October 4, 2023

October 4, 1998

Today is the 25th anniversary of my ordination as Minister of Word and Sacrament. It has been 25 years of joy and sorrow, celebration and consolation. I have been privileged to be part of weddings, funerals, baptisms, communion. Countless church meals; hundreds – maybe a thousand – sermons; home and hospital visits. Gifted partners in ministry. Blessings too numerous to know. Some heartbreak, some disappointment, some conflict. But the overall feeling is joy – all joy. I am so grateful for this blessing, for these years, for this ministry.

 

September 20, 2023

The Small Things

My brother has a grass landing strip on the farm that he uses when he flies his plane. It is about a mile up and back and always nicely mowed. I walk there most mornings with my dog, Buddy. 

There are lots of folks in the working world -- corporate and academia -- who advocate for seeing the “big picture,” and I suppose that is often good advice. Those who are “down in the weeds” can get so caught up in the details that they often miss the important things. I don’t disagree with that view. 

But walking the runway gives me a different perspective. Yes, there is the big picture – golden morning sun, big beautiful blue sky, green bean fields row upon row. But there are also the small things, down in the weeds. There are hundreds of tiny spider webs draped on the grass. They sparkle in the dew like silk snowflakes. Most of them are less than an inch or two in size, and when the sun is high in the sky, they melt away. But in the early morning, there they are, some upright like little sails, some like tiny bowls, and some draped haphazardly, flung on blades of grass. And there are hundreds of little unseen creatures that made these beautiful webs. What do they catch in them? I don’t know, but it must be enough to sustain them. 

And there are also tiny, tiny flowers deep in the mown grass. Their blossoms are almost too small to be noticed.  Do they set seed now in preparation for next summer? Do the bees come to them? I don’t know that either. 

But I do know that there is such beauty in the world, all around – overhead and underfoot – some of it grand and glorious, and some of it tiny and precious. Thanks be to God!


 



September 6, 2023

Leadership Lessons From The Farm (as applied to church perhaps...)


Lesson 1: Don’t stand behind a horse. 

Sometimes it is dangerous to be in the back. The folks might get too far out in front. You could be left in the dust.  Or they might decide to kick, or kick-back. And there might be a big mess back there that is best just left behind. 

Lesson 2: Don’t stand in front of a beehive. 

Sometimes it is dangerous to be in the front. The folks might feel you are in their way, not respecting their pathways. They might decide to defend their territory by attacking, stinging with words or worse. Bottom line: Each situation is different. Sometimes you are dealing with a horse; sometimes, with a colony of bees. Sometimes you need to in front, leading the way, staying out of the muck. Sometimes you need to be in back, following, observing, moving carefully and gently. In any case, the wisdom lies in choosing the place that honors the situation and keeps you safe. 

And a third lesson: If you are with the farm dog, just try to keep up! Enjoy the walk, have a little fun, follow his nose, and go places together!

 
Horse and beehive!

June 16, 2023

Hair


I’m sure I fretted about my hair when I was in high school, but I don’t much remember it. I had a basic style, parted on the side, tucked behind my ears, and teased a bit on the top and back, probably lots of hair spray! In college, I let it grow long. After that, somewhere along the way I adopted a kind of page-boy with a side part, and that was my hair style for a long, long time. I didn’t fuss with it, just wash and dry, regular trims, no big deal. Then I had to have chemo, and suddenly my hair – or its impending loss -- seemed like a very big deal. When it started to come out, my friend shaved my head. I got a wig, but mostly I wore scarves that the women at my church taught me to tie. When my hair grew back, I left it short. And after a second round of chemo a dozen years after the first, it stayed short, a basic wash-and-go style. 

For all of my lack of expertise with hair-styling, I’ve had some notable experiences over the years. When they were in high school, two of my young friends asked me to do their hair for prom, and it turned out fine (miracle of miracles!). One of those young women later asked me to do her hair for her wedding day. We practiced in advance, and I was able to do what she wanted. And then, she got her hair cut before the wedding. My heart was in my throat as I was figuring out what to do, but it all worked out somehow. She was beautiful, and she would have been beautiful regardless of what I did with her hair! 

Several months ago, I started “fixing” Mama’s hair after she shampooed it. As I got more practice and was doing okay with it, I felt a little more confidence. And then she could not make her last salon appointment, so I got out my good fabric scissors and cut it. It isn’t perfect, but it isn’t awful either. 

I am mindful of her hair and thankful that I can help her with it. And I am thankful, too, that Jesus is also mindful of it. “Even the hairs of your head are all counted,” he says, and it comforts me to know that he is paying even more attention to her hair than I am!

 

June 13, 2023

Funeral Procession


I officiated at a funeral last week. The drive from the funeral home to the cemetery was almost 30 miles, and we slowly drove. It was a lovely day, driving by corn fields and blueberry farms, small churches, general stores, and crossroads. There is a custom here -- and maybe elsewhere, too -- that drivers meeting a funeral procession pull over and stop. Not everyone does that, but many do. On Friday as we made our way to the cemetery, people driving tractors, work trucks, cars, and pickups pulled over until we passed. This little tribute is very moving to me, total strangers pausing to honor the dead. Maybe it is an acknowledgement, too, that we will all end our days, and that we would hope for others to stop and honor our lives. And I was reminded of some lines of poetry: 

Because I could not stop for Death – 
He kindly stopped for me – 
The Carriage held but just Ourselves – 
And Immortality. 

We slowly drove –  He knew no haste 
And I had put away 
My labor and my leisure too, 
For His Civility – 
 … 
Emily Dickinson

 

May 29, 2023

The Dove of Peace


This week we celebrated Pentecost at our little country church. Many folks wore red, we had red candles, red pinwheels, red vestments, red paraments. And then after worship, we had lunch with a red velvet (birthday!) cake with candles. It was a wonderful way to remember and claim the gift of the Holy Spirit. 

My sermon was ready early in the week. Our mother has had some health issues that have caused a lot of worry and uncertainty in our household, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to lead worship on Sunday. Here is part of what I prepared in advance and was able to preach on the Day of Pentecost: 

It is the Spirit that comes into the chaos of our times, when we don’t know exactly what to do, when we feel lost. The Holy Spirit is God in our souls; it is Christ in our lives. It is what gets us up and gets us going in the morning. It is what sings us to sleep at night. It is that part of God in Christ that cares for us, comforts us, calls us, and challenges us. When life seems chaotic, as it often does, when you don’t know what to do, when you feel like you are losing your grip, losing your way, losing your faith – look for the Holy Spirit. Look for the dove of peace.
 
And then on Saturday, the day before Pentecost, a white dove appeared in our yard. We live in the country, and there are lots of birds around, and I’ve seen a lot of mourning doves, but I have never seen a white dove here. My brother thinks it is a pigeon, one that was raised for racing and just got lost. But I worked in a city and I know pigeons –this is not a pigeon. 

When I wrote what I did (“….When you don’t know what to do… look for the dove…”) I don’t know that I really took that seriously. But the dove has been here for three days now. And it feels like the presence of the Spirit. It feels like a blessing from God. It feels like peace. I still don’t know what to do. It feels that we are still dealing with chaos and uncertainty, and at times we feel lost. But the Spirit is with us. And if it took a lost pigeon to make that point, then so be it. Thanks be to God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!

 

February 27, 2023

Happy Birthday, Baby Brother!

I remember the day you came home from the hospital. Mama was in the front bedroom (which is now mine) in bed with you nestled in beside her. I was so excited to meet you! I remember running to the kitchen and back to bring a glass of water to Mama, but maybe to you! And I loved you with an undying love. Until at about six months old…. when you pulled the eye off my teddy bear! And Jane and I put you in our doll cribs and played with you like you were a baby doll. And then we had you join in our elaborate “Judy and Sandra” and “Miss Lane and Miss Vane” games. You were either Tommy (our child?) or our dog. You didn’t care – you just played with us! 

We have had lots of adventures over the years (some that involved stitches and switches!) and they have not ended. We love you, baby brother, and give thanks for your life!

 

February 22, 2023

Ash Wednesday

This is my land that I hold in my hand. 
But not mine – rather all who came before – 
 known to me and natives here eons ago. 

And not mine but all who come after – 
unknown to me – 
 ones I cannot instruct or control who will do as they will with this dirt, this place. 

May it grow food and flowers for them; 
 ground them in grass wet with dew; 
 harbor earthworms; 
 hatch dragonflies; 
 form a basin for puddles when it rains a century from now. 

May it form a basin for me, 
when I lay down my ashes, 
 when I live out the prophecy of ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

May I become one with this land, this earth, this dirt. 

May my soul, spirit, dirt 
nourish generations to come, 
those I do not know and never will. 

And yet they will know me 
and they will hold me in their hand. 

I will be part of the land – theirs and mine.

 

February 19, 2023

January 30

January 30 was a lovely day, warm and sunny.  I looked out the kitchen window and saw that the first breath of spring was blooming.  It is a lovely shrub that puts out small white flowers with the sweetest fragrance, very, very early in the year.  So I cut branches and brought them inside.

January 30 was also the day my sister-in-law died.

First breath of spring, and last breath of Janet.

Rest in peace, sweet sister.  We love you.

November 20, 2022

"Every Animal is God's Pet"

We are thankful for and blessed by the animals in our lives. We share the house with three cats; Buddy is becoming a true farm dog, roaming outdoors (to the limits of his invisible fence…). And there are the horse, the goats, the chickens, the bees. 

We are responsible for their care and feeding. They need hooves trimmed, feed mixed, mite treatment, daily feeding. But we are also responsible for a relationship with them: snuggling on the couch, playing frisbee in the yard, feeding horse treats, talking to the goats and the chickens and even the bees. It is a precious connection. As we care for them, so they care for us. 

On Sunday, the minister asked the children what they were thankful for, and one said animals. And my great-niece then observed that “every animal is God’s pet.” In God's kingdom, every animal is loved and cared for, every animal is precious in God’s eyes, every animal is a holy creature, a beautiful part of creation. Amen, Hattie B!