i am
tired,
but that beautiful kind of tired
that makes me glad
for this
whole
day
(especially
the moments it
felt
eternal)
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
writing with pictures
still paying attention to the little details.
i'm thankful for the delightful things blooming in my yard today.
Friday, February 23, 2007
blooming
I noticed my first iris bloom of the season today. It's stunning, if I do say so myself. Plus, our California poppies are starting to bloom, so that orange makes the iris's purple even more beautiful.
We starting putting our old chunks of concrete back in the ground, as stepping stones, this afternoon. Our garden is starting to look more, well, garden-y. (The gnome helps.) I love the things that are growing.
I keep trying to look at my yard with an outsider's eyes, but never really succeed. I have the same problem with our house.
Probably, to someone passing by, both still look pretty ragged. But I see all this progress that we've made. Even some of the bits that seem to look messier than when we started--like our lack of trim on windows and doorways, or the bits of missing siding where we re-plumbed the kitchen sink--are signs to me of progress we're making. Making this house our home is a long, messy process. And I'm proud of our ragged attempts at progress. (My messy garden is SO much better than the concrete that was there!)
Which seems like an apt image for lent; certainly, for Ash Wednesday. To get to Easter, first we cover ourselves with messy ashes. This probably makes us look a lot worse off than we seemed on Mardi Gras, but the ashes mark a pretty important and big step.
I only participated in morning-time Ash Wednesday worship once or twice, so I'm not sure how I feel about wearing my ashes around town all day, announcing to the world that I need repentance.
But I'm definitely going to try to get more details from anyone who looks ragged or messy. They might just need congratulations for making it a good, long way toward being whole.
We starting putting our old chunks of concrete back in the ground, as stepping stones, this afternoon. Our garden is starting to look more, well, garden-y. (The gnome helps.) I love the things that are growing.
I keep trying to look at my yard with an outsider's eyes, but never really succeed. I have the same problem with our house.
Probably, to someone passing by, both still look pretty ragged. But I see all this progress that we've made. Even some of the bits that seem to look messier than when we started--like our lack of trim on windows and doorways, or the bits of missing siding where we re-plumbed the kitchen sink--are signs to me of progress we're making. Making this house our home is a long, messy process. And I'm proud of our ragged attempts at progress. (My messy garden is SO much better than the concrete that was there!)
Which seems like an apt image for lent; certainly, for Ash Wednesday. To get to Easter, first we cover ourselves with messy ashes. This probably makes us look a lot worse off than we seemed on Mardi Gras, but the ashes mark a pretty important and big step.
I only participated in morning-time Ash Wednesday worship once or twice, so I'm not sure how I feel about wearing my ashes around town all day, announcing to the world that I need repentance.
But I'm definitely going to try to get more details from anyone who looks ragged or messy. They might just need congratulations for making it a good, long way toward being whole.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
More little things
I'm not generally good at mornings, so it wasn't altogether surprising that I had to drag myself out of bed and rally to get to the the weekly Bible study I lead in a shelter program downtown this morning. Lately, it seems like changes in the community of residents there has meant difficult and disjointed conversation about whatever passages we're reading.
Which makes the conversations I got to be a part of today seem even more wonderful.
In the midst of talk about a bunch of other things, one woman told about her childhood--about words a neighbor shared with her on the porch of her house. In faithful detail, she recalled the message that had been shared with her: an invitation to a better life in God. A God who has dreams for our lives.
She said she'd never thought about there being anything other than the world she knew--anything beyond drinking all day. As a child, this neighbor's words opened new possibilities. And even though it would be years before she really chose to follow God's dreams, she remembers beginning to know of their possibilities on that afternoon on the porch.
I wonder how many kids this neighbor might have said such things to. And I wonder if she has any idea what powerful memory she was creating in this then-young girl.
I suspect we all have more effect on one another that we're aware of.
Which makes the conversations I got to be a part of today seem even more wonderful.
In the midst of talk about a bunch of other things, one woman told about her childhood--about words a neighbor shared with her on the porch of her house. In faithful detail, she recalled the message that had been shared with her: an invitation to a better life in God. A God who has dreams for our lives.
She said she'd never thought about there being anything other than the world she knew--anything beyond drinking all day. As a child, this neighbor's words opened new possibilities. And even though it would be years before she really chose to follow God's dreams, she remembers beginning to know of their possibilities on that afternoon on the porch.
I wonder how many kids this neighbor might have said such things to. And I wonder if she has any idea what powerful memory she was creating in this then-young girl.
I suspect we all have more effect on one another that we're aware of.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Lenten practices
So, it's Ash Wednesday, and I get to bask in the memory of worship on my favorite church holiday.
This year, I decided, I like that it's repentance we do together.
Too often, we waste too much time pointing out personal sins. (Our own, and others...) On Ash Wednesday, though, we all take on ashes.
It's making me feel better--even a little bit hopeful--in the midst of too much that's going wrong. (According to Matt, the world's going to hell in a handbasket.) If we're all willing to take on ashes together, in church, maybe we can begin to think about what it would look like to repent of the things we do together, sometimes without even really meaning to: starting wars and continuing them, denying the worth and humanity of children of God, persisting in systems that perpetuate sexism. And racism.
Maybe reconciliation can be possible.
It always feels really weird, putting ashes on other people's foreheads. First off, there's the worry about getting the right amount on your finger, so it makes a mark that's sufficiently visible to seem truly repentant, without showering their nose with little bits of ash.
Then, there's the awkward way the ashes make us confront our mortality. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." The same words to everyone.
In my mind, they're words of comfort: we are all of the same "stuff," and, ultimately, it's not even what makes "us" "us." Dust.
And, remembering that we're all dust somehow makes all the little stuff more meaningful--the dust of the earth matters, since it's what we are.
All of which Ellen Ott Marshall said so beautifully in her talk at church tonight, as she invited us to practice hope this Lent. Hope in attentiveness to the little stuff, even as it sits in tension with so much that's wrong and difficult and hard.
SO, I'm resolving to accept the Lenten challenge Karen gave me: to write. And I'm gonna try to be attentive to the dust and other little stuff that gives me hope.
This year, I decided, I like that it's repentance we do together.
Too often, we waste too much time pointing out personal sins. (Our own, and others...) On Ash Wednesday, though, we all take on ashes.
It's making me feel better--even a little bit hopeful--in the midst of too much that's going wrong. (According to Matt, the world's going to hell in a handbasket.) If we're all willing to take on ashes together, in church, maybe we can begin to think about what it would look like to repent of the things we do together, sometimes without even really meaning to: starting wars and continuing them, denying the worth and humanity of children of God, persisting in systems that perpetuate sexism. And racism.
Maybe reconciliation can be possible.
It always feels really weird, putting ashes on other people's foreheads. First off, there's the worry about getting the right amount on your finger, so it makes a mark that's sufficiently visible to seem truly repentant, without showering their nose with little bits of ash.
Then, there's the awkward way the ashes make us confront our mortality. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." The same words to everyone.
In my mind, they're words of comfort: we are all of the same "stuff," and, ultimately, it's not even what makes "us" "us." Dust.
And, remembering that we're all dust somehow makes all the little stuff more meaningful--the dust of the earth matters, since it's what we are.
All of which Ellen Ott Marshall said so beautifully in her talk at church tonight, as she invited us to practice hope this Lent. Hope in attentiveness to the little stuff, even as it sits in tension with so much that's wrong and difficult and hard.
SO, I'm resolving to accept the Lenten challenge Karen gave me: to write. And I'm gonna try to be attentive to the dust and other little stuff that gives me hope.
Monday, January 22, 2007
in the kitchen
We've been home from our spectacular vacation for just over a week now. Since we got back, I don't think Matt has taken a break. In fact, he's re-routing some plumbing to the kitchen sink as I type.
Neither of us really understood how much work this house would be. The excitement of little triumphs, however, is keeping us going. Here, I am going to inflict some of the adventure on you.
With our base cabinets ready to install, it was finally time to tear out all the last bits of the kitchen: the walls and the sink. So, last Sunday, Matt and his friend, Andrew, got out their pry bars and went at it. (I took my obligatory Sunday nap. Believe me--it's better for us all.)
We figured that now's a good time to switch out the nasty old window (not old enough to be really cool--just cheap and old) for a new one. When the crappy old window was installed, some creative and not very effective plumbing was done--making the vent pipe an imaginary vent pipe through the window. Someone just severed it, installed a new window, and called it good.
We also discovered, in removing the wallboard, that the wall was mostly gone, thanks to old termite damage and what appears to have been several floods under the kitchen sink. So, a bit of re-framing was in order. Here's Matt with the wall really gone, and a new view of the street.
Building the new wall took us well past dark. By dark, we called in for reinforcements. But doesn't the new wall look, well...stable?
That was on Monday. On Tuesday, wallboard went up. Then Matt's dad came over to install the beautiful cabinets he built (out of reclaimed lumber!). Electricity and some paint and a new dishwasher and temporary countertops...and, finally, a sink!
Here's the kitchen as it's currently assembled. We're looking forward to being able to enjoy. And Matt's started building the forms for the new concrete countertop.
Someday, before too long, we hope we'll be able to be better dinner hosts. And have more time to spend with our friends (doing something other than construction work).
Neither of us really understood how much work this house would be. The excitement of little triumphs, however, is keeping us going. Here, I am going to inflict some of the adventure on you.
With our base cabinets ready to install, it was finally time to tear out all the last bits of the kitchen: the walls and the sink. So, last Sunday, Matt and his friend, Andrew, got out their pry bars and went at it. (I took my obligatory Sunday nap. Believe me--it's better for us all.)
We figured that now's a good time to switch out the nasty old window (not old enough to be really cool--just cheap and old) for a new one. When the crappy old window was installed, some creative and not very effective plumbing was done--making the vent pipe an imaginary vent pipe through the window. Someone just severed it, installed a new window, and called it good.
We also discovered, in removing the wallboard, that the wall was mostly gone, thanks to old termite damage and what appears to have been several floods under the kitchen sink. So, a bit of re-framing was in order. Here's Matt with the wall really gone, and a new view of the street.
Building the new wall took us well past dark. By dark, we called in for reinforcements. But doesn't the new wall look, well...stable?
That was on Monday. On Tuesday, wallboard went up. Then Matt's dad came over to install the beautiful cabinets he built (out of reclaimed lumber!). Electricity and some paint and a new dishwasher and temporary countertops...and, finally, a sink!
Here's the kitchen as it's currently assembled. We're looking forward to being able to enjoy. And Matt's started building the forms for the new concrete countertop.
Someday, before too long, we hope we'll be able to be better dinner hosts. And have more time to spend with our friends (doing something other than construction work).
Sunday, January 14, 2007
letting the aloha live
We're just back from a splendid, luxurious TWO WEEK vacation in Hawaii. The length, the ocean, the pineapples and the company were all splendid.
Growing up in Nebraska, my sense of Hawaii lacked nuance. It just enchanted me with dreamy pictures of swaying palm trees and tropical ocean scenery.
Now, I can distinguish the difference between Waikiki's urbanized and developed strip of hotels and the rural coffee fields of the big island.
In disbelief at the number of ABC convenience stores in Waikiki, Matt and I decided to count them on our walk back from dinner one night. It was a pleasant stroll--less than a mile. And, we passed 11 ABC stores (plus, one that was about to open in a new shopping mall). More incredible to us, though, was that we passed 3 Coach stores. (And knew that if we walked further, we'd find another one a block later.) We picked Coach to count, but there were other choices for fine handbag purchasing... It occurred to me, in one unfolding walk, that many people must vacation with purposes other than seeing swaying palm trees. But I'm still incredulous that THAT many people buy expensive handbags on vacation.
As for me, I'm especially grateful for some sea turtles, 2 whales off the big island coast, spectacular waves on the North Shore, and one exquisite sunset (which we enjoyed from an indulgent Waikiki hotel beach cafe). And for my dear husband, and his family, who we got to hang with during our time away from Oahu.
the exquisite sunset
the turtles
our family portrait at volcanoes national park
I bought no Coach handbags.
I did, however, feel a growing sense of connection between my Nebraska roots and the Hawaiian soil. My favorite local big island station played songs that, while also borrowing from reggae and using more ukelele, felt distinctively like country music. Turns out, there've been cowboys on Hawaii for years. And folks who go "big pig hunting," and sing songs about it.
Who knew?
Growing up in Nebraska, my sense of Hawaii lacked nuance. It just enchanted me with dreamy pictures of swaying palm trees and tropical ocean scenery.
Now, I can distinguish the difference between Waikiki's urbanized and developed strip of hotels and the rural coffee fields of the big island.
In disbelief at the number of ABC convenience stores in Waikiki, Matt and I decided to count them on our walk back from dinner one night. It was a pleasant stroll--less than a mile. And, we passed 11 ABC stores (plus, one that was about to open in a new shopping mall). More incredible to us, though, was that we passed 3 Coach stores. (And knew that if we walked further, we'd find another one a block later.) We picked Coach to count, but there were other choices for fine handbag purchasing... It occurred to me, in one unfolding walk, that many people must vacation with purposes other than seeing swaying palm trees. But I'm still incredulous that THAT many people buy expensive handbags on vacation.
As for me, I'm especially grateful for some sea turtles, 2 whales off the big island coast, spectacular waves on the North Shore, and one exquisite sunset (which we enjoyed from an indulgent Waikiki hotel beach cafe). And for my dear husband, and his family, who we got to hang with during our time away from Oahu.
the exquisite sunset
the turtles
our family portrait at volcanoes national park
I bought no Coach handbags.
I did, however, feel a growing sense of connection between my Nebraska roots and the Hawaiian soil. My favorite local big island station played songs that, while also borrowing from reggae and using more ukelele, felt distinctively like country music. Turns out, there've been cowboys on Hawaii for years. And folks who go "big pig hunting," and sing songs about it.
Who knew?
Saturday, December 30, 2006
sort-of like walking on water
When Matt and I were back in Nebraska this week, celebrating Christmas, we went canoeing on Mom and Dad's lake. (Dad steered and egged on.) We thought it was less frozen than it really was. (Thin layers of melted water on top of ice can be deceiving.) There's a lesson in this somewhere, but I'm on vacation and I haven't figured it out yet.
It sure was pretty, though, watching the sunset colors reflect off the narrow channel the canoe cut through the ice...
In other news, Grand Island, Nebraska now, apparently, has a Starbucks. (We didn't visit.) And Wal-Mart's litter can be found even in out-of-town cornfields. There's a commentary in this somewhere, and I think you can figure it out yourself.
Now, we're leaving the ice and canoes behind for some pineapples and tropical breezes...
Thursday, December 21, 2006
the hokey pokey isn't what christmas is all about
With apologies to Karen for stealin' her idea, I wanted to share this with you:
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
a long night
And a confession: I thought that tonight is the longest night of the year. But, it turns out, tomorrow night is a smidgen longer.
At least, tomorrow's daylight is 2 seconds shorter than today's.
Tonight, at our Vespers worship, I said it was the longest night.
What I didn't notice, at all, is that there's a new moon tonight. (And, really, how's one to notice a new moon? Especially when there are so many giant inflatable snow creatures around, basking under palm trees?!?) A new moon makes things feel extra dark, and long. Maybe it's the "darkest night..."
However...I marvel at the information available online. Sunrises and sunsets, daylight hours, tides and moon phases.
Seems funny to me that we can measure the change in season--the solstice--in 2 second increments. I wonder if change happens that way in my life more often. If I've passed tipping points, but hardly noticed, because 2 seconds are so, well, small.
And I think that perhaps Christmas is that way. God's love is incarnate in a new, wonderful, full (if physically small) way, and it barely registers (other than for that group of shepherds, some angels and a small entourage of magi.)
This year, when I'm aware of so many broken, hurting, violence-filled places and lives, I'm hanging on to those 2 seconds.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
home for the holidays
Matt has this lovely salt water aquarium in our living room, and in it live two clown fish. They're actually our friend Ryan's fish, but they live at our house.
From "Finding Nemo," I know that clown fish are supposed to live in anemones. We don't have any anemones.
To my endless delight, our two clown fish are attempting to take up residence in two nearby corals.
Corals are not nearly as delightful to live in as anemones, I think; one has wavy arm things that might be fun to swim through, but no inner chamber in which to take refuge. The other coral... Well, it just seems to scream "sub-standard" housing to me. It's got nothin' much going for it, other than that it's pretty. No place to get inside, nothing to swim through.
But, day after day, Jackie and Nighty, the clown fish, loyally, hopefully stand by their homes. As if to guard them, and to show them off the world of our living room.
They give me hope that we can make "home" out of just about anything, if we have eyes to see.
(Not, of course, that this is any reason to stop working to make sure everyone has a decent place to live...)
From "Finding Nemo," I know that clown fish are supposed to live in anemones. We don't have any anemones.
To my endless delight, our two clown fish are attempting to take up residence in two nearby corals.
Corals are not nearly as delightful to live in as anemones, I think; one has wavy arm things that might be fun to swim through, but no inner chamber in which to take refuge. The other coral... Well, it just seems to scream "sub-standard" housing to me. It's got nothin' much going for it, other than that it's pretty. No place to get inside, nothing to swim through.
But, day after day, Jackie and Nighty, the clown fish, loyally, hopefully stand by their homes. As if to guard them, and to show them off the world of our living room.
They give me hope that we can make "home" out of just about anything, if we have eyes to see.
(Not, of course, that this is any reason to stop working to make sure everyone has a decent place to live...)
Friday, December 08, 2006
ever since those angels sang "alleluia"...
Today's RevGalPals Friday Five has me singin'. And thinking: why don't we have much other "seasonal" music? I mean, sure, JCSuperstar comes out Holy Week...but I've got no other collection of music that I pull out for a month of the year. What fun!
1. A favorite 'secular' Christmas song.
"Baby, It's Cold Outside" charms me, though I worry when I stop to think about the lyrics much. (manipulative male convincing sweet, wanting-to-please-other-people woman into staying at his place?!?) It makes me think of that song, "To Make You Feel My Love;" when sung by Garth Brooks to accompany Harry Connick's love in "Hope Floats," it was sweet. In Bob Dylan's voice, it just sounded, well, predatory...
2. Christmas song that chokes you up (maybe even in spite of yourself--the cheesier the better)
My heart belongs to John Denver and those Muppets. I can't avoid getting choked up "When the River Meets the Sea," as little Robin's pure voice sings out a vision of God's kingdom.
3. Christmas song that makes you want to stuff your ears with chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, especially the Mannheim Steamroller version. (Sorry, Mom; couldn't resist.)
4. The Twelve Days of Christmas: is there *any* redeeming value to that song? Discuss.
Again, with the Muppets, it's all beautiful. Piggy even makes appropriate mockery of greed with her "5 Golden Rings." Beautiful.
5. A favorite Christmas album
Has to be "A Christmas Together." John Denver AND the Muppets! What could be better?!?!?
1. A favorite 'secular' Christmas song.
"Baby, It's Cold Outside" charms me, though I worry when I stop to think about the lyrics much. (manipulative male convincing sweet, wanting-to-please-other-people woman into staying at his place?!?) It makes me think of that song, "To Make You Feel My Love;" when sung by Garth Brooks to accompany Harry Connick's love in "Hope Floats," it was sweet. In Bob Dylan's voice, it just sounded, well, predatory...
2. Christmas song that chokes you up (maybe even in spite of yourself--the cheesier the better)
My heart belongs to John Denver and those Muppets. I can't avoid getting choked up "When the River Meets the Sea," as little Robin's pure voice sings out a vision of God's kingdom.
3. Christmas song that makes you want to stuff your ears with chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, especially the Mannheim Steamroller version. (Sorry, Mom; couldn't resist.)
4. The Twelve Days of Christmas: is there *any* redeeming value to that song? Discuss.
Again, with the Muppets, it's all beautiful. Piggy even makes appropriate mockery of greed with her "5 Golden Rings." Beautiful.
5. A favorite Christmas album
Has to be "A Christmas Together." John Denver AND the Muppets! What could be better?!?!?
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
sacraments AND advent light
I know we're not to "joy" Sunday yet (and, don't worry: the pink candle remains unlit) BUT I'm grateful for the joy of the Lord tonight. Tonight, I got to serve Communion to a whole bunch of families, including a lot of little kids. I'm not quite sure how to explain how it is that the body and blood of Christ can be so good to share, but it sure felt good to share this sacrament of our church, up at the altar in our dramatic sanctuary, with lots of little people. With big eyes, and tenuous hands, they reached out for those wafers, and got a taste of this sign of God's grace. Watching mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers (and many assorted honorary aunties and uncles) share in this holy meal was incredible. The sense of expectation, the joy, the tangible, mysterious holiness--this is why I love communion.
And, I kept thinking about the little girl whose funeral I'm to lead tomorrow. The life of each of those children seemed so precious and wonderful. I'm intensely grateful to get to share this sign of God with all those kids tonight. Not that I think communion is necessary for salvation. It's just awfully beautiful.
And, I kept thinking about the little girl whose funeral I'm to lead tomorrow. The life of each of those children seemed so precious and wonderful. I'm intensely grateful to get to share this sign of God with all those kids tonight. Not that I think communion is necessary for salvation. It's just awfully beautiful.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
advent light
So, in an odd side-bar comment during our staff meeting today, I became intrigued with how the pink candle got to be in our Advent wreaths. (And, I have to say, my curiosity was encouraged by the RevGalPals Friday Five contest last week, to give a new reason for the odd pink candle. I didn't post, but my best idea, I think, was that it stands as a sort of "minority report," insisting that we don't all think/look/believe the same. There's no expectation that the lone pink candle will become purple, but it still has a clear place in the wreath. But I digress...)
From a bit of internet searching, I found 2 possibilities intriguing:
-The whole Advent wreath thing has its roots in pre-Christian (read: pagan) Germany. A getting-ready-of-the-solstice ritual of lighting more candles, to get us through this darkness until that day when the night will begin to grow shorter.
-The pink color probably snuck in through Lent and the Pope. Several sites claim this. Apparently, purple went with Lent before it went with Advent (back in the day, when Lent was the only real liturgical "season." And, during that long season of penitence, folks still wanted to remember that even the suffering of crucifixion isn't horrible. (After all, it led to resurrection!) So, on the third (or fourth) Sunday, folks were supposed to give up the fast for a day of feasting. And, the Pope would give a rose to a citizen on that day. The rose inspired priests to start wearing pink. Then, when purple was applied to Advent (which used to have a lot more penitenece and considerably less shopping), the pink came along, too, on Sunday 3.
Now, we just get the joy (without too much penitence). But as far as I've experienced, we don't get so much feasting during Lent...
In other advent news, I've been thinking about the lights on trees in the middle of El Cajon Boulevard near our house. Someone too the care to wrap the lower limbs of a whole bunch of trees in strings of white lights. Trouble is, at least 3/4 of the bulbs are not working. Which makes the effort my current favorite Advent display. Finally, someone got it right--just a few twinkling lights, holding out what may seem like futile hope that God will come to the world and it will mean everything.
From a bit of internet searching, I found 2 possibilities intriguing:
-The whole Advent wreath thing has its roots in pre-Christian (read: pagan) Germany. A getting-ready-of-the-solstice ritual of lighting more candles, to get us through this darkness until that day when the night will begin to grow shorter.
-The pink color probably snuck in through Lent and the Pope. Several sites claim this. Apparently, purple went with Lent before it went with Advent (back in the day, when Lent was the only real liturgical "season." And, during that long season of penitence, folks still wanted to remember that even the suffering of crucifixion isn't horrible. (After all, it led to resurrection!) So, on the third (or fourth) Sunday, folks were supposed to give up the fast for a day of feasting. And, the Pope would give a rose to a citizen on that day. The rose inspired priests to start wearing pink. Then, when purple was applied to Advent (which used to have a lot more penitenece and considerably less shopping), the pink came along, too, on Sunday 3.
Now, we just get the joy (without too much penitence). But as far as I've experienced, we don't get so much feasting during Lent...
In other advent news, I've been thinking about the lights on trees in the middle of El Cajon Boulevard near our house. Someone too the care to wrap the lower limbs of a whole bunch of trees in strings of white lights. Trouble is, at least 3/4 of the bulbs are not working. Which makes the effort my current favorite Advent display. Finally, someone got it right--just a few twinkling lights, holding out what may seem like futile hope that God will come to the world and it will mean everything.
sacraments
I spent part of this afternoon with a young mother at a funeral home, as she spent time with her would-be six-year-old daughter, who was killed in a car accident last week.
She had questions for me about baptism: her daughter hadn't been baptized, and she was concerned.
I told her that we didn't baptize people after death, but that we believe God's grace is present even without baptism. Not being baptized is not going to keep her daughter away from being received into God's eternal love.
Then, her family showed up, and it was clear that they were much more worried about her unbaptized state. (They had not been, however, worried enough to show up much while she was alive.)
All of which made me think that our sacrament of baptism has become so enmeshed with doctrines and policies that we've missed at least part of the point of what God's Spirit and water are able to accomplish. This Sunday, as we read about John the Baptist in our Advent preparations, we're invited to be repent, and be baptized. But I don't think he was talking about the same thing that worried those family members. I think he was inviting us to something much more radical.
The child's mother, however, continued to share the kind of love that is lived out in a million, tiny details. She painted her daughter's fingernails a shade of a shiny pink that would have delighted her.
Which seemed, somehow, to convey the amazing and beautiful qualities of God's love in a richly sacramental way.
She had questions for me about baptism: her daughter hadn't been baptized, and she was concerned.
I told her that we didn't baptize people after death, but that we believe God's grace is present even without baptism. Not being baptized is not going to keep her daughter away from being received into God's eternal love.
Then, her family showed up, and it was clear that they were much more worried about her unbaptized state. (They had not been, however, worried enough to show up much while she was alive.)
All of which made me think that our sacrament of baptism has become so enmeshed with doctrines and policies that we've missed at least part of the point of what God's Spirit and water are able to accomplish. This Sunday, as we read about John the Baptist in our Advent preparations, we're invited to be repent, and be baptized. But I don't think he was talking about the same thing that worried those family members. I think he was inviting us to something much more radical.
The child's mother, however, continued to share the kind of love that is lived out in a million, tiny details. She painted her daughter's fingernails a shade of a shiny pink that would have delighted her.
Which seemed, somehow, to convey the amazing and beautiful qualities of God's love in a richly sacramental way.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
grassroots
So, yesterday, while working in my garden, attempting to keep the deeply-rooted bermuda grass out of my fence, I was musing on just how tough grass roots can be.
They're impossible to get rid of entirely.
I guess I hadn't really contemplated the stubborn, resilient, impossible-to-kill nature of grass roots. "Grassroots" meant something more like "from the common people" in my mind, rather than "uncontrollable." I like the idea of grassroots organizing even better today.
I still, however, wish the bermuda grass weren't in my fence.
In other hopeful news, I planted a root-y stick in my garden today. The man at the City Farmer nursery tells me it will grow into an unruly raspberry plant before I know it. And I planted some odd-looking asparagus roots, and a meek rhubarb plant. It was a day of rooting. Here's hoping these tasty things are as resilient as grass roots!
They're impossible to get rid of entirely.
I guess I hadn't really contemplated the stubborn, resilient, impossible-to-kill nature of grass roots. "Grassroots" meant something more like "from the common people" in my mind, rather than "uncontrollable." I like the idea of grassroots organizing even better today.
I still, however, wish the bermuda grass weren't in my fence.
In other hopeful news, I planted a root-y stick in my garden today. The man at the City Farmer nursery tells me it will grow into an unruly raspberry plant before I know it. And I planted some odd-looking asparagus roots, and a meek rhubarb plant. It was a day of rooting. Here's hoping these tasty things are as resilient as grass roots!
Friday, November 24, 2006
i didn't really mean to buy anything today...
Today's RevGalPal Friday Five seemed just right for now. I just had a BLAST a Home Depot, in spite of it making me mad, and am now realizing that I bought something on Buy Nothing Day, even though I didn't really mean to. Does it count if it's just shingles for a family house that you're rebuilding afer a wildfire burns yours down?
1. Would you ever/have you ever stood in line for something--tickets, good deals on electronics, Tickle Me Elmo?
I'd stand in line for u2 tix, and am very grateful to have a sister-in-law who did that for me last year! ;) And I wished my folks would stand in line for a Cabbage Patch Kid once, but that was a long time ago.
2. Do you enjoy shopping as a recreational activity?
Tonight, I had a blast shopping, but there were a lot of extinuating circumstances.
My husband and I, plus his siblings and parents, got back from a day of working on the house in Julian. The guys intended to go to Home Depot to fetch the 20 more bundles of shingles that we need. A "man" errand. But they got distracted in the workshop garage, and weren't going to make it. So, Shannon and I convinced them that we could run the errand. And, as grace would have it, we ran into Emily as we pulled out of the long driveway, and convinced her to come on our girly mission. With just 20 minutes 'til closing time, we sprinted through the store, begging for forklift assistance and dragging a half ton--literally, a half ton--of shingles to the checkout. It was more fun than I know how to convey, and the odd looks of those who were in disbelief that these 3 girls could handle or want a half ton of shingles were priceless. The pathetic service only served to buoy our own sense of accomplisment.
3. Your favorite place to browse without necessarily buying anything.
the internet and the garden store
4. Gift cards: handy gifts for the loved one who has everything, or cold impersonal symbol of all that is wrong in our culture?
depends entirely on the situation. And while gift registries (another thing entirely) can feel like obligations rising out of materialism and commercialism at their worst, I also love the image of a community coming together to get the things a couple or new parents will need for their life. What a beautiful way to embody our belonging together than to have a house full of the things you use every day, or even on special occasions of hospitality, that are also tokens of the love and support that come from their givers. I think giftcards sometimes function this way--they let people buy the stuff they really need, and honor that there can be a blessing in being able to contribute to that.
On the other hand, I still have a $50 gift card from Tiffany & Co that was a wedding present. Touching, but not my style. And you can't buy a darn thing at Tiffany's for $50... :)
5. Discuss the spiritual and theological issues inherent in people coming to blows over a Playstation 3.
that's just sad.
1. Would you ever/have you ever stood in line for something--tickets, good deals on electronics, Tickle Me Elmo?
I'd stand in line for u2 tix, and am very grateful to have a sister-in-law who did that for me last year! ;) And I wished my folks would stand in line for a Cabbage Patch Kid once, but that was a long time ago.
2. Do you enjoy shopping as a recreational activity?
Tonight, I had a blast shopping, but there were a lot of extinuating circumstances.
My husband and I, plus his siblings and parents, got back from a day of working on the house in Julian. The guys intended to go to Home Depot to fetch the 20 more bundles of shingles that we need. A "man" errand. But they got distracted in the workshop garage, and weren't going to make it. So, Shannon and I convinced them that we could run the errand. And, as grace would have it, we ran into Emily as we pulled out of the long driveway, and convinced her to come on our girly mission. With just 20 minutes 'til closing time, we sprinted through the store, begging for forklift assistance and dragging a half ton--literally, a half ton--of shingles to the checkout. It was more fun than I know how to convey, and the odd looks of those who were in disbelief that these 3 girls could handle or want a half ton of shingles were priceless. The pathetic service only served to buoy our own sense of accomplisment.
3. Your favorite place to browse without necessarily buying anything.
the internet and the garden store
4. Gift cards: handy gifts for the loved one who has everything, or cold impersonal symbol of all that is wrong in our culture?
depends entirely on the situation. And while gift registries (another thing entirely) can feel like obligations rising out of materialism and commercialism at their worst, I also love the image of a community coming together to get the things a couple or new parents will need for their life. What a beautiful way to embody our belonging together than to have a house full of the things you use every day, or even on special occasions of hospitality, that are also tokens of the love and support that come from their givers. I think giftcards sometimes function this way--they let people buy the stuff they really need, and honor that there can be a blessing in being able to contribute to that.
On the other hand, I still have a $50 gift card from Tiffany & Co that was a wedding present. Touching, but not my style. And you can't buy a darn thing at Tiffany's for $50... :)
5. Discuss the spiritual and theological issues inherent in people coming to blows over a Playstation 3.
that's just sad.
Monday, November 20, 2006
five things i'm still grateful for on monday
ok, so the revgal pal assignment was from last friday, but i had this crazy cold, and my head wasn't working.
here's what i'm grateful for today:
1. a loving husband who checks in on me, and when he can't get me on the phone, comes by in person
2. lettuce that's growing in my front yard garden, in spite of my ignorance about gardening
3. curiosity--today manifest in tangential online exploration only vaguely related to sermon preparation (Did you know that "Christ the King" Sunday didn't exist 'til Pope Pius XI made it a feast day in 1925? 1925, like when Mussolini was just in power...interesting time for Christ to be true King...)
4. friends, both far and near--especially the ones who are still fabulous to be with, even tho' our visits are way too few and far apart
5. my family, the folks i was born with and the ones i married into and the ones i chose who are as-good-as
(6. grace)
those are in no particular order. and i figure that if i'm late, i might as well blow the assignment and include a 6th.
here's what i'm grateful for today:
1. a loving husband who checks in on me, and when he can't get me on the phone, comes by in person
2. lettuce that's growing in my front yard garden, in spite of my ignorance about gardening
3. curiosity--today manifest in tangential online exploration only vaguely related to sermon preparation (Did you know that "Christ the King" Sunday didn't exist 'til Pope Pius XI made it a feast day in 1925? 1925, like when Mussolini was just in power...interesting time for Christ to be true King...)
4. friends, both far and near--especially the ones who are still fabulous to be with, even tho' our visits are way too few and far apart
5. my family, the folks i was born with and the ones i married into and the ones i chose who are as-good-as
(6. grace)
those are in no particular order. and i figure that if i'm late, i might as well blow the assignment and include a 6th.
Monday, November 13, 2006
gotta learn spanish
Tonight, I walked to my friendly neighborhood mercado. They have a fabulous deli/lunch counter. And tortilla chips to die for. Matt swears by their carne asada burritos. Says they're better than Hilberto's. That's pretty incredible. So, when I got home from work and Matt was starving, I headed over there.
I decided it was a pollo night. So I attempted to order two ("dos," I know) pollo asado burritos. And I was utterly unable to convey that to the woman working the counter. She had to get, no kidding, help from about 5 other people. My Nebraska-style pronunciations just aren't cuttin' it.
I felt ashamed. I am totally unable to do really basic things. I gotta learn Spanish.
I decided it was a pollo night. So I attempted to order two ("dos," I know) pollo asado burritos. And I was utterly unable to convey that to the woman working the counter. She had to get, no kidding, help from about 5 other people. My Nebraska-style pronunciations just aren't cuttin' it.
I felt ashamed. I am totally unable to do really basic things. I gotta learn Spanish.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
on conservatives and liberals
I heard Peter Beinart, recent author of The Good Fight: how liberals--and only liberals--can win the war on terror and make america great again, speak at a local event yesterday.
I haven't read his book yet, and am not ready to wade into the debate about whether or not he's a good spokesperson for the kind of liberalism that I love.
I have, however, been intrigued by what seems to me to be an ironic mis-paring between the conservative politics he describes and the conservative Christianity that so often support them.
He defined conservatives as folks who think USAmerica's problem is that we don't believe enough in ourself. By advocating the strength of America, a good and virtuous nation which has accomplished democracy and ought to spread it around the world, conservatives gain momentum.
He defined liberals as those who see USAmerica, like any human endeavor, as a nation in continual need of shaping, as we seek to become virtuous but deal with the reality that we are subject to the same flaws as all human institutions. Our strength is in our down doubt--our own commitment to ensuring that no one within our nation has too much power, and that our foreign policy is shaped in concert with less-powerful nations. They will keep us honest, and just.
What strikes me as ironic is how much this definition of "liberalism" shares in common with the basic theological anthropology that evangelical Christianity espouses--it begins with the sinful nature of humanity. Our "fallen" condition. (We liberal Christians tend to focus on this a bit less, though we're still glad to find redemption and grace!)
I would think that liberalism--acknowledgement of our own failures and inadequacy--would resonate with evangelical Christinaity.
Of course, I write this as Yahoo headlines tell about a leader of USAmerican evangelicalism, Ted Haggard, who is accused of meth use and of having hired another man to have sex with him. I'm not yet sure what to think about this. It reminds me again of how our understanding of sexuality is broken, in the church; perhaps Haggard was yet another victim of the sort of spiritual violence that convinces gay and lesbian people that they are unacceptable in God's eyes.
Somehow, though, it feels to me like it's time for an invitation to acknowledge our own brokenness: as a nation whose foreign policy is far from righetous, as Christians who--though we are practicing at getting better--are not yet perfect, as humans in need of each other and God to be reconciled.
I haven't read his book yet, and am not ready to wade into the debate about whether or not he's a good spokesperson for the kind of liberalism that I love.
I have, however, been intrigued by what seems to me to be an ironic mis-paring between the conservative politics he describes and the conservative Christianity that so often support them.
He defined conservatives as folks who think USAmerica's problem is that we don't believe enough in ourself. By advocating the strength of America, a good and virtuous nation which has accomplished democracy and ought to spread it around the world, conservatives gain momentum.
He defined liberals as those who see USAmerica, like any human endeavor, as a nation in continual need of shaping, as we seek to become virtuous but deal with the reality that we are subject to the same flaws as all human institutions. Our strength is in our down doubt--our own commitment to ensuring that no one within our nation has too much power, and that our foreign policy is shaped in concert with less-powerful nations. They will keep us honest, and just.
What strikes me as ironic is how much this definition of "liberalism" shares in common with the basic theological anthropology that evangelical Christianity espouses--it begins with the sinful nature of humanity. Our "fallen" condition. (We liberal Christians tend to focus on this a bit less, though we're still glad to find redemption and grace!)
I would think that liberalism--acknowledgement of our own failures and inadequacy--would resonate with evangelical Christinaity.
Of course, I write this as Yahoo headlines tell about a leader of USAmerican evangelicalism, Ted Haggard, who is accused of meth use and of having hired another man to have sex with him. I'm not yet sure what to think about this. It reminds me again of how our understanding of sexuality is broken, in the church; perhaps Haggard was yet another victim of the sort of spiritual violence that convinces gay and lesbian people that they are unacceptable in God's eyes.
Somehow, though, it feels to me like it's time for an invitation to acknowledge our own brokenness: as a nation whose foreign policy is far from righetous, as Christians who--though we are practicing at getting better--are not yet perfect, as humans in need of each other and God to be reconciled.
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