My Kind Of Day

 

 

 Cookies for friends and neighbors.

I got the recipes from this site... inchmark.

 

Come December I will have been a mother for four years.  BB and I made invitations today.  It is a construction cone, not a candy corn (given the season I understand the mistake.)

I wish you days full of your greatest joys.

If Facebook Was Working...

these would have been my updates for the week.

got her newsletter article in with time to spare AND had actual activities planned.
(but just realized she missed the Sunday bulletin deadline.  Sigh. The secretary can't figure out to put things in from week to week without explicit direction.)

is really wondering why she needed to be at that meeting.

would like to start a fire under some people's bottoms.

enjoyed the museum field trip, but it made for a really chaotic day.

was so thankful for the final (?) fall picnic.  (really needs to cut back on trips to Panera.)

scheduling with cars require more communication with husband.  New tires will be nice.

enjoying a free morning to cook a meal for a family from church and their new baby.

took a trip to the children's museum on a rainy day.  Chipotle and free play...all good things.

not sure I want to tackle the turtle costume.  Kids keep waffling on what they want to be...some of their ideas are easier on me than others.

Whoa, Nellie...need to get a plan on for November and December.

I can't make this stuff up.

BB is following his sister around the playroom.  I am in the computer room and I can only hear what is going on.  I hear toys being tossed and moved around and EG chatting a little.  Then out of the blue, BB begins to ask EG, "What you thinking about God?"  (sentence goes up at the end and he is using his "teacher" voice.)  He continues to follow her around asking this question.  Over and over.  I don't hear her responding.  (Geez, when did my brother go to evangelism school?)

Then BB changes tactics.  "Want to praise him?" (really high voice, still an up talker)  He asks this a few times and then says, "Want to thank him for all those things we think about..."

"Are you thinking about giving him cookies?"

For the first time I hear her enter the conversation.  "Yes.  God give cookies."

"Where did I go?"

My husband's great aunt died on Friday morning.  She was 95 years old and is best remembered by me for these three things.
1. Hosting the most delightful lunch I've ever been to...
2. while serving the worst food ever.
3. Being a prolific letter writer.  She set the bar high.

She lived most of her life with her mother, my husband's Great Grandma Christine.  At this point I can not remember what she did for a profession but I believe she styled hair.  In her later years she moved back to her hometown but before she moved we visited her in the home my husband remembers visiting as a child.

As I said, it was the most delightful of visits.  She possessed an energy, humor and just a glimmer of mischief that is so rare in my husband's gene pool that any amount is gift rather than vice. At one point during our visit she talked about how she kept her mind sharp (she was about 86 when this took place) and demonstrated a "game" she played with herself.

Out of the blue she said to me, "Where did I go?"  ("ah, what do I do with this?" I wondered, trying keep up...my husband had no clue what was up so he was clearly no help.)
"I'm not sure...where are you?"  I offer, (probably using my voice reserved for my parishioners who are on the third go around of the same story.)
"He, he...it is kind of like 'I spy'.  I pretend that I pop into a photo or drawing and wander around thinking about what is happening.  I'm having fun where I am , so guess, where am I?"
"I don't know."
"He, he up there above your head.  Ooops, now I've popped over to that one."

Seriously, this is how it went.  I loved it. She was absolutely delightful.  (and, well, let's be honest, the woman couldn't cook, it really was the worst meal ever.  When I said this to my husband, he replied, "Were you there for that burnt Cornish hen thing?  Yep, that was me, although mine was raw.)

For the next nine years she would be our most reliable source for handwritten letters.  Long, detailed letters about what she was up to--church choir, hair styling at the nursing home, misc. church woman's events, travel to see her younger siblings...on and on.  She remembered our birthdays, she wrote in response to our letters, she sent out Christmas cards and gifts, she sent birth cards and gifts...and then about three years ago the letters began to repeat themselves.  Then about a year ago, they stopped all together.

I had meant to write her time and time again in the last year (although I heard that the mail confused her more than helped and added to her list of people to respond to.)  I thought of her often.

She was a delightful addition to my extended family and I will miss her.  Thankfully, we have shoeboxes full of letters.

Sermon Mark 10:35-45

I don't usually post until after I have preached, but what the heck...in one way or another this is what I am preaching tomorrow.
(for some reason the formatting isn't working as I would have it.  Sorry.)

Elizabeth was 15 when she first went to a hospital and her first visit was to see her grandmother.  As she walked down the halls her parents prepared her for what grandma would look like.  They talked about what stage three cancer meant to someone in their late 80’s.  Upon entrance in her grandma’s room, Elizabeth was overcome by this machines and lines attached to her grandma.  Her grandma was ever the realist, and within minutes of their sitting down, she had off offhandedly remarked that the “end was near” and that she was "going to go home to die.”  It was just shortly after Grandma said, that she was "looking forward to seeing her husband again soon", that Elizabeth, in a fit of adrenaline, asked if she could have her car.

In the weeks following this poorly worded visit, her grandmother will come to live with her and Elizabeth will inherit not only grandmother’s car, but many other lessons.  She will come to see her humor, her strength; she will achieve the perfect apple crisp, and dumpling soup.  She will sit and learn a bit about her family’s story as they flip through photo albums.  Years later she will remain a bit embarrassed by her flippant remark, but her true inheritance remains her source of greatest joy.  It grounds her to her past and guides who she wishes to be in life.

While we all know it is inevitable, we all handle death differently.  Perhaps the most unsettling is those moments when people are honest about it.  Direct and forthright.  Most of us would rather live in denial or, are just so busy with life to ponder anything else. 

We might grant the disciples some grace…when we meet up with them today in Mark’s gospel.  They are somewhere outside Jericho, just over 30 miles from their destination of Jerusalem…Jesus will heal a blind man and then he will enter Jerusalem for the last time.  For the third time he has told his beloved what the plan is.  Again, he tells of how he will turn the world upside down.  The last shall be first.  The first will be slaves.  Rich shall be like children.

He’s talking to his disciples about his death and they are asking if they can have the family car.

Jesus, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.  Who among hasn’t prayed that prayer?

Who among us hasn’t made that demand?  Who among us hasn’t fallen into the theological trap that tries to tell us Christianity is only about getting into heaven?

We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.  What is it you want me to do for you?

What do we want?  What shall we ask for today?

To be right?  To live longer?  To have more love?  To be more popular?  To get ahead?  To be God’s favorite?

We don’t know what we are saying anymore than those sons of Zebedee did…James and John, perhaps jazzed up on adrenaline, can’t take in what Jesus has said.  In verse 33 Jesus tells them that they are going to Jerusalem and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priest and he will be condemned to death.  He will be mocked, spit on, flogged, and killed.  And in three days he will rise again.  

It isn’t the first time they have heard such a claim.  No matter how many times he tells them…they just can’t wrap their minds around it.  …it really isn’t something you can understand.  Until it happens.  And even then you can only process it by faith.  No wonder they skip over the claim…I’ll cut them some slack and assume it was some coping mechanism that wouldn’t allow them to fully understand what death would mean to them.  After all, I get self centeredness.  I understand jumping right to how a situation will impact me…verses fully staying with the moment.  Thinking about how it affects others, or the larger picture.  I get that.

Jesus pushes them a bit further.  Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?  Can you really walk in my shoes?  “Oh, yes…yes.”  Perhaps it is denial like I have suggested or perhaps it is sure and certain faith that whatever comes, Jesus will be in charge, and that is enough to make them sign up.

What they miss is that Jesus isn’t just preparing them for the logistics of the coming days.  He’s handing down their inheritance as well.

Jesus isn’t leaving the world the same way he found it.  It isn’t just a matter of the bad people being kicked out, or the unjust getting their punishment.  It isn’t that Jesus’ followers will take over in wealth, prosperity and power.  They won’t simply slip in to the seats of the previous rulers and kings.

We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.  “Ok,” Jesus says, “ok…you can have what is coming to you, my beloved children, my faithful followers…you may have your inheritance.”

Is everyone fed?  Do those children have coats?  Have you stopped by the nursing home?  Or the shelter?  How are the cancer patients?  How about that group that came down with malaria?  HIV?  Are you listening to the questions people are asking?  Have you looked beyond your backyard?  Are babies still growing up in orphanages?  Are teens still giving themselves away to drugs and alcohol and their boyfriends and girlfriends?  My beloved, does everyone have what they need?  Do they know…do they know they are loved?

This, this life of service and being bound to the other, it is yours.  It is what Jesus gives us.  As gift.  As power—new and different as it is.  It is ours.

Yes, yes, I know.  We’d rather have the family car.  Even if your family’s car didn’t offer prestige or power it always had in implied message of freedom and doing whatever you wanted.

But that’s not what Jesus is offering us.  Christianity isn’t about getting what we want.  It isn’t about getting ahead.  It isn’t about who you know.  It isn’t an insurance policy to protect us from sin, or mistakes or illness…or death.  It doesn’t keep us from messing up or hurting people.  It isn’t even solely about getting into heaven.

It is about finding our way back to who we were created to be in the first place.  It is about being connected to our God who created us and knows us and longs for us to be healthy.  It is about having purpose and intentionality.  It is about being connected….to each other, to strangers, to friends and family, to the earth…to God.

And what God gives us, is a new world order.  Our inheritance is the gift of knowing our place in the world…

We can’t help but hear servant, slave through the filter of our culture and context.  I can’t help but pastorally to offer this disclaimer…Jesus isn’t calling you accept abuse, or to stay in a violent controlling situation, God didn’t create you for that...But our place in the world isn’t as center star, either.

The way the world is, isn’t the way it will be.  But our inheritance remains, and it is given for each of us.  Consider the other.  Listen when someone speaks.  Look at what they need.  Focus your time not on your anxiety or fear, but on what is holding others back from being who God created them to be.

Inheritances can be life changing.  They can root us to the past and give us a more secure future.  They also help us understand who we are.  What we come from can shape who we will be.  You and I share an inheritance…one that reminds us…

That we drink from the same cup, we are baptized in the same waters and we servants of each other…we collect this gift at the foot of the cross.  Working and waiting for the world to turn upside down.

Kids Hide

I was reminded today of a little girl, no more that four or five, who caused an bit of a stir in her neighborhood once. 

You see, she was tired. She found a nice bag of potting soil and placed her head upon it. She curled up outside.  The birds chirped around her.  The breeze gently rocked the blanket above her.  The sunshine warmed the little fort room she had found.  She slept.

Outside her mother searched frantically.  Neighbor doors were knocked.  Men began to search the street.  They called out for her.  Too much time passed.  After awhile they feared the worst.

Then someone went through the backyard one more time.  Someone with a mind like a child.  He, too, saw the fort and lifted the blanket to looked under the jungle gym.

He reached in and woke a girl who only knew that she was sleepy.

Re-entry

A week ago today, I flew to my home state of Minnesota. Many months ago two of the bloggers I read both posted that they would be speaking at this conference. Right then and there I decided I would be attending. I may or may not have discussed it with my husband...my memory is a little fuzzy on that point. And as grace would have it every logistical decision fell into place. Plane flights, car rides, friends and family schedules...it all clicked. So much so that my Norwegian spirit had me convinced the plane would crash. No one gets to have it this good, do they?

I stayed with my godfather and while the loss is palpable, it was also obvious we are finding a new normal. I drove her car. I tried on clothes and stuffed my suitcase. I saw my parents. I strolled the places I love. I drove familiar roads. I spent time with a friend who knows my back story. Knew me when. And I attended a conference.

I haven't been at a professional conference in three years. I couldn't have been more isolated from the conference attendees if I had been Hindu. In fact that might have actually worked better. Let's just say no one else was wearing a pink turtleneck from Talbots circa 2000. While my vibe in new settings is often "stay away." I have matured and could have talked with others. I really was open to the idea...but no one spoke to me. I spoke to no one.

(except for an awkward stalking of one my favorite bloggers...but I'm going to put that out of my mind in hopes that she forgets we ever met.)

What is ironic to me is that this group of people who speak so lovely and passionately about the church opening up have created for themselves a network of insiders, a culture that has its own 'type and stereotype.' The event was created in some part, for friends, by friends and it felt that way. It seemed everyone knew everyone else. And upon further investigation some very "big" names were there...I just thought they were people staffing tables and organizing registration.

In every other circle I walk in, I have power. I am in the know. I know the person who knows the person. People even know who I am and what I am capable of.

This white, female, denominationally rooted, married, child bearing, pastor was on the outside looking in.

The conference was outstanding. The reminder of how "church" feels to those on the other side was an added benefit.

See, it was a good weekend. Thank God that plane didn't crash.

What must I do?

My report back from the Sabbatical Weekend begins with instruction to head over to Sarcastic Lutheran to check out her sermon from yesterday.

Do you want to hear about...

when I realized members of my youth group are 27 years old?

how I decided not to report how many people attended events at church in my council report?

how much I love watching tv on the internet? (this would include my thoughts on how tv is letting me down this season.)

the realization and subsequent mourning over the fact my baby is my last one...and that she's not a baby?

how my friend almost outed this blog? (and what blogging in private means)

You tell I what you want to hear about. ;) (not a grammatical typo, a favorite phrase BB uses...)

All is well with my life.

The same can not be said for many of my friends. Giving thanks for how we have enough strength for each other in our own time. Without these people in my own life during past phases, I could never have written out the heading to this post. Hoping to be of some use and comfort.

Be kind, because everyone you come across is fighting a great battle.

On any given day...

this is what my living room looks like. Apparently, it is a camp ground. BB could tell you what each item is (meant to be). He had to move a "lamp" to find a place for EG to sit. Both EG and I looked at him with patient curiosity. "ah, what lamp?"

Turns out that her fisher price play house was doing double time as a "lamp" in this campground. And apprently it was very heavy because it took him a looooonnnnngggg time to lift it. (Remember this was moved so that EG could have a place to sit.)

Trying not to see a mess I need to clean up (or rather, enforce clean up of) and give thanks for such imagination.

Five on Friday

1. I'm happy for Rio.
2. Is any one actually shocked that David Letterman had sex with co-workers? (beyond the fact they had sex with David Letterman.)
3. I completely fell off the exercise wagon this week.
4. My mind went blank when a parishioner wondered why it was important for Jesus to be fully divine as well as fully human.
5. I am behind on thank you notes.

Concern

It should be noted that no one has expressed concern over the fact I went hunting for tp in my holiday decorations.

Concern has been expressed over the fact I found these decorations cute in the first place.

To that concern I offer this defense...think batiked/beautiful fall fabric and a real wood stem. It all gets better. (also we put newspaper around the tp roll so it wasn't so "I used a roll of toilet paper to make this.") This photo was merely placed there to add some color and help for the visual learners among us.


p.s. BB just walked in and with the most sincere voice said, "Pumpkins! Hoooow diiid they DO that?" He likes them.