, Mom!

New Mexico in Black and White

2010-12-27T21:28:00.003-06:00

Getting Theo Out of the Bathtub: Santa Fe Sunsets

2010-12-27T21:17:00.005-06:00

Someone suggested to me that Theo had been in the bathtub too long (see previous post.) So here are some sunsets from Santa Fe, December 2010.

Theo's Bath

2010-10-19T21:46:00.001-05:00

Split Rock Lighthouse Hike

2010-10-02T16:00:00.006-05:00

First Day of School

2010-09-07T17:13:00.003-05:00

Zane and Theo.

Zane is in 5th grade.

Theo started first grade, which he says is "way cooler."

Theo is Seven!

2010-08-24T17:26:00.004-05:00

And the storm troopers are dancing...

And Boba Fett protects the cake.

Wet flora and reflections

2010-06-11T23:05:00.006-05:00

Annual Conference Moments

2010-06-04T10:12:00.002-05:00

* Met the Bishop as I was out walking with a friend the first morning, and she jokingly told us to not walk so far and get so many steps (I've been ahead of her on our pedometer competition lately.)

* When we elected the new class of elders and deacons to Full Membership they entered the crowded room dancing to the "wedding video" song, complete with sunglasses, Bibles, and the Book of Discipline. It was a joyous response to what I remember being one of the best moments of my own life. It was also great to see how close the class had become.

* Ordination was joyful last night. I always love that service, and find it so joyful to process in with my colleagues and to worship with them. Being responsible for lining them up beforehand, however, is one of the harder tasks I've had -- like herding cats! Very chatty cats.

* We've been learning about worship this year with Marcia McFee, so worship has been full of movement, color, a variety of music, and great visuals. So my lay delegate and I are scheming. I already plan preaching a year in advance, and the music gets planned then. But what if we had a team of folks to dream up some creative responses to the themes?

* We passed legislation to send to the 2012 General Confernce removing all the language in the Book of Discipline referring to glbt folk and the ways we discriminate against them.

* We have simplified our clergy pay structure, are currently debating housing policies, and have a budget set at 2004 levels.

* We also debated child custody issues at length.

* We have remembered clergy and clergy spouses we have lost (Phyllils and Clem who have been part of Fairmount, and my dear friend Tom).

* Today we heard that Rev. Toby Horst died last night while we were ordaining a new generation of clergy. Toby is one of the clergy who took me on a trip to New York and Washington DC when I was a teenager. That trip did 2 things for me: introduced me to my best friend, Becky, and introduced the justice piece of the United Methodist pattern of discipleship. Thank you, Rev. Horst, and rest in peace.

* We always sing, as required, "And Are We Yet Alive" at clergy session. One phrase struck me this year: fightings without and fears within...I've been wondering about the overall anxiety in the system these days, and there is a hint that fear has been a part of the church from early years.

* I've been pleased to see the good leadership of Fairmount Avenue here at Conference. Murray is our new Trustees Chair, Naren was here for Emma Norton, and Barbara has been here representing the congregation. Not to mention Kristin, one of the clergy attached to the church, who came for yesterday's events.

* The most joyous part of conference is always seeing one another. It is hard to walk through the halls because we are so busy with greetings and hugs. I love the connectional system and how it takes shape in relationships over so many years.

* I'm just about ending my 19th year of ministry. I suppose I'm just about halfway through -- definitely middle-aged!!

Como Conservatory, May 5

2010-05-05T20:50:00.005-05:00

And something from the garden...

Nikon Flash Class

2010-04-27T22:03:00.007-05:00

I actually took these photos tonight at a Nikon flash class at National Camera Exchange.

Bit of grace for Theo

2010-04-24T21:52:00.003-05:00

I know, I know. It has been two months.
I'm not sure I can say exactly why my posts have slowed down so much. But I think one reason is that the thing I most want to write about I haven't been ready to write about.

About two months ago we took another interesting turn with Theo. We had another one of those awful IEP meetings where I ended up crying and the staff all looked at each other over their glasses and I could almost hear them "tsk"ing. It's the scenario where the special ed experts are trying to tell the anxious parents that they have missed something and have to get a new diagnosis, but of course they can't say this so the conversation is roundabout and obscure and terribly aggravating. I'm always ready to be aggravated at those meetings, with everyone trying to manage my delightful child who isn't fitting in, isn't doing what he is supposed to.

We had him tested for ADHD, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

And the diagnosis came back: ADD (no hyperactivity.)

Now, I've always thought of myself as the kind of mom who would fight medication, would try all the organic diets, etc. I have all the articles and the books on my shelves already. But it was immediate for me -- we decided to try the medication. (Giving amphetamines to my baby every morning??!! I was a wreck, and he knew it.)

So Kelly and I sent him off to school that day and anxiously awaited his return home. We sat him down at the dining room table with a snack and watched, dumbfounded, as Theo talked and talked and talked and talked, coherently, fascinatingly, and thoroughly. This is not what we were used to.

We now have -- not a new Theo, but a different one, or maybe much more of him. Kelly calls him "Theo Mach 2." And we are astounded.

Some little circuit in his brain is now working, a circuit we hardly missed. We wondered why he didn't talk much, why he couldn't follow directions, why he couldn't manage conversations, why he couldn't put his socks and shoes on when he was supposed to. Now he pretty much does. And he talks, all day long. There is a lot going on inside his head. Now some little circuit, some bit of map in his head, has finally been repaired, drawn complete, finished, at least temporarily every day until the medication wears off. During those hours we are getting to know our son all over again.

He is demanding a relationship with all of us in a new way. He is insisting on connecting with kids in a different way. He is ready to try new things. And he talks, all the time.

He is catching up on all he missed the last several years. He is six years old, and Theo is now rehearsing everything, every transition he's been through, in his memory, which is vast. "Do you remember in 2007 when we first saw our new house?" "Do you remember in 2007 when I had a friend for two weeks?" "Do you remember in 2006 when we were in the old house?" "Do you remember..." We had to re-enact his 4th birthday party the other night, complete with streamers in the house and a dance party. He never spoke of any of this before. Now he is telling us what he remembers, rehearsing it, and, I supposed, processing it all.

Now he says, "I don't like that." "I want to do this." "I don't want to do that." He and his brother are fighting all the time, like brothers are supposed to. He has opinions about what he will and won't do with his time, like he's supposed to. And he is sticking up for himself. He might even be learning how to be naughty -- we aren't sure about that yet. He's been covering about four years of developmental tasks in the last 6 weeks. I can't imagine what summer will be like.

It seems like a miracle. A tiny little dose of a very powerful drug and Theo is articulate and present. We don't know all of what this means for the future, but it's a bit of grace right now.

Transfiguration

2010-02-15T21:54:00.004-06:00

My boys and I went outside to play Sunday afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa's. The sun was bright on the new snow and, halfway down the hill among the trees near the house, there was little wind. We flung ourselves down the hill on sleds then they settled in to play on the pile left by the plow. I walked downhill to the edge of the property, following the deer path, snow so deep I walked over the barbed-wire fence, hardly noticing it. I could hear the boys arguing and playing, their voices falling downhill easily. Then I turned and went back up the path, noticing the spot where the deer hairs lay in the snow, where the prints went off the path. I circled around the back of the house, listened to the boys more closely, then headed uphill beyond the protection of the trees.

At the top of the hill I walked southeast, facing the brilliant sun. Everything was white -- snow, sun -- except the blue of the sky. The wind was at my back and I felt I could walk forever, into the light. I remembered the scripture from worship that morning. The preacher referenced the story of the Transfiguration, Jesus' face and clothing shining with light while the disciples cowered, misunderstanding, under the voice of God on the mountain. I had sat in the church where I grew up with my son on one side and the mother of my childhood friend on the other. Zane managed the bulletin and hymnal well by himself but I kept track of where we were for my friend's mother, pointing to the next piece of liturgy, signing her name in the register. She lost her son, my friend, a few years ago, and her mind a little at a time, from the thief Alzheimers. The preacher spoke of the light and beauty on our faces, of being changed into glory one degree at a time. He had us turn to each other and say, "You are beautiful." I told my friend's mother, and she giggled and said, "That's nice."

I could have walked in the light forever but I knew I had to go back sooner or later. I tried walking backwards for a bit, but finally I turned northwest, into the incessant wind. It stung my eyes and burned my cheeks. The sun was behind me now, and I saw in front of me my shadow.

I wonder if that is what the disciples saw, coming down the mountain, the light behind them and the shadow in front, cold wind stinging them and making them cry. If that isn't how they felt they would soon enough. I always imagined it being a walk into a warm, green scene, but in winter the path from transfiguration is more likely this: facing straight into the wind, going where you must go, into the shadows that keep apace.

After worship that morning, after one of the rare Sundays when I don't lead worship but just sit and soak it all in, enjoying the welcome of people who have known me my whole life, singing the old hymns I love in a room where I first heard God's voice, I got a phone call from my church -- one of my congregation suffered a painful loss. Soon I was scheduling a memorial service, wondering how to bring comfort to people in yet another season of grief.

It's not that clear, really, the times of light and the times of shadow in our lives, the up and down the mountain, they come so close together.It isn't really like we take a little sunny vacation with Jesus and then come down to go to work. It's more like taking a walk with the wind against your back for a few moments, basking in the light of the white winter sun, knowing you have to turn the other way and face the sting too.

When I got down to the house, I lay on the snowbank awhile and watched the sky. It was a pure, cold blue, fierce and out of reach. Then I coaxed the boys inside for cocoa, checked them for frostbite, and went about the regular things that make up a day. We are changed, yes, but degree by degree, one windburn after another, one heartache to another, one afternoon of light and shadow to the next.

Hoarfrost in Albert Lea

2010-02-15T21:38:00.007-06:00

Aspects of Amaryllis

2010-01-24T16:53:00.005-06:00

Ice and Ministry

2010-01-23T16:04:00.003-06:00

On Christmas Day we had a wintry mix of rain and lots of snow, and then numbing cold. So the streets froze solid in a washboard style, or more like cross-country skiing -- each side street has two deep ruts to drive in, and if you meet a car you have to jump out of the rut and go to the side so it can pass. It has been this way for a month now. Today it is raining, and the ruts are getting a little shallower, but there are still inches of street ice near every sidewalk entrance to the church.

I put on my rain gear and went out a bit ago to see what I could do. I chopped ice, I scooped ice, I threw around the water. It feels good to work physically sometimes, even though my right arm doesn't work quite like it used to. I scooped and chopped, and then I noticed that water was running right in to fill where the ice had been. When it freezes tonight it will freeze solid, and nothing will have changed.

I thought, "Well, this is a lot like ministry. You chop, you scoop, you try to make a safe path for folks, you try to make a difference, and sometimes the water just rushes right back in and freezes solid again." So often you can't see that anything was accomplished at all except a sore shoulder and wet feet.

But it is the work I do, that I love to do, and people voluntarily give money to the church in part to pay me for it (the ministry, not the ice-chopping,) so apparently it is deemed necessary.

Of course I must mention that a layperson happened by and grabbed a shovel to help. We kept saying to one another, "You should go in. You shouldn't be doing this. We aren't getting anywhere." But we kept at it for half an hour or so, catching up on various things as we worked. Finally, soaked and a little sore, we quit, and put the shovels away.

And that's sort of how it all is, really.

Como Conservatory in January

2010-01-15T22:29:00.006-06:00

Lovely trip to Como Conservatory this afternoon, but I wasn't really thrilled with the pictures. Anyway, here are a few:

The conversation goes on...

2010-01-15T08:42:00.004-06:00

This morning I was talking to a friend. I was telling him how hard it is to believe he is dead. "I keep thinking I can just pick up the phone, or drive over and visit you," I said.

He smiled his familiar grin and said, "You are talking to me right now, aren't you?"

Then my alarm went off, and I woke up.

Minneapolis Sculpture Garden in January

2010-01-14T22:54:00.005-06:00

This isn't in black and white -- just looks like it. See the cherry in the middle there?

Now you can see the red. I had just a few minutes in-between meetings so I packed my wide-angle lens.

There is a cool reflective piece of art in the garden, all frosted over right now.

Technical Difficulties

2010-01-03T21:10:00.002-06:00

Well, I haven't put much on my blog lately. I haven't been able to upload any pictures -- I used up all my allotted free space. So I've upgraded my space and perhaps soon I can display some Christmas pictures.

Meanwhile, it's been a lovely Christmas.

Christmas Poem, 2009

2009-12-24T08:11:00.001-06:00

"I tell you, if these were silent
the stones would shout out."
-- Jesus, in Luke 19:40

But they were singing
at the beginning, too,

vibrating in the silent
space between atoms,

the groans of creation joining
with one woman's voice,

a cry we may yet hear
in the moment after sound.
-- Michelle M. Hargrave, 2009

Children's Christmas Program

2009-12-20T13:19:00.000-06:00

My eldest was Herod this morning. He was a little uncomfortable with the notorious role, but he knew his lines and said them clearly, and got to wear a great costume.

Theo opted out. Last week while he was crying and I was trying to convince him to go to rehearsal (he was supposed to dress as an angel and say, "A savior" on cue) he said to me, "Momma, I need more space than that." Well, he's right, he does need more space than the whole program would have allowed, and there is hardly any chance he would have said what he was supposed to when he was supposed to. He did, this morning, indicate that perhaps next year he'll be in the program.

Well. I've seen these programs for years. We do this every Christmas. Every year the kids are cute, every year some forget their lines, every year weird things go wrong and are delightful. This year, though, I nearly cried through the whole thing. I don't think it was because I had one kid in it, and one kid not. I just found it so moving, all these people working so hard for the children to tell us this story about a little baby, again.

Prompting dilemmas

2009-12-02T06:52:00.003-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I had tea with a friend and then went to a shopping center at County Road C and Snelling to Once Upon a Child to sell size 5 boy clothes. I went back to my car, pulled out of my spot and thought, "Which way shall I exit the shopping center?" I used to work on C-2 so I sometimes drive out of my way north to that road to make an easy right-hand turn onto Snelling, an easy shot home. It is more direct, however, and shorter, to take the frontage road to the stoplight and turn left onto C and then right onto Snelling. Last time that way was full of traffic, but it was earlier, about 4 pm, and still light. I paused a moment, sitting there, and then drove out of my way, north to C-2 and onto Snelling.

A few hours later my mother-in-law called and breathlessly said to me, "Where is everybody?"

"We are all sitting down at dinner," I replied. "Why?"

She told me of a seven car pileup at the intersection of C and Snelling (she had just returned from the grocery store there) with fatalities, and she knew I was planning to go there sometime during the day. She said the accident was at 4 pm and I said, "I was just through that intersection at 4. I must have just missed it."

Kelly and I have had several near misses the last few days.

A few hours later I checked my facebook page and saw that two women I know were planning to drive through that intersection at 4 and were late or made a stop instead. We started musing about it all when I decided to check the news report. I learned there the accident wasn't just at the intersection. Someone had a "major medical event" and plowed a mini-van into a line of cars on the east-bound lane of County Road C waiting at the Snelling light. One woman died, one is critically injured, and seven cars were involved. This happened about 4 pm.

That is the road I decided not to take yesterday afternoon, that little stretch of road going eastbound to Snelling on County Road C. At 4 pm.

So a prayer of thanks goes up for another near miss (how many do we have each day?) and a prayer for all those injured or grieving because of that accident. But here is my dilemma:

How did I know to go to other way? or was it a lucky guess?

I teach people in Covenant Discipleship to pay attention to spiritual promptings, and it seems to me that the more we pay attention to them the more we get. They are often things like, "Call so and so" and then you find out they were thinking of you or needed a call right then or things like that. Or a prompting is a suggestion (by the Holy Spirit) to do this instead of that. A little dose of spiritual wisdom and a nudge from God to do the right thing.

But does God send us nudges to go this way or that when someone is having a major medical event and may careen into our old vehicle, trapped in rush hour traffic on a suburban road?

Theologically this does not make sense to me. But it is how I experience the world. I always know before I have an accident, I mean hours beforehand. Kelly does too. I always know whom I will marry the moment I meet them (well, both times that happened.)

Theologically there is a problem here because I can't imagine God goes around saving some people and not others. So do some of us get the message and others not? (Some might argue salvation is like that. But I don't buy it.) I don't think God is that involved in the little and large details of our lives ("here's a parking space. Don't take that road.) And yet I have these experiences, often enough that I can't ignore them.

Just yesterday afternoon Kelly and I were musing over this sort of thing. He had an event (I should let him tell it) of knowing something just before it happened, an odd but not useful happening. We joked about how this happens to us -- like we see or hear something before it actually happens -- but it never includes stock tips.

But premonitions now, we have those. So does God send us little notes and nudges all day long? Or does time bend? Or is this all the same thing? Is this all just random free will that we read meaning into later?

And what words of comfort are there for all those who are caught in the wrong lane of traffic, and how will I feel if I don't get the warning first sometime?

Sunday off

2009-11-29T14:22:00.002-06:00

I took this weekend off. I didn't take all my vacation last year and figured it out too late, so this time I sat down with my calendar and thought, "Hmm. When will I be tired?" and blocked off the first Sunday of Advent, Valentine's Sunday, and some appropriate family vacation time. I didn't know then that I would spend the week before this break with the burial and memorial service of a friend and colleague, and how tired I would be right now. Nor did I know my mother-in-law would ask to take the boys for the weekend to see her sister in Iowa. Nor did I know I would spend much of it very, very, sick.

But a break it is, and we did some Christmas shopping (nearly finished) and saw Devotchka and Leo Kottke and have had some quiet time together in the house. I have propped myself up on the couch and watched whatever _I_ wanted to watch, without negotiating with my eldest son.

But Sunday morning off , especially living inches from the church, is weird. I used to be able to skip church all together, but I haven't been able to for the last year or so. Part of the Covenant Discipleship expectation (I'm in one of our several groups here at Fairmount) is that we attend worship if able. Maybe that is working on me. Or maybe I just know I need to worship once in awhile, even though it is hard to turn off the what-can-I-learn-today part of hearing someone else preach. So I woke up this morning, here next door to church, and had to figure out where to go.

I ended up at House of Hope Presbyterian on Summit. It's a big steeple church, elegant, gorgeous, formal. The music was stunning. We had communion (seated, with the elements distributed one at a time.) I couldn't see the preacher -- he was in the preaching nest and I was, late, seated behind a pillar. But it was a solid, thoughtful, pastoral reflection on the apocalyptic texts of Advent I usually struggle to address myself. And I got to be moved by worship without worrying about pulling myself together for the next part of the service.

My boys are on the road home now -- I miss them terribly-- and I have Advent candles for us to light together. And I still have (barring a funeral in the next few days) two days off to laze about or prepare for the season. Happy first Sunday of Advent.

Herb and Dorothy Vogel

2009-11-22T22:23:00.001-06:00

I preached about the story of Herb and Dorothy Vogel this morning. Their "50 for 50" gift of art brought 50 pieces of art to the Weisman Art Museum in Minnesota.

Lucky, or something

2009-11-20T22:48:00.003-06:00

I interrupted a break-in this week at church. It happened this way:

I had a meeting at 7:30, just a few people, and we were all a few minutes late. I walked up to the building and the door was unlocked. The lights were on. I walked in and when I turned down the hallway to my office, a man came down the hall, smiled at me and said hi and walked out the door. I walked past the doorway to the Wesley Room and saw another man come out of the dark kitchen and he smiled at me, said hi, and walked directly out the door. I unlocked my office door, set down my coat and thought, "Huh. I wonder what they were doing here." I wandered around a bit, found two trustees working in the basement, and kept wondering what was wrong.

It took me ten minutes to figure it out. When I noticed the door jamb had been jimmied out 1/4 inch or so I knew what had happened: the first man had been working on my door and when he heard me walk in he hid his tool and walked past me outside.

At that point I called 911 and the police came and walked through the building with me. Nothing was stolen so I didn't file a report, but my call is on their record. They assured me it was fine to call 911 if it happened again.

So we are reconsidering our locking policies. I think I should put a note on my office that says, "Nothing of value in here except biblical commentaries" though I'm sure that wouldn't work. And now I am less confident of running next door when the building is empty, especially at night. And I do (did) that a lot.

I haven't had enough emotional energy to think about it much this week; I'm more emotional about a friend that died, whom I was with all afternoon the day this happened. But there are moments when I think, What if I'd been four minutes later? I would have walked into someone inside my office, and that would have been a whole different thing.

But that didn't happen. What did happen was I saw (and smelled) two suspicious men and walked right past them. I didn't ask them what they were doing, which I normally would have done ("Excuse me, I'm the pastor here. Can I help you?") but I let them walk right past. While the front of my brain was running through the church calendar and all the reasons they might have been there, talking myself out of assuming the worst, the back of my brain was telling me to just walk on past. And I did.

I was lucky, or something. I hope next time I'm smarter. But it is what it was, a possibly terrible, and actually distressing, encounter in a church, the last place you expect it.

Doctors, Pastors

2009-11-20T16:22:00.003-06:00

I had an appointment with a new doctor this week. I get a new doctor every year, apparently -- ever since moving back to the Twin Cities my doctors keep moving away after a year of me. (Maybe I shouldn't take it personally.) So last time I was in my clinic I asked a staff person: give me the name of a female doctor who has been here awhile.

And so my appointment. I was thrilled with her, and hope I get to keep working with her. She listened well, wasn't judgmental, seemed smart and on top of things and all that. But I also realized that (beyond the hope that I might get to keep one doctor for awhile) I was comfortable with her because she was so much like me. Startlingly like me, actually: same gender, race, age, marital and parenting status. And not too skinny. Just made the whole thing easier because there were so few cultural gaps to jump.

So, whew, found good doctor.

But, hmm, raises an issue about pastoring.

I am having a great time at my current church partly, I know, because I hit my demographic so squarely. I'm pastoring people who are mostly my race, more often than not my gender and surprisingly my age. Many, many people are at the same stage of parenting I am. Many are happily married. Our education is so similar I even went to school with a bunch of them. I can toss out a cultural reference in my sermons and forty people nod their heads at me. It's just a little easier.

But I love being pastor to people of all ages, men and women, and people of different races and backgrounds. I'm a pretty common demographic in my church but the variety is great fun too. Each Sunday we have folks ranging from 0-90 something. We represent four races, different economic and educational backgrounds, and different sexual orientations. That makes for a good community and wonderful ministry.

Pastor Rich and I feel it is really important to have variety on the pastoral staff if possible, and we are glad to work together representing two generations and both genders.

But I've been thinking about my comfort with my doctors, and wondering if it is hard for folks who are different than me to get used to me as a pastor. I bet many of us wish the pastor looked a little like us, thought like us, was like us. I can hit it some times but not for everyone, ever.

I think we probably have to listen to each other a little more carefully, work to keep assumptions at bay, and develop trust over time. In preaching I have to try and step outside my usual references to include a variety of generations and both genders (although I stink at sports analogies.) We might think we just walk in the door and are "pastor" but really the whole relationship takes time, experience, and trust. Just like doctors.

References, 11-15 Sermon

2009-11-20T16:03:00.002-06:00

Last week I mentioned two movies in my sermon, so I'll post links to the trailers here.

Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire opened locally (finally) and is showing at the Lagoon and in Brooklyn Center. It introduces Gabourey Sidibe and stars Mo'Nique and Mariah Carey. It is rated R. The StarTribune reviewed it today here.

The other movie, a more mainstream one, is based on the true story of Michael Oher, the star left tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. The Blind Side stars Sandra Bullock, Kathy Bates and Tim McGraw and introduces Quinton Aaron. It opens today and is showing in several theaters and is rated PG-13.

Vanity, Part 3

2009-11-13T21:09:00.003-06:00

The part that has surprised me the most about this vanity project is the response I get from other women. I say something like, "I'm allergic to my hair color and I think I'm going to have to quit." People say,
"Oh no!"
"Surely you can find a different kind of dye."
"You can go somewhere else, can't you?"
"You don't want to do that. You will lose all the volume in your hair."
"You'll have to get a good cut or it will look terrible."
"How bad is the allergy?"
"What color is your hair, anyway?"

And many women grab their own hair as if to say, "Not mine!"

Note I didn't say, "I'm exploring the terrible chemicals in hair dye and think no one should use them." Nor did I say, "I'm feeling it is time for me to buck society's idea of what hair should look like and go natural." Nor did I say, "Anyone who colors their hair is an idiot." (That would be calling the kettle black, or blonde, as it were.)

But still, lots of women get anxious when I say it. Kind of like when you say, "I'm gonna stop eating meat" or something like that. Makes people nervous.

Of course some people have been wonderful and supportive. I've noticed a small group in church slowly moving from blonde to natural shades with gray. I've noticed lots of women look great and have hair that is not chemically altered. I've noticed I don't really notice other women's hair color that much.

And my husband is superb. He tells me I'm lovely every day. I'm not sure when I'll believe him, but it is good to hear.

Anyway I think we are kind of wound up about hair color, we females. A lot of it is the gray issue, which isn't my concern. In fact, for years I've looked forward to being an older woman. I've always imagined I would stop fussing with my hair, I'd throw away the makeup, and be terribly confident and graceful anyway because by then I'd be wise and patient and loving and would be ready to be done with all that.

I'm not gray yet, I think, but I want to get started on this wise and loving part, whatever I look like. And as for everyone else -- do what you want with your hair. If I make any progress on wise and loving I'm not gonna be pointing at your head.

Vanity, Part 2

2009-11-13T14:37:00.003-06:00

So (see previous post) I've been obsessed the last few weeks with researching the chemicals in all the little various bottles cluttering up my bathroom. The StarTribune ran an article a few weeks ago about health concerns in cosmetics, and I ran into an article at Health.com recently which listed common products suspected of increasing the risk of breast cancer, like plastic water bottles, shampoos with parabens, and phthalates.

Most helpfully, Environmental Working Group has a website, Skin Deep, which rates thousands of products on a scale of 0-10, 0 being good and 10 being dangerous. It isn't foolproof, because some items are listed more than once with different scores depending upon how accurately the ingredients were listed. But you can check your shelf of products, see what sort of numbers you are working with, and work to find products that are lower.

I've done this off and on for years, and I try to get all my soaps and stuff below a score of five or so, but then I get amnesia and go buy something with an 8 or something. I love cosmetics gifts bags, and I've trusted Aveda for years. (That's how I ended up coloring my hair again.) I forgot, though, that Horst Rechelbacher sold Aveda to Estee Lauder, and I suspect, but don't know, that the formulas changed. Horst is now working on something called Intelligent Nutrients, obscenely expensive care products that you could eat. (If I want to use the stuff in my kitchen I'll follow the recipes in Annie Berthold Bond's book, Better Basics for the Home.)

I don't know all I'm allergic to: the formeldehyde on new clothes, para-Phenylenediamine (probably), and some other mysterious chemical. So I'm trying to get my product score closer to zero, or at least under 3. Then I'll be exposed to fewer chemicals and perhaps I can save some money, too.

The trick, of course, is not getting amnesia again -- forgetting all about this and succumbing to a cute gift bag in the store, or believing it when someone says I need a little "lift" and telling myself that the chemicals aren't really that bad, or thinking that it must be fine because the government lets the companies sell the stuff after all, even though the FDA doesn't test personal care products. Of course most change for me is cyclical -- a few steps forward, some back, and try again. Here we go.

Vanity, Part 1

2009-11-12T16:30:00.003-06:00

After months of a mysterious allergic reaction I finally pinpointed its source: my hair color. A little research and I think I found the culprit, para-Phenylenediamine. It's a nasty little chemical, present in almost all hair dyes, and has been banned in Europe because of a suggested link to cancer.

I shared this with some friends at lunch one day and one of them smartly said to me, "You bug me about drinking Diet Coke and you put this crap on your head?"

Just in case I didn't catch the point, I had another, unrelated allergic reaction a few weeks ago, and heard the doctor say, "You need to consider your soaps, your hair products, your makeup, and your laundry detergents." Uh, excuse me, but that is a long list of bottles to read the fine print on. Well, why is that such a long list, anyway?

So, besides researching chemicals and hair care and makeup options, I've been facing my vanity pretty directly. I was schooled in vanity as a young girl, and I've worn makeup since I was a teenager and my hair has been chemically altered since about 1980 (except for a two year break during which I got pregnant with Theo, which, now that I think about it, is curious. I mean, I didn't stop dying my hair so I could get pregnant, because I didn't think I could, but I quit dying my hair and awhile later got pregnant. Could be coincidence, but I firmly do not believe I got pregnant because, as so many people helpfully say, I adopted a child and "relaxed.") I've been schooled in vanity, I've been surrounded by vanity in a culture that has a very particular idea of how we females should look and by an industry intent on selling us stuff to achieve that look, I've been encouraged in my vanity by folks who fuss about how I look while I preach, and I've fueled my vanity with fears about how the world will respond to me if it's just me they see.

At the same time I preach the Gospel every week, about how God loves us and how radically this opposes what the world tells us. Spiritually I work at being more and more authentic, whole and healthy and believe that makes me a better pastor, if not person. I love the people in my congregation and in my life and realize that has nothing to do with their hair color, if they are gray yet, or how much makeup they have on their face.

There is a dichotomy here somewhere.

So I'm going to quit putting nasty chemicals on my hair. That means, of course, a difficult transition, because the only way to go from chemical blonde to natural not-quite-blonde is to cut your hair really short, cover it with brown (almost all of which I'm allergic to) or look like a reverse and shaggy skunk. I can use henna, which has unpredictable qualities and is likely to make some of my hair turn coppery. I think I have a few weeks before I'm forced to a decision.

Which should be no big deal. I should be able to change the color of my hair without concern. I should be able to be a coppery redhead for awhile, and then some weird brunette for awhile, and then see how gray my natural not-quite-blonde-not-quite-brown has become in the last several years. But it is a big deal to me, partly because I have to stare down my vanity and my concern about what people will think of me. And, as the helpful young woman at the local co-op who chatted with me about henna said, "It's hard to have a professional look and use henna. It is unpredictable."

I'm a pastor. I've tried to look professional. But I'm not an anchorwoman, I'm clergy. Do I have to look a certain way? Where did I get this idea? Does it help me as a pastor to fit society's idea of what women should look like? Does it matter if my hair is a weird color, or a boring color? Does it matter if I use mascara, or lipstick? Will people hear my sermon better? Or will they hear it better if I am myself, shed of another layer of the fear that is dished out by an anxious culture?

I don't yet know. But we're going to be finding out.

Afton State Park

2009-11-11T21:57:00.005-06:00

Happy Halloween

2009-10-31T20:21:00.000-05:00

Ninja Boy and Dinosaur Cape Guy. Happy Halloween!

Windmills in Storm Lake

2009-10-29T21:40:00.003-05:00

A new, if lame, post

2009-10-29T16:48:00.003-05:00

So I've had some fussing that my blog, which used to get updated almost daily, has sat dormant for a month. Call it major writer's block, too busy, or a shift in schedules -- it just hasn't happened. Zane goes to bed later than he used to, my calendar at church exploded, and I haven't had much to say. Frankly, my camera is more enticing than writing these days, which is a shocking thing to say.

Well, we'll see what happens here.

Theo by The Lake

2009-09-28T11:43:00.006-05:00

Scenes of The Lake

2009-09-28T10:28:00.006-05:00

The Heavens are Telling

2009-09-28T10:15:00.004-05:00

There's a weekend in September when some of my congregation (about 60 folks) go up north. This year we went to Two Harbors and hiked the surrounding trails, ending the weekend with worship by the lake. Even though it rained all the trip up on Friday, we had a dry, cool day hiking and beautiful weather for the service: the rain stopped just before it started and the sun came out during the prayers.

I didn't really hike that much -- I went with the moms with young children. There was one baby, 1 pre-k, and two kindergartners. So we rather ambled, had a lengthy lunch, much time by the lake, and a lot of opportunity to take pictures.

So I'll post several grouping of my photos: the many of Theo by the lake, the artsy lake ones, a few color ones. I have many, many of my church folks but I won't post them in this public place.

It was a good weekend. My kids love this trip. There is hardly anything better for them than being at a hotel with friends, playing in the pool, being surrounded by adults who care for them for several days. Kelly remarked one morning as we all negotiated breakfast, "Our kids are really comfortable with everyone here." It's a good thing. Zane didn't even hike with us -- he negotiated his way into another group, and when Stacey said she'd look after him I knew she would, even down to not letting him get wet at the end of it all. Kelly went with John and Joyce and a large group for a longer hike. And I toodled around with the small ones.

And worship was good. I like informal worship in various settings with lots of group participation, and this was the right situation for it. We shared prayers in a circle, shared our experiences with the sky (riffing off of "the heavens are telling the glory of God,") and shared communion. The wind held off, the rain had stopped, and the sun came out just in the middle of the prayers.

It's good to remember that the body of Christ doesn't necessarily live in a building, all the time.

Friday evening

2009-09-11T20:53:00.000-05:00

6 a.m. in September

2009-09-11T06:41:00.002-05:00

Summer is spinning into fall, both my children are in school, Kelly is teaching morning classes, and I find myself waking up before the dawn after months of leisurely mornings. The darkness is the biggest surprise, even after all these years.

Theo's First Day of Kindergarten

2009-09-10T22:59:00.003-05:00

Theo was outside waiting for me this morning, yelling, "Mama, hurry up, it's time to go to school!" So we were there ten minutes before the doors even opened. He is ready for school.

Zane and Theo a moment before the doors opened to school this morning, and Theo dashed into his classroom without looking back.

First Day of School, Fourth Grade, Zane

2009-09-08T10:11:00.005-05:00

Zane was up at 7 this morning, ready for school. He picked out his own clothes, did his hair, and was ready an hour before we had to leave. Plenty of time to do the traditional first-day-at-school photos.

Here is his "Top Chef" pose.

And a laugh with his little brother, who starts on Thursday.

September Walk by the River

2009-09-04T20:27:00.004-05:00

I've decided to take a picture of the same thing every month in order to see how the setting around changes through the seasons. This is one possibility.

While I was there, someone pointed out this bald eagle in a tree.

I loved this reflection on the Mississippi River. I might consider shooting this each month as well, if I can get to this location without sliding to my demise.

State Fair 2009

2009-09-01T22:32:00.005-05:00

Our friend David had never been to the Fair before, so we escorted him around the food and animals.

Theo had cotton candy. We all had a list of great fair food.

A pony in the Miracle of Life barn.

The Clydesdales waiting in the barn.

The boys are tired, but happy!

Walk in William O'Brien Park with Kelly

2009-08-30T18:15:00.004-05:00

A Nice and Quiet Night for Theo

2009-08-18T22:24:00.003-05:00

"Are there going to be any fire drills?" he asks me.
"No, not tonight."
"Any tornado drills?"
"Nope."
"What about thunderstorms?"
"No, there are no thunderstorms forecast for tonight."
"Will there be any sirens?"
"Only from the fire station down the street."
"They are going far away. I think there is a cat stuck in a tree."
"Yes."
"Are there any emergencies?"
"No, not tonight. I will be in the next room."
"Will it be a nice and quiet night?"
"Yes."

Boys at the Beach

2009-08-12T22:42:00.007-05:00

Beach

2009-08-12T22:16:00.010-05:00

Many shells, after high tide.

A lone shell after high tide.

Sunset on the beach.

The beach on Oak Island.

Zane and I picking up shells on a morning walk.

Sunset on the Intracoastal Waterway, from the deck of the motel.

Our first view of the beach.

Vacation

2009-08-10T21:26:00.009-05:00

I sat on the bench with Kelly watching the moon rise over the intracoastal waters of Oak Island, the boys sleeping in the motel room about fifteen steps behind us, the Atlantic Ocean about 400 steps to the south, and I said, "I don't remember the last time I was so relaxed."

We took our first real family vacation last week. We got on an airplane at 5 a.m. last Monday and flew to Wilmington, North Carolina, then rented a car and drove to the beach. The boys wanted to go to the pool immediately, but we coaxed them onto the beach. When we crossed the walkway and they finally saw it they ran into the surf fully dressed, screaming.

We spent one day in Oriental with a college friend of Kelly's on their family sailboat.

We visited Southport and the ancient Live Oak trees.

But mostly we slept late, took turns walking on the beach, read books (nothing theological), watched too much Disney Channel (Kelly says he will not watch Hannah Montana ever again), swam in the pool and then in the ocean and then back again to the pool. We ate seafood (conch fritters, shrimp, grilled tuna, Calabash coated oysters and scallops) hush puppies, and sno cones. Our favorite restaurant, the Yacht Basin Provision Company, was so busy we had to wait outside on a dock, then huddled inside, in a thunderstorm, for an hour. The boys liked it so much we had to go back.

We hadn't gone on vacation like this before; the boys were too young. But it was time. I wanted us to have time together when I didn't have to say, "I'm too busy, I have to work, I have a meeting." Except at the airport we never had to hurry. And we saw the ocean, as much as we wanted.

I also needed some time away. It is hard to disengage from the church, hard to miss worship in this congregation, hard to miss a memorial service and training events, hard to not check in and make plans for the upcoming months. But even today the boys are adding "thanks for the vacation" to their prayers. And I remembered how to relax a little.

Awaiting

2009-08-01T15:26:00.004-05:00

It's the two year anniversary of the collapse of the I-35 Bridge. When I drove to the Metrodome the other day I saw an odd assortment of debris carefully laid out along the river. I went back today, with Theo in tow, to take some photos of it. I believe these beams are from the bridge that collapsed two years ago; they are just downriver of that site.

The light wasn't right, but here are the photos. I'm struck by how carefully each piece is laid out. They are like puzzle pieces obsessively laid out before reconstruction, or perhaps a set of tools waiting to be used. Actually, they are probably pieces of the body carefully laid out after the autopsy, awaiting understanding.

Play Ball

2009-07-30T10:52:00.005-05:00

Zane had never been to a Twins Game at the Dome. So we went with the United Methodists yesterday. About 40 folks from Fairmount came, and I saw people from several churches there, including my third grade Sunday School teacher (Marcelle) and the parents of my friend Ian (Toby and Marge). The last time I went to a game was with Ian sixteen years ago.

Zane and I got our hotdogs, Cokes and Cracker Jacks and a scorecard and settled in. My Fairmount companions laughed at me trying to keep score. "Do you know how to do that?" I responded, "It's been a long time since I was at a game; I need to pay attention and this will help." So I got a lot of help with all the codes you need to keep track of everything.

Zane wanted to say hi to the Bishop but we didn't see her in the crowd so he asked me to text her and say hi. (Where does he get an idea like that?) So I did, and she invited us to join her for the 7th inning stretch singing on the jumbotron. Zane told all the children in earshot what we were doing so I had five children when we caught up with her. There were too many of us for the event, but as always she was gracious and had all the children gather around her for the singing.

While we were waiting to sing the Twins got what ended up being the winning run, and shortly after we returned to our seats the game ended with a few tense moments -- 2 White Sox on base and 2 outs, then the final fly was caught. On the way out the door Zane and some other boys experienced the huge rush of wind that happens when the Dome doors are opened. It appeared to be as much fun as the game.

Next year the outdoor stadium will be ready, so I may not be back to the large white pillow again. But now Zane can say he was there, and saw a game, and I imagine we will be seeing some more baseball in the future.

A Wide Angle Lens with Boys in Duluth

2009-07-24T22:21:00.005-05:00

We hadn't been to Duluth for a year, and Theo has been announcing that he wants to go. I had a bank account to close and have misplaced his birth certificate (so cavalier with birth children; all Zane's paperwork is duplicated and carefully locked up) so we made a last minute trip today. We lunched with a few folks and then headed out to Canal Park.

I had the wrong filter on, and the sun was bright and hot, but I'm just getting used to my new Tamron wide angle lens. I notice when I use the 10 mm setting the clouds look like pulled taffy. It's almost fish-eye.

But I can still get a decent shot of my son's face.

And we never tire of seeing The Bridge.

A walk in the park with Theo and Kelly

2009-07-18T08:08:00.003-05:00

Knee high by the Fourth of July

2009-07-06T23:05:00.002-05:00

Corn stalks at the end of my parent's driveway, last week.

Transformed David

2009-07-03T15:23:00.003-05:00

We still like stories where the young man wins against all the might and power of evil. I'm studying David and Goliath for Sunday's sermon. And this afternoon I went to Transformers 2 with my brother in law and sister in Albert Lea. (It was either that or The Proposal.) Yes, the movie was long, especially the last hour (it took longer for Sam to travel 2 miles in the movie that hour than it would me on foot in real time.) Yes, it is made for boys, by boys who must have grown up watching cartoons. (The cousins, in protest to us going without them, are watching the animated Transformers on the TV right now.) (Besides all the blowing up, I wouldn't want to explain all the references to boy anatomy in the movie should my children see it.)

But, the boy. The boy is victor against the greatest evil of ancient skies, with nothing but a sock full of hope and love.
And David, the boy, is victor against the giant, with a smooth stone and a slingshot and a heart full of faith.

Yup, the story still has a draw.

Armor

2009-07-03T11:15:00.002-05:00

I'm preaching about David and Goliath this Sunday. Quite a bit of the story is about Goliath's armor, and David's lack of it. So this cartoon caught my eye.

King David

2009-06-29T20:35:00.005-05:00

This summer I decided to preach about King David. I don't think I've ever preached from these stories before. There are some difficulties (like God telling the kings to kill everyone in the countries they invade) but it is such a huge story in the Old Testament, they are interesting to explore.

Yesterday I preached about David's anointing, from 1 Samuel 16. In my sermon I mentioned Susan Boyle's first performance on "Britain's Got Talent". Here she is singing "I Dreamed a Dream." (The point was that appearances aren't always what matters. Susan Boyle showed the world that pretty well.)

I also watched Richard Gere's King David movie, which is surprisingly close to the scripture. It makes the difficulties of the text quite clear, like the commands to kill the women and children of opposing nations, and the prophet being the only one to ever speak for God. We would think that dangerous, now, that only one person could speak for God and no one, not even those designated as having the "heart of God," like David, could decide what God said. But I did like the last line, which is not biblical, when David says to Solomon, "Listen to your heart. That is where God speaks, and not always through the prophets."

Reflections on Tour

2009-06-25T22:09:00.003-05:00

Moments on the youth trip last week:

*Three times the youth had to roll off the bus, set up, change costumes, and perform with about half an hour transition time. (We had some trouble with timing our travel.) They didn't complain, and they performed well. The show just kept getting better.

*While sitting around eating Chinese food with someone's iPod on speakers Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" came on and suddenly everyone in the room was singing it (me included) complete with all the riffs and air guitar. (Journey? Where did that come from?)

*We got on and off the El several times with 27 youth and did not lose anyone. And we did not get lost until we were two blocks from our church at 10 p.m. at a five corner intersection when suddenly my interior GPS called it quits and I had no idea where we were.

*We learned about homeless youth in the Lakeview area of Chicago. The youth were creative and resilient as they spoke about trying to figure out what they would do if they were homeless. I hope they never have to figure it out.

*Parking the bus was amazingly hard, and we got so lucky. Several adults spent the day before we left trying to find a parking place for the big yellow machine with the attached trailer. I finally got permission from the Masonic Hospital in Lincoln Park to park the bus on their construction site. It worked perfectly. I need to send them a thank you note.

*The youth played a game called "Wah" that involved shouting and coordinated rhythms around a circle. I can almost play it. They would play it anywhere, even on a downtown corner of Chicago. We have it on video to prove it.

*No one got sick on the trip. We talked about canceling it because a few people were recovering from the flu ("the" flu, probably) and everyone had been exposed. But we made up our list of precautions and options and contingencies and left and no one got sick.

*We got an amazing amount of work done on the Habitat House. We painted the entire interior of the house, fitted in new electrical outlets, painted two tool sheds, framed a play area, and landscaped one yard. And the youth said they enjoyed the work.

*The Senior Testimonies were moving. Everyone brought in kleenex, so I should have guessed. Some started crying before they even spoke of their years with the Followers, and their love of the youth group, and their hope that future youth will continue to care for one another as they have experienced care.

*The chaperones were amazingly patient. The trip was nine days with no alone time, difficult sleeping conditions, only occasional good coffee, long rides and hard work. They are dedicated adults and parents, generous and kind to all the youth and to one another.

*I got a hard time for not crying at the Senior Testimonies. But the next day when the youth performed their show, "On the Eve of Eden," the tears finally came. I cried for about ten minutes while a few of the seniors grinned at me. The tears came because the "Eve" character was talking about her decision to bite the apple ("the" apple, you know) and her fear that she would not be able to handle the future, along with her desire to know what the future holds for her. Suddenly it hit me -- all the seniors, who have been working on this play about Adam and Eve for months, are about the bite the apple, to leave the paradise of this loving community, to enter the larger world. And so the tears came as I thought of them leaving, and of all that awaits them.

Pranked by the Pastor

2009-06-18T21:18:00.003-05:00

We are working at a Habitat site in Whitestown, Indiana this week, but they can't hold 27 youth so we are rotating 1/3 of the youth out each day. Today was my day off with 9 youth. I let them sleep in and then took them downtown to a mall and a movie.

Then I pulled my prank.

The Followers have a tradition of pranking during their summer trip. I came down really hard on them the second day about the limitations of pranking (like not while people are sleeping...a new rule for them.) I figured I was going to have to pull a prank so they knew I wasn't a total jerk about the whole thing, but that I just want some sensible boundaries on the tradition.

So I asked my cohort today to help me. We went to the grocery store and then to Walgreens and I came back to the church with a bandaged arm in a sling. I whispered the truth to the adults right away and the older boys swear they never believed it, but for about 3 hours many of the youth bought it. And they were very, very sweet to me, which made me feel terribly guilty.

So then I switched arms, and a few of them figured it out. Then I played Ultimate Frisbee, and a few of them still weren't sure. I think by now they all have it.

It's been, oh, 30 years since I did anything like this. I sort of forget how, and I hate lying! And to see how compassionate the kids are, and know I am putting them on...oh, what a tangled web and all. I'd better not get hurt the rest of the trip or they'll never believe it! But I guess I wanted to understand the prank thing better and not just stand crabbily outside of it.

Of course the danger is that now we have three days left and I've asked for it. Stay tuned...

so far...

2009-06-16T20:58:00.002-05:00

We are at Vida Nueva UMC in Indianapolis, settling in. The bus is off to get groceries, and then we will have supper and bed. Tomorrow we make the switch from performing to working. We will be working with Helping Hands and Habitat for Humanity in a commuity north of here a ways.

There isn't enough space at the worksite for all of us so 1/3 of us will be having a lay-low/sighteeing day, rotating each of the next three days.

We have been behind schedule all day today, but everything has worked out well anyway. The Followers performed their show at a camp in Indiana today for over 100 campers. It was a good performance, even though everyone was tired and hungry and we had to load up in the pouring rain and then unhook the trailer and turn the bus around.

The youth have been in pretty good spirits no matter what has happened. They find amusement easily wherever we are. We are waiting on devotions and supper right now and everyone is pretty happily engaged. There are two card games going on right now and a bb game downstairs and several groups chatting in various corners. I think I'm crabbier than all of them -- I am tired. I'm hoping for closer to 8 hours of sleep tonight. (A girl can dream...)

Our day in Chicago went well. We got 27 youth on and off the el several times and didn't lose anyone. We divided into several groups (1 chaperone and a handful of youth) and each went our way around downtown. My group enjoyed stuffed pizza then wandered around State Street, Michigan Avenue, and Millenium Park. We say Ellen DeGeneres yesterday (I didn't have my camera out of my bag so I missed gtting her picture.)

After our adventures downtown we went to the Night Ministry in the Lakeview neighborhood and learned about homeless youth. Evidently the neighborhood is home to a lot of homeless youth, partly because it is welcoming to glbt youth. We walked around the neighborhood in small groups with a chaperone and made observations about how we might try to manage being homeless: where could we go to the bathroom, to sleep, where could we get food, what would we do all day. It was eye-opening. Then we rode the el back to the church and ended the night with a labyrinth walk (this after about 8 miles on foot) and devotions.

Each performance has gone well. Everything I have worried about has pretty much worked out. We were worried last week about the youth that were sick, wondering if we were going to have an epidemic of H1N1 on this trip. So far, no one is sick.

I'm too tired to say anything clever. Let me just say all is well, and I'll try to put up some pictures soon.

Anchors Away

2009-06-12T08:15:00.005-05:00

I'm leaving with 27 youth and several adults tomorrow for the summer Tour/Mission Trip. I'm excited to be with the group and we have a great schedule lined up. The hardest part is leaving my little boys for nine days. Sleeping on the floor for eight nights comes a distant second for hardest part. (And now that I've made that joke about the hard floor, let me add for my husband who has pointed out three times now that I didn't mention him that, of course, being away means being away from him as well, which has made traveling difficult for me for, in about 2 more weeks, 14 years now.)

I didn't go away very much the first several years of motherhood, three nights at Annual Conference and the occasional continuing education event. But they are nine and almost six, and when I did this last year we got through it okay.

One thing I do is prepare a little gift bag for each day I am gone, mostly small gifts with one or two larger ones. The boys remember this and have been asking me which days they get one, when it starts, and have I gotten everything I need for the bags yet? Zane asked if they got a bag for the day I came home and I said no. "Oh, you are the gift that day," he said. He is smooth.

And last night after an ice cream trip to Izzy's we had a sleepover on the living room floor (as if I won't have enough floor sleeping), me in the middle, Zane and Theo on each side grunting and stealing the blankets, the cats wandering about on top of us, and the dog checking on us each time we moved around too much. Miraculously we did get some sleep.

We may have some fussing yet today, all of us, but I think we're ready. It is strange to live life with this powerful tether -- wherever I am, whatever I am doing, there are these boys (big and small) anchoring me to a particular spot, which is wherever they happen to be.

Last Day of School 2009

2009-06-09T10:12:00.003-05:00

6.9.09
they are getting taller, as they will...

here is 9.09...

Grand Old Days

2009-06-07T22:21:00.004-05:00

After church today I took the boys to Grand Old Days, a local, annual street fair. (We always miss the parade -- it is right during worship.) The kid's section is a few blocks from our house so we headed over this chilly, damp afternoon.

Zane likes the games, so he tosses balls and bean bags and collects pockets full of cheap toys. He had his fingers stuck most of the afternoon.

Theo prefers the physical activities, so he bounced and jumped and went down slides.

The best part for him was when some of the youth from church showed up and went down the slide with him. They had to go back up to rescue his socks, which he inexplicably removed at the top.

Cheese curds for one and ice cream for another filled out the afternoon. We dragged home, slowly.

To tweet

2009-06-05T07:58:00.003-05:00

OK, so the blog has been slow. Could I have run out of things to say after 635 posts in 3 years? Have I been too busy? It isn't Facebook, I promise.

Well, maybe just a pause.

Anyway, I have signed up for Twitter -- I don't intend to Twitter regularly, but it seems the easiest way for me to update the congregation from my phone while on the road with the Followers (my youth group) next week. I may or may not have a laptop with me to upload pictures but I will be able to post 140 character updates on the latest adventure on the singing/building trip to Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana and Iowa.

You can find it there on the right side of the screen. You can sign up to follow it -- I don't understand that yet. I'll be testing to make sure it works but I'll be with 27 tech-savvy teenagers who will know how this works. (I said, "electronics policy" to them last night and they gasped!)

Helmer Myre

2009-05-25T22:30:00.006-05:00

Yesterday we went to Helmer Myre State Park in Albert Lea. Actually, it is now called Myre-Big Island because Minnesota has made the decision to rename all the state parks something less unique than some great citizen from decades ago. Helmer's great-niece is a member of my congregation and I called the park Helmer Myre for years so Helmer Myre it stays. (I still call Macy's, or whatever it is now, Dayton's.)

We walked, Kelly and boys and my mom and I, around the main trail. I argued with Kelly about it quite awhile, because, although I remember it being a reasonable trail, the map showed it was 10 miles long. I didn't even pack water bottles and it was close to supper time. "This isn't going to work," I told Kelly. He took me to the map and quietly pointed out the decimal in front of the mile markers. I'd been adding up 3 miles to an inch, instead of .3. Guess I'd better make that eye appointment.

Here are some jack in the pulpits. You are supposed to think about clergy, I guess, but I doubt that is really what comes to mind. They are rather dramatic.

The weather was more perfect than was possible, we didn't get lost or tired, and we didn't even get any ticks. Helmer Myre just off I-35. Check it out.

What happened

2009-05-22T23:51:00.001-05:00

to all the coffeehouses in Uptown?

There are about 11 within a mile of here, in St. Paul, but we could not find one in Uptown, Minneapolis this evening. Has Uptown changed that much or has the canary of coffeehousing sung?

The Organ Chamber

2009-04-30T15:51:00.008-05:00

In most of my years as a pastor I've worked inside church buildings. Spending hours each day inside these intricate and labyrinthian buildings I've found a way to get into the corners and crevices of each one. In Winona I visited the bell tower and had a habit of taking the confirmation class up to sit on the bells in their last class session. We climbed the circular staircase, up the wooden ladders, past the bats, and out into the open air where the bells -- who survived a fire decades ago by being coated with water which froze -- rested. (I made sure no one was scheduled to ring them at that time.) This now seems like foolish thing to do, but I think it was a highlight for all of us. (This was the time of my life when I climbed Sugar Loaf freehand, too.)

At Centennial I wandered through the construction project at night with my colleague, checking everything out. And when I discovered the Boy Scouts on the roof I surprised them by joining them.

At Hope I found my way up the ladders and into the hidden storage room, into the off-limits elevator control room, and, when the roofers invited me to inspect the water damage on top of the roof, I scurried up the ladders and peered into the sanctuary from the skylight.

And today, at Fairmount, I got to climb into the organ chamber. Steve is refitting the organ with a new switching system, a project taking much longer than he expected. But he invited me and my camera in to see the mess. It was very dark, but here are some of my photos:

This is the back of the console, where the key hammers connect to the first of the wires.

Here are some of the pipes in the lower level of the organ chamber. I climbed into the second level, but it was so dark my flash just bounced off the pipes. However, there are long pipes and rows and rows of tiny ones up there behind the screen.

This looks like a mother board. It's inside the organ chamber. I don't know what it does, but Steve knows.

This is a macro shot of one of those little hammer thingys.

And a macro of the intricate wiring mechanism.

And the inside of the organ console.

These are details. When all the wires are connected, all the hammers working, all the pipes singing, it is an amazing instrument that fills our sanctuary with joyful sound.

Resurrecting the Roses

2009-04-27T22:03:00.003-05:00

Every fall (October 22, it is) I bury my roses (now that I know better.) Then on April 22 (or thereabouts) they come up. I have help, from a surgeon, burying them, but I brought them up myself this year. It is frightening, trying to change the direction of the bush from horizontal to vertical. I think one limb is damaged, but most of the five are going to make it.

This one couldn't even wait. Small leaves were curling out of crevices in the ground.

Easter Wordle

2009-04-12T07:27:00.000-05:00

A wordle for my Easter sermon may be found here. The blessings of Easter to you all.

Easter Lily

2009-04-11T21:14:00.005-05:00

This year instead of using the stock lily bulletin paper you can buy for Easter services Sharon asked me to photograph some lilies for to make our own cover. I took about 40 shots and came up with several I liked. Finding a blooming lily three weeks before Easter was the hard part, but Como Conservatory came through again.

We decided on this last one. It has some motion, and the light makes me think of the resurrection, coming out of the dark center of the bloom.

Stone Soup

2009-04-10T14:55:00.005-05:00

My congregation begins its observance of Maundy Thursday with a Stone Soup dinner. Last year, my first in this congregation, I decided to follow the congregation's traditions for the first year to see how they worked, and then to think about making changes. (I did add a Way of the Cross walk for Good Friday, and I did rework the Tenebrae a bit.) I didn't get Stone Soup at all.

Footwashing, communion, tenebrae -- these are all traditional Maundy Thursday observances. Stone Soup is a nice folk tale, a good story of community and the abundance of gifts, but I didn't quite see how it fit with Maundy Thursday.

The first year at a new congregation is a whirlwind. During Holy Week last year I was trying to take in so many details and worrying about how it would all go; I'm not sure I really took it all in. I didn't even write myself notes for the next year's planning, something I always do.

This year I decided to continue with tradition again. But I made one change; instead of reading Stone Soup during the meal to everyone over the microphone I asked each table to tell the Stone Soup story itself. I took a version of the traditional tale, rewrote it a bit, printed it on cardstock and put a copy on each table. Then I asked the eldest person at each table to read it.

I ate my soup (there were three kinds -- beef, chicken noodle, and a vegetarian) and bread. I noticed, perhaps for the first time, the lovely tureens that held the soup, a bargain find from someone on the worship committee for just this purpose. I saw the pottery plates and chalices, commissioned for just this annual event, gracing each table. I looked around at all the different generations of people sharing this meal together.

Then the eldest at my table picked up the story and began to read it. It is a familiar story. I read it as a child and I crafted this particular version. But I have to admit I got caught up in it, listening to Bill's voice, how the villagers found a bit of food to share together, and how it turned into a lovely meal. There were a few moments when I was lifted out of my worry over details, when I was transported to some other place.

Then we continued with the rest of the evening: communion around each table, processing to the sanctuary, sharing the Service of Tenebrae (shadows).

I still can't quite say what Stone Soup has to do with Maundy Thursday. Since it isn't appropriate to share a seder together as Christians (that's another conversation) it serves as a good community meal on a night where food is foundational. But last night I was glad I had the sense to experience the congregation's traditions before suggesting we change them. The surprisingly delightful community meal, made out of an sometimes-hoarded but now-released part of ourselves, says a lot about what it means to worship together, to be church together, and how this particular congregation lives together.

I did ask about footwashing. Someone said, "What is it with you clergy and footwashing?" I don't know. But I've made my planning notes for next year. I'll be planning on Stone Soup.

Isn't Easter Yet...

2009-04-08T21:19:00.003-05:00

Wednesday of Holy Week.
I had the youth act out the passion narrative from the Gospel of Mark tonight. They seemed to enjoy the detail of the young man running away naked, and went for a little less than realism at that point (they also held back on the beatings and crucifixion.) One said, "Not the most cheerful story, Michelle," but that is the point of it, I suppose.

Spent all day fussing over the details of the bulletins for the rest of the week, and of the services. Changed my mind over the scripture to use for Sunday. It was suddenly clear that, much as I love the Gospel of Mark's version of the resurrection, John is called for this time. My sermon suddenly seems possible, if not riveting (I have a few days to get to riveting.)

After a full day and full night I slipped next door with my boys to put them to bed, reading a book about a man trying to trap and kill a beloved squirrel and another about the eating habits of sharks (am I worried about the violence of the passion narrative? Kids know this stuff) and then sang songs and had prayers. Then I went back next door where the sanctuary was all ablaze to go over the Tenebrae service details with Rich.

I walked in just as the brass was practicing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today." It's a few days early, really, I thought. But then the choir processed in, walking very carefully in their Wednesday night clothes. I sang along from the back of the sanctuary (who can resist?) Then Steve pulled out "The Hallelujah Chorus" and the sopranos waved me up so I joined them, standing behind the trumpets, straining to hit the A.

The moon is full, the night is almost warm, the air is fresh, and there is nothing like singing "The Hallelujah Chorus." It isn't Easter yet, but I can smell it.

Vacation

2009-03-31T08:23:00.003-05:00

I took about eight days vacation, partly at home, a few days at family in Iowa. I usually have a long list of tasks I want to accomplish during vacation, but I put my to-do list away and didn't do much. I took a bunch of pictures, organized some writing, learned how to salsa dance, went to the doctor. Read a mystery and some magazines.

Besides putting my to-do list away, I turned off my cell phone for the entire time, turned it off and put it in a drawer. There were several times I wanted to use it but I kept it off. It definitely signaled "not working right now" to me. And I didn't turn on my work email (except for the first day when I had something to finish.)

I felt the addiction of the computer and phone most of the week. I checked my Facebook page far too often just for something to do. I'm so used to messages popping up every 30 minutes or so, or the phone ringing. It is hard to step away.

But I'm thinking maybe I don't have to wait for vacation to keep practicing this -- perhaps I'll put the phone in the drawer more often, set aside the email when I come home. Maybe...

The Way of Light: Sermon Supplementals

2009-03-22T07:52:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry -- I'll be preaching a little about photography again. It's the Gospel of John and "the light has come into the world" and there's hardly any better way to talk about light than photography! At least I have been paying much more attention to light since I have become so interested in taking pictures.

So here, again, is a photo that shows what light can do.

And then a few links for things I'll be talking about:

Frederick Buechner has written a lovely essay about wholeness here.

And I'll also mention the spiritual practice of Ignatius' Examen.

Spiritual Practices for Lent: Silence

2009-03-15T19:25:00.001-05:00

Nurture your spirit in silence for the days of Lent:

Practice 20 minutes of Centering Prayer (silent meditation) in the morning, or with others at 6:30 p.m. Mondays in the sanctuary at Fairmount Ave UMC

Take a walk and pay attention to what you see and what you hear, and what God is saying

Find a labyrinth and walk it silently (I've linked to ones within five miles of the congregation)

Spiritual Practices for Lent: Devotional Reading

2009-03-12T16:36:00.002-05:00

I'm using the theme "Digging Down Deep" for Lent, looking at gardening images as they relate to the life of spiritual growth. So each week I'm including a bookmark with some suggested spiritual practices. I'm going to include here, and in a few other posts, supplemental resources for the ideas:

Devotional Reading: Nurture your spirit with daily reading for the forty days of Lent

Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter published by Orbis Books

Forty Days to a Closer Walk with God: The Practice of Centering Prayer by J. David Muyskens, Upper Room

Growing God: A Guide for Spiritual Gardeners by Kerry Walters

The Rising by Wendy Wright

Palimpsest: readings and daily scriptures found in worship at Fairmount Avenue UMC

Daily readings at upperroom.org/daily

Flowers before the storm

2009-03-11T21:35:00.006-05:00

I spent some time with a friend and a camera at the Como Conservatory Monday morning. It is warm, humid, and green there. Very welcome before the icy gray wintry blast we received yesterday.

Wordle sermon

2009-03-08T07:22:00.002-05:00

I put the text of my sermon into Wordle today. You can see it here. Perhaps it will have more coherence when I preach it today, but what an interesting look at the words I am using!

Echoes

2009-03-04T07:05:00.004-06:00

Last night some one said, looking at my profile, that I looked like Theo. "Not that Theo looks like you, but that you look like Theo," she said.

Yesterday morning I had an ultrasound (the first of tests to determine the all-important question of why I cannot drink coffee anymore, nor eat chocolate) and the technician asked me if I'd had one before. I said, yes, six years ago, when pregnant with my son, and I was sure she had done it. We checked dates and agreed that was so. (She has an eastern European accent that makes her memorable.) So after my test I hauled out pictures of both my sons. I told her that, when Theo was born, he looked so familiar to me I wondered if I wasn't recognizing him from the ultrasound profile picture.

I spent the day yesterday with my mother. I always think of her as being in her mid-40's, which is impossible since that is my age. When I look at my hands now I see her hands. I am, now, instead of seeing my father's features, beginning to see the lines of her face as it has aged in my own mirror.

I don't know if I recognized Theo immediately from his ultrasound picture or from the echoes of my own face in his. Or, perhaps, from the echoes of the man I've sat across the table from for many years now, flitting across Theo's features. It is a strange thing about birth families, these shifting resemblances, reminders of where we came from and who we are connected to.

I have an adopted son as well. His beautiful face does not remind me of my own; his face is an echo of people I may never meet. He will not have the same experience of looking at my face and being reminded of how he will age. Our genetic relationship is more distant.

But it is still there. Kelly told me the other night that we are all related, twelve generations back. Adoption makes that seem quite real -- the connections of genetics one generation removed provide us with delightful, irritating, and haunting reminders of our connections, but we are all related, connected, in many ways, at the root of it all. Agreeing to be the parent of someone not specifically from your body means living out both the ways we are different, as people, and the ways we are the same. A child needs love, care, shelter, and the response of -- if not a face that looks like theirs -- one that has memorized their every contour and lights up when it sees them.

Technical difficulties

2009-03-04T06:39:00.000-06:00

My blog seems to have disappeared -- I'll investigate and see where it went. Back soon!

Ash Wednesday

2009-03-02T22:29:00.003-06:00

Last Wednesday I imposed ashes on many of my colleagues. It was my turn to lead the clergy service which meant I got to hold the small bowl of burnt palms and smudge the foreheads of retired pastors, active clergy, colleagues, friends. It is such a tender thing to do, pressing ash into the print of my finger to press onto another's skin, saying those words, "Remember, from dust you came, and to dust you shall return." So strange, to offer a remembrance of death, of our created place in the universe, of the carbon matter with which our cells are held together, and to have it feel like a blessing.

And then in the evening, to offer the same ashen mark on my congregation. To handle that which is left after fire has cooled and feel in it hope of new growth, to mark adults and children and invite them to not be afraid, to claim this promise that resurrection comes, after. To remember we are created from the ashes of stars and we will return to nurture the ground one day, to remember there is peace in that. It's a truth we don't often speak out loud, though it follows us like a shadow. But there is one day we say it and wear it -- we know something of death and yet we know something of life. We choose to live in hope, in the midst of it all.

Palm branches

2009-02-21T18:14:00.006-06:00

I am getting ready to burn last year's palm branches for this week's ashes.

After the bloom fades

2009-02-21T18:05:00.004-06:00

The amaryllis, my first of the season, has faded. It still has some beauty to share.

Wallking in the neighborhood - 3

2009-02-17T07:18:00.002-06:00

A lemon slice of a moon fades in the southern sky while color leaks from the east.
Crows and chickadees begin the conversation.
Stumps of snowmen and a still waving Santa greet me.
A taxi honks lightly.
Three houses in a row post placards of peace.
A shelf of Americana birdhouses wait.
I remember to fill my bird feeder.