M.E. and Remembering what I Forgot and The Impossible

Today (day 2) M.E. writes, "One of the great sorrows which came to human beings when Adam and Eve left the Garden was the loss of memory, memory of all that God's children are meant to be."

In the following questions we are asked to ponder the impossible we have to do in life and when God enabled us as well as how we know our will is one with God's as we ask in the Lord's Prayer.  For a moment I was stymied.  I don't recall doing anything I thought was impossible.  Does that mean I don't accept challenges from God?  Am I that chicken and don't hear God?  Then I realized. Hello?  I am in seminary.  A place I never thought I would be.  Then I realized, it is time to share some of how I ended up here.

You see, for many years I was interested in pursuing politics as a profession.  When I was looking to join the Air Force, I wanted to go in to be a political spin person, like Olivia Pope in ABC's Scandal.  I wanted to be the one who helped turn what didn't look so good or was dangerous for the American public to know into something innocuous and insignificant.  For years! In Savannah, I even had a wealthy gentleman from church tell me he would fund my first run for the Chatham County School Board (talk about a political good old boy system!).  That would have been my first 'in'.  But we moved.

In New Jersey I watched my Great Aunt Ruth die of cancer and in those drives to visit with her I had a lot of time to think and pray.  I also had a pastor, Dave, who was convinced I was supposed to be in seminary when I was thinking it was my husband who was supposed to go.  By the time I watched those shovels pour dirt onto Aunt Ruth's casket, I knew where God was calling me and it was not Politics.  A little sad, I gave up that dream and began discerning a call to ministry.

When Lance asked me recently if this made me happy to be in seminary and if being a pastor would make me happy I had to answer yes and no.  It made me sad at first and that was the no.  But I told him I could be very content being a pastor and that was even better.  He replied he did not want me content but I explained to him that this was a far better happiness.  See, deep down inside, what I want more than I wanted a career in politics was to follow God's will for my life.  In giving up politics and following a call to ministry, I am not doing something I do not want to do.  I do want to do it.  Better yet, is the knowledge that God wants me to do it and that brings a peace and joy so deep down in my soul I cannot express it thoroughly enough.  So more than politics, I want to be a Pastor, because God has called me to that and is equipping me for that life.  In a way, this is my 'impossible' scenario.  I know I would be a rotten pastor on my own.  But God is giving me all the gifts and skills I need to do God's will.  In that then, I am pursuing my dream and achieving the impossible WITH God.

Oddly enough, a few years ago I helped get the walk on Washington and annual Press Conference on the Capital lawn off the ground.  Talk about political.  I had to call all the secretaries of all the US Representatives and Congress to see if I could send an invite to them to speak at this instead of the 9/11 10th anniversary event the next day in NYC.  If you think anything is impossible, ask for a representatives personal schedulers email!  Easier to get the rep's email but not as effective.  I managed the over 200 calls over the weekend for those who would speak to me.  By the time all was said and done though, I was wiped out and ready to cry.  By the time I opened our press conference on the lawn I was so done with politics that I think I still have post traumatic stress over it.  In those moments of clarity, I realized, God had blessed me with that side job as I was entering into seminary that coming fall .  It let me see that the dream I had for myself was not at all what I thought and it reassured me that my will now is in line with God's will.  Talk about doing the impossible again... but only WITH  God, not on my own.

I may not recall too many impossibles in my life, but I think that is because I have learned to forget that I am alone.  God is with me, walking beside me, carrying me when I am weak or unable and that, that is what I am remembering that I forgot in the Garden.  

Madeleine L'Engle and Pastoral & Family Care

I am engaging a 40 day journey with my favorite author of all time, Madeleine L'Engle.  You may know her from her "Wrinkle In Time" books.  As I journey through this study, I thought I might share some thoughts that pop up.  You will find me referring to her as "M.E.".  Here goes~

I read a new definition for the word agape today.  It spoke of a love that does not seek control, thanks or enjoyment- just loves.  M.E. said it taught her "not only about forgiveness but about how to hope to give guidance without manipulation."

This kind of love never excludes.  She mentions the weak or old or enemy, but it went so much deeper for me.  It was about control.  It is easier for me to relinquish controlling those I do not like or spend time with by choice.  It is far more difficult to imagine not controlling those dear to me.

I am a control freak by nature.  I would make a horrible drug addict because I cannot stand the feeling that I have no control when I am on pain meds.  I can only imagine it is like that a million times over to be a drug user or addict.  Did you ever think you might find a situation where someone using drugs might be preferable?  Well, there it is.

My need for control steps over into every area of my life.  I want my kids to have perfect hair and skin or at least not to embarrass me in public... or what I imagine others might think about them and then me.  How very selfish.  How unloving.  I want my husband to act and be a gentleman all the time, the perfect suitor.   How very selfish and unloving.  I want others to like me, to find me enchanting and funny, smart and witty, passionate and inspiring.  How very un-agape of me.  In those moments, it is about me.  It is not as M.E. described at all.  It is a love that seeks control, thanks or enjoyment at every turn and is exactly the opposite of the love that Christ seeks in us.

I cannot control those around me and if I were really honest deep down inside, I don't want to because then I would know the results are false positives.  I don't want to control my God either, then I know that it is about me and the promise of forgiveness and salvation then rely on my works, my thoughts, my needs as opposed to the work of the Spirit and Christ on the cross.

I would lose so much in that control.  I would lose a promise that I glimpse every so often.  One that does not ignore my ineptitude or vile selfishness.  Instead it is a promise that lives on in spite of these.  That gives in spite of these.  It forgives my controlling need and leaves a place for me that does not need me to be any of those things I want others to think about me.

As I ponder the lessons of my Pastoral Care class from June, I cannot help but apply them to this concept.  As I seek to support, guide or honor those around me, I cannot in any way expect control. In fact, I will more than likely find myself regularly in the deep end with no sense of control whatsoever.  It is there, in that murky cold and scary water that I will find myself the most accurate.  How I respond then, how I give up the right to control and allow God to move and protect and save will be the life or death of me as a shepherd.

Right now though, it starts at home.  With the little things.  With the ones I love, but may not agape very well.  Today, I learn to live in agape.

He was Just an ICE man.

“He was just an iceman”

When George Marion Mason died in the mid 1940’s  the crowd spilled out onto the street in front of the mortuary.  When they drove to the cemetery, there were over 150 cars in the processional and at least that many at the cemetery when they arrived too. 

Worth was a young man among those mourning and he was asked by a stranger passing by, “who died?”

To which he answered, “Uncle Fats.”  The stranger continued, well who was he?  Was he rich?  Was he a senator or a movie star? He must have been important!” 

Young worth answered simply, “he was just an iceman.”

Later, Worth heard a quote that he connected to Uncle Fats,  even to this day.  “It is nice to be important, it is more important to be nice.”

How was it so many people came to mourn his passing?  Uncle Fats was in the ice delivery business.  He was neither wealthy nor famous. He worked hard every day, bearing massive and heavy blocks of ice to house after house.  But uncle Fats chose to be in a different business too- one that did not earn him a paycheck but did earn him respect.  He was in the soul business.  He asked after them and invited into kitchens all over San Diego, this man became like family to each household.    He cared about people. 

We are getting close to the elections and of course, I cannot resist the fodder for a sermon.  You didn’t think you would get through without some reference did you? 

Politics are unavoidable.  Even then, in a room with Jesus, James and John were making a political play for power. They knew how things worked in this world and they knew they needed to get the vote early on. And of course the other disciples got riled up. If they were all focused on the real purpose of being there none of them would have gotten upset, but we see that every one of them did. They ALL had politics on their minds too. 

Jesus takes this moment though to remind them that this fame has a price. This political office they yearn for is going to cost them everything and will be nothing like they can imagine.

The book of Mark doesn’t have the beatitudes listed, but we can take a moment to pick them up and look them over again.  What if we were to put  these into the light here with this reading? When we read them it occurs to many that this is a list of the ideal long suffering servant. 

The Beatitudes are more than a list of honey-do’s from Jesus.  They are an application to our hearts, to do more than feed the body of the poor, to protect more than the body of an orphan or widow.  No, we are called to serve not just the product here of faith and Christian life, but we are called to serve their hearts.

How do we take this lesson then and apply it Uncle Fats style?  Does it have relevance to us not only as individuals but as a whole?  Of course. 

The relevance is that Uncle Fats brought the product to the people where they were.  He did not meet them half way, he went the whole way.  He met them on their terms and he was consistent.  You might argue he had to do that for his work.  But he only had to deliver ice consistently.  If ice men were all buried the way he was more people might have been clamoring to be one.  He was the epitome of a servant, because he served more than the product, he served the spirit of each customer too. 

Uncle fats went further and gave of himself in true servant fashion even when he did not have to. 

Just because we cannot expect secular society to be held to Christian standards does not mean we cannot or need not hold ourselves to those standards.  Just as Uncle Fats took his caring of people to work with him, we can do the same in our lives.  What would the church look like if we really saw every person in our paths and “cared” for them?  What if the words of “how are you” were really asking and wanted the true answer, not the polite one?

In law, when speaking of federal and state law there is terminology that applies here.  You can always add to Federal law with state law, but you can NEVER take away from Federal law by state law.  Jesus has given us instructions- and he is encouraging us to do more than the basics, to add to the law by action of our hearts and minds, just as he did. He did not want blind or thoughtless action, he wanted and still wants, our hearts.

This is relevant now because we as a body must learn a new way to meet the people where they are.  Last Sunday we had evening service out front because people brought animals.   We did not expect them to be in the sanctuary- it was not reasonable and I think the custodian would have had our heads.  Instead, the service was brought to us outside- to where we needed to be.   If we had called people to do this service inside, the animals, for whom the service was as well, would not be able to join us comfortably.  Isn’t that why some people don’t come to church now? 

Now I am not calling us to stop service in the building- please let me be clear on that one.  But I am calling us to consider how to take the BODY of Christ, which is the true church, with us in our everyday and fully be the servant we are called to be.  Let’s recall our baptism and the cross in mundane moments and share those.  It is not easy- it will not be easy.  That is exactly what Jesus told them- that cup to drink, it will carry bitterness and sorrow. 

Uncle Fats could have just been a nice guy but I don’t think people would have lined up like that were he not serving more than their ice each time he trudged into their kitchen. 

 Delivering the word of Christ is more than a physical act, We as the bride of Christ are in the business of serving the spirit in a way where we bare who we are in order to let Christ shine through.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

How I met Lance

So I am at this fundraiser for our youth group in Germany. We are hosting a Mexican dinner and it is near the end and we are done serving so we all sit down to eat and watch the slides from the last trip (to Spain). I am 16 and with all my friends...and I see this guy sitting all alone at the end of the long table. So, being the outgoing person that I am who needs to make others feel connected... I scooch down the table and invite him to join my friends and I.

Turns out he almost didn't come to the dinner. He bought tickets at the PX(like a walmart on Army posts)and then his friends blew it off. Well he decided to come after all.

He stayed and helped us clean up and then afterward we stood outside looking at the stars while i waited for my ride. We talked about his hometown in Michigan and I knew I was in love with him that night. There was no doubt.

I invited him to join me at church the next day... and he did. I was so glad! After service we would walk across the street to the burger bar and sit and talk for hours. That is what our courtship consisted of. He became my best friend first. I didn't think I stood a chance with him so I never told him I loved him. Then I went out with another guy and the look on Lances face told me I had a shot! I dumped that other guy soooo fast.

So Lance was a new soldier at his first duty station and home sick. We would sit outside the main gate waiting for the bus and talk about home- our home that we would have someday. He told me he loved me and we talked about our future together and he had not even french kissed me! Talk about respect!

The first time we went on a real date we walked downtown with my friend and her boyfriend (also a soldier) to get spaghetti eis ( a German ice cream that looks like spaghetti). While there he held my hand for the first time. I also tried to show off my vocabulary. He made some comment about something that was obvious and I said, " my aren't we astute?" He dropped my hand and stopped walking and asked, incredulous, " I'm a what???" We still laugh to this day! So much for showing off and impressing him- he thought I was calling him names!

Next blog will be about how we lost each other and found each other again- titled My Life: Lost and Found

Why so many Christmas Cards?

My beloved looked at me like I had turned into a hoarder. 

I have over 400 blank cards ready to be addressed and sent this year as soon as the Calendar says November 20.

I know there must be shock on your faces too.  But my Christmas cards serve as far more than a holiday greeting and newsletter.  They let people know where we are.  They keep us in contact with previous co-workers, church congregations, sports team members, landlords, you name it.

Mind you, I don't do it for anyone and everyone. But there are those in our life that we do not want to lose the wispy connection that remains as time goes on.   We never know when we may return to an area.  We never know when they may want to come visit!

This is my facebook/myspace/twitter alternative that reaches everyone- because not everyone we love has a fb account either.

Then there is something to be said about the joy of getting a hand addressed piece of mail... it is a warm, comforting feeling.  No label- just a hand that once shook or held yours that took the time to WRITE your name and address and let you know they are thinking of you.

So I do not always send that many- but I rarely have a list smaller than 150.   This year, with a cross country move and a failure to send to everyone for 3 years now, I have a duty to send to everyone.   It is my biggest priority. I didn't send change of address out so I really have no choice .... besides, I like getting them too!

Crossing the Mojave

Also known to my son Graham as the MO- Jayv  rather than Mo-Ha-Vey desert.  The interstate that transects it is a daunting road to drive.

On our recent move to Los Angeles California, we came in via I-40, which crosses the Mojave Desert.  This is not country to mess around in.  You better have a plan before you cross it.  Which we apparently did not, and we are darn lucky to be here talking about it no worse the wear.

My first words of advice are:  Trust your GUT.   If you think you should get a bit more gas before traversing this barren (but God blessed and painted)land, then you better dagon listen up!

I did not realize we needed more gas.  I got in to drive just before the California border, to drive my family to their new state by the mama born there.  I didn't pay much attention to the gas because I was hell bent on getting us to the border before the last wisps of evening sunset were blackened out by the night. I needed them to see California as they entered it. 

So we crossed and I was thrilled.  And then we passed the sign that said "Next Services 53 miles."  As I passed the exit, I looked down and to my dismay, I was less than a quarter tank full. Now mind you, with the speed limit at 75 and a late hour,  the day  and trip long, we just wanted to get to our destination.

I was doing about 80 (slower than most traffic by far).  Yup.  Looking like the Clampets headed to Beverly Hills, we were loaded up.  The winds were whipping and it did not take but a few miles for me to start doing math.  Our car says that it has 2 gallons left once the light comes on for gas.  I figured I probably had at least 20 miles left before that would happen so we were going to be fine.  I was not considering the speed nor the wind resistance.  Within a couple more minutes the light came on. 

Mmm hmm.  Crap.   It's okay, you can say it.

As the numbers figured in my head,  I thought about reducing speed but didn't.  Yet.  After about 10 miles, as the gas gauge was now firmly in the red, almost level with the empty line, I knew I had to do something.  So, down it went.... to 55.  Now I was simply drawing out the misery and inevitable and trying not to hum "I can't drive 55!"

It was pitch black, the only lights were the those of cars in the distance heading away or ahead of us.  Like a spotlight, the shone against the deepest black you have ever seen.  No  moon.  The stars were amazing!

As we rounded a curve or peaked a rise I would think, surely this one will show the gas station.  But to my dismay, it did not- and we would view a valley or canyon ahead of us that was many miles wide, cavernous and black as pitch.  

Neither Lance nor I spoke a single word. The children, silent or sleeping only added to the deafening awareness that we were highly likely to run out of gas in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night. 

Now, you are thinking how hot a desert is unless you grew up around them.  In the winter, the desert can get snow. It gets COLD. Really Really cold. Snow Cold.  Hypothermia Cold.  And we had not packed any winter coats with us.  Not one.

I was beginning to wonder if AAA would bring gas out there.

Rise after rise, I would hold my breath, then let it out in a silent long sigh as yet again, no lights were seen.  The needle had now fallen well below the empty line.  I am pretty sure it was now indicating 'Hell', not 'empty'.

In my head I was like a teeter totter.  One minute I was claiming that there was going to be enough- just like the oil in the lamp, which many now celebrate as Hanukkah, surely God would make sure there was enough in our tank. Then the other voice spoke up and it went something like this: You DUMB broad!!!  Do you really think you can compare being stupid and forgetting gas with being trapped in the temple in battle and insufficient oil?  You will be damn lucky if you coast in on fumes.

I would respond with simply begging.  Dear God, please let there be enough.  I know we screwed up... but please. please, let there be enough.

And then it happened.  We topped a peak and there in the distance were lights that were not in the line of cars that snaked across the valley.  YES!!! Those HAVE to be it!! YAY!  I will pay $10 a gallon if I have to.

As we got closer I kept waiting for the engine to sputter, thinking at least we were close enough to walk now.  But it didn't.  It kept going, nice and smooth, right up to the gas pump, where gasoline was $7 a gallon if I recall correctly.  Lance reached out as we reached the exit, touching me for the first time in 53 miles.  Smart man. Any sooner and I would have gone poltergeist on him I am sure.  Instead I was simply thankful.

As he pumped more then enough gas to get us the other 50 miles again, I  trotted inside the store only to notice the sign with the hours.  8 pm was closing.  It was currently 7:46.  15 minutes from closing and NO gas. Mmmhmm.  We sure were lucky.  Those few minutes I kept us at 80 mph were probably our saving grace that night.

On a side note, I kept saying to God that if he wanted me to run out of gas, that if there was someone for me to minister to along the way I was willing and not too focused on my own drama.  Funnily enough, the gal behind the counter ministered to me.  She blessed us and told us to have faith, it would all turn out just right.  

Okay, as big of a smile as that put on my face, I walked away thinking, ya know... I really could have received that message just as well without the drama and stress that brought me to it. Maybe.

So, lesson learned.  DO not ignore your gas gauge as you approach the Mojave.  You might not be as lucky. 

Amid the boxes and packing paper

Lately it seems my blogs have ended up in my seminary blog, but today, this is just about me and my life.  Not about how it works with seminary.  Today, it is about the fact I sit in this house, as it is almost empty of our things; things that made it our home.  I look around me at all the space- which by the way, feels really good in a whirlwind of busy-ness- and I think of all the room that was made in my heart for my friends here.
We were blessed with a great little congregation.  Not that there have not been times I wanted to rip my hair out over frustration with them, but just like marriage, I believe a congregation chooses you, not the other way around and you stay; a commitment.

Our house is not the only empty place we will leave.  By sheer volume of Kelly bodies alone, we will leave an entire pew empty in our quaint little sanctuary.  And we worry.  Will someone sit and lead other parents and adults in study on Sunday mornings now?  Will the archiving of church photos be completed?  How will the youth groups fare when losing a large number like this?  Not that my family is the be-all end-all for this congregation, but we are a small one and we are not the only ones leaving.  One of the members is leaving to live in warmer weather, another has gone home to await us all.  Many empty spots will appear over this month and ours will be among them.

I look at my boxes, labeled with things we own and often think, they are just things, they are not what matters.  Yet it is the moment I unpack those things that I think of the ones I love and memories we have made along the way.  The Austrian cowbell from friends who took thier parents all over the continent when we all lived in Germany.  The crystal returned just days ago from co-hosting a fancy fundraiser dinner that will now make me think of her as I put it away in my new home.  The vintage map of the Hudson Valley that will be framed and hung to make me think of my dear clothing designer friend, who loves all things vintage.  There will be beach passes to empty from my wallet to make me remember a summer spent learning to walk on an injured ankle down to a hidden cove where we sat, sunned and swam with local friends and read trash and fluff all summer.  And little things will stay on for a while- probably like my A&P and Shoprite store cards on my keychain- that will be months before I remember to take them off- but see them every time I put a new one on for L.A. groceries and pharmacies.

What is always hardest is realizing that like the forwarded mail, the daily thoughts will become fewer, less noticeable.  I will make new friends to add to my growing list of blessings along the way.  I will find new haunts for coffee and new local spots for swimming and hanging out.  I will not forget NY, nor the friends made here- the family of choice that comes with Army life.  I will treasure them and when I pick up these things to pack them again, to leave L.A., I will think the same things again.  So they are not just things.  They are reminders, they reveal in a way the memories that get forgotten in daily life.  They will keep my friends close in my heart, even long years from now when we may have lost touch.

 For now though, I wrap them up with care, I label them and I move on to the next item.  Because if I don't, it isn't about not being ready in time, it is about not being able to function.  I have to set them in those boxes and move on.  I have to say farewell and start again, just like I did in Savannah, in New Jersey, in Wisconsin, in California, in Germany, in Colorado, in Florida, in Tennessee, in Kentucky, in Virginia, in Michigan, and now, New York.