The Person Driving Your Log

My mom was sharing a great memory with me the other day at lunch. It actually was a near-death experience. She and my father, who was then Country Director for the Peace Corps in Belize, were visiting some PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) in a remote location that required boat travel across the lake. The boat that they found themselves in was a hollowed-out log with a motor. In their boat were a driver and a US military person, apparently to provide security for the Country Director of the Peace Corps (aka my father).

As my pareants prepared to leave the remote village to return to their home in Belmopan, a local warned them about setting out in the weather. (Lesson #1: Always pay attention to locals when they offer weather advice.) They saw only clear skies and had somewhere else they needed to be, so they left.  Shortly after leaving, the weather did indeed kick up, and my parents found themselves in the middle of the lake in a serious storm. The armed soldier didn’t really come in handy while my parents clung to the bottom of the boat and prayed to get safely to the other side. 

Much about this narrative will likely lend itself to a future sermon, probably about when Jesus walked on water and calmed the waves. Right now, though, I’m most taken with how my mother described their harrowing escape from this storm.  “The person who was driving our log decided to go full force through the storm to get to the other side.”   

Yes, there is plenty of sermon fodder in the imagery of moving forward through a storm until you have made it through. But, “the person who was driving our log???” It’s just not a phrase you hear all that often, especially sitting around the dining table in Kansas City.  It just made me smile.

So- should you find yourself in a log in the middle of a stormy lake- or anywhere else you never really thought you’d find yourself- may you always have a good log driver.

Good enough

Today was make-up day for Mandatory Boundaries Training, an every-four-year event for clergy in Missouri. I’m a big fan of the event, knowing how important it is for us clergy to be reminded to take very, very good care of the tender souls entrusted to us.  

I had missed the original date due to the death of my father, so I spent much of the two-hour drive to Columbia on Friday remembering some favorite things about him. I re-told myself stories that he had told me, and I remembered his gentle pride in each of his children.  I cried some on the drive, but never enough to be hazardous to my driving or my make-up.  When I arrived at the Conference Office at the right time, I knew something was wrong. The parking lot was mostly empty.  Mildly embarrassed, I walked into the office and asked the receptionist if she knew where the Boundary Training was.  She responded by getting up, walking into the central area of all of the Conference Staff offices, and yelling, “Hey, there’s a woman here who is looking for Boundary Training.”  My embarrassment was completed when someone yelled back that the event was Saturday, not Friday.  (Did I mention that I drove over there on Friday morning?)

My mistake in recording the date on my calendar turned into a gift.  I went Mother of the Groom dress shopping in Columbia with a friend and found The Perfect Dress. So did she, for a different wedding. I got to see my daughter perform admirably in her Mock Trial competition at Mizzou, and I had a great evening staying with my friend in her parsonage.  

I arrived at the Mandatory Boundary Training today refreshed, having only had to drive across town this morning.  Other than being stuck inside on a rare mild winter day, it was a good day.  I got to know some pretty cool colleagues a little better.  The speaker reminded us of the grace that helps us to handle the many burdens of ministry, even while she called us to strong accountability for the people in our care.  When we’re dealing with difficult situations or people, we still seek the places of grace. Or, as she imagines saying in her head to a troublesome person, “Even though you’re being a jerk, you’re still a child of God.”  I’ve spent a lot longer in trainings and learned a lot less, so it was a good enough day.

I’ll do my best to remember that it really is all about grace, and about how we’re all children of God in spite of how we might act sometimes. And that none of us is perfect, even us pastors.  And when someone points out my imperfections, calendar-wise or otherwise, I’ll remember that we’re all of us just children of God, and that’s enough.