Weeds become flowers

Sometimes, even when life is full of blessings, the difficult parts threaten to overwhelm.  Worries and

fears crowd in, obscuring almost everything else.  It happens to us all, Scripture reminds us, and it

happened recently to a dear friend of mine. Plowing through the tough times is hard work. It is often in those most difficult times that God is most visibly at work.  Sometimes the work of God involves removing the source of fear and anxiety, and sometimes God’s work is inside us, helping us walk through one more day in the valley.

These things were on my mind the other day when I came across the following poem by Joyce Rupp. She manages to speak so much truth and hope in these few sentences.

How I love it

when what I’ve known

as a weed

in me

suddenly becomes

a beautiful flower.

How I delight

when the rejected part

of me

becomes my friend.

How I cherish

the struggles

that change

my inner enemies

into my beloved friends.

Sally for Pope?

When I arrived at church this morning, I announced to all who were within earshot my official intention to run for Pope. Well, actually, my announcement may have involved the term “Pope-ette.”  For some reason, no one felt a need to offer to help me pack up my office in anticipation of my move to the Vatican.  

Ignoring my audience’s lack of enthusiasm, I went into my office to start typing my resume. I saw the message light on my phone, a call from someone I haven’t seen in a long, long time. My curiousity was piqued, and I returned the call.  This person was calling to apologize for a very minor slight that was over a decade old.  Frankly, at the time I had understood the person’s actions and had taken no offense. I was touched deeply by this person’s willingness to find me and call me after all of these years.  The rest of the phone call was getting caught back up on the many events in our families’ lives in the intervening years.  What a delightful gift to begin the week!

On further reflection, I hereby renounce my candidacy for the papacy.  This life that I have the privilege of living is too full of unexpected blessings to trade it in on some other life.  Someone else can wear the nifty hats and run the Vatican, I am thankful today to be exactly where God has put me.

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.

"Santa drives my bus"

“I think Santa is my bus driver,” the child whispered to Mrs. Claus.  It was Saturday morning, and the jolly old elf was sitting in the sanctuary of First UMC with a line of children waiting to see him.  Mrs. Claus smiled knowingly at the child and pulled the child closer for a private conversation.

I think it’s lovely that Santa is skilled not only at driving a sleigh drawn by reindeer, but also a yellow school bus full of children. Who better to entrust our children’s safety each morning? In fact, I know for a fact that Santa doesn’t only drive a school bus. Santa can also be seen teaching school.  He works in the pediatric ward of a hospital.  Santa is the one who works with young people to teach them to build a fire or learn life skills.  He organizes youth to rake leaves for a disabled neighbor. Sometimes, Santa is in the form of a trusted adult who listens to a hurting child. At other times, Santa is dressed in a helmet and thick suit as he fights a fire. Santa can look the emergency responder who pulls an injured child out of a vehicle. Or the staff working with at-risk young people, like those people at Spofford and other agencies. Most often, Santa looks a lot like parents, worrying and praying and loving their children through life as best as they can.

Yes, Santa drives your school bus.  In fact, I have a hunch that it’s Santa who’s at work anytime someone helps a child.  Keep an eye out, and you just might catch a glimpse of a twinkling eye or hear a soft “ho, ho, ho” in unexpected places.  He’s out there, every time a child is shown love. Really, he’s there every time we take seriously the words of The One whose holiday it truly is:  “Let the little children come to me.”