This coming Labor Day, Andy and I will be doing one of those first-time-ever things: we will be meeting our future son-in-law’s parents. We like The Boy a whole lot. Given our firm belief that no one will ever be good enough for our children, he comes awfully close. Best of all (as observed by one of our children) isn’t just how he is when he is around us, but how our daughter is when she is around him. She is herself, but more so, in kind of a glow-y happy way. We are thrilled that he is with our daughter, and I am practicing already being the type of mother-in-law that I want to be.
I am just now coming to understand, though, that he does not come to us in isolation. He brings a family of his own, and we will be meeting them in a few days. In my church, I have one of these extended families. The now-married children met in our church as youth, and both sets of parents are part of this congregation. There are now young grandchildren in the mix, and it’s always fun to watch the grandparent/grandchildren reunions that occur weekly in the sanctuary. The grandparents laughingly refer to their relationship to each other, not as in-laws, but as outlaws.
I am getting a little nervous about our pending meeting, to my surprise. This new relationship will be important, and I wonder what it will be like. I know some things about them already. I know their professions and some of their interests. They live in a town about 5 hours away. I know some other, more important things about them. They are kind to my daughter and have welcomed her into their home. They raised a son who graduated college with honors, and who cares about those who are less fortunate than himself. And he loves my daughter, treats her well, and brings out the best in her.
Inlaws or outlaws, it doesn’t really matter to me. I know what to call them already: “family.”
Monday, August 29, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Almost
I almost died last week, I think. I was at a meeting in Nashville and had gone out for a morning walk. Needing to cross a very busy downtown street, I pushed the button to wait for the walk signal. I kept waiting as the cars whizzed by on the narrow street, their wheels nudging the curb. As I waited for what seemed like an interminably long light, I had time to be amazed at how fast Nashville drivers went on such a crowded street.
Finally, I saw the pedestrian across the street from me begin to cross. And thereby was my near-fatal mistake. I looked at him walking across the street and assumed that the light had changed. My foot swung into the street, into the path of oncoming traffic. At the last nanosecond before my weight shifted and I was committed to following that foot into the street, I realized that the cars were still coming at top speed. I fell backwards as a car barely grazed my shin. The light had not changed, but the man across the street had decided to duck between the cars. He looked at me oddly as I staggered, trying to regain my balance and my breath. And then he kept walking on his way.
How could I be so careless? My problem was that, only for a moment, I looked at the actions of the person across from me, rather than the light itself. Seems like that’s probably not the first time someone has gotten into trouble for that exact same reason. . .
Finally, I saw the pedestrian across the street from me begin to cross. And thereby was my near-fatal mistake. I looked at him walking across the street and assumed that the light had changed. My foot swung into the street, into the path of oncoming traffic. At the last nanosecond before my weight shifted and I was committed to following that foot into the street, I realized that the cars were still coming at top speed. I fell backwards as a car barely grazed my shin. The light had not changed, but the man across the street had decided to duck between the cars. He looked at me oddly as I staggered, trying to regain my balance and my breath. And then he kept walking on his way.
How could I be so careless? My problem was that, only for a moment, I looked at the actions of the person across from me, rather than the light itself. Seems like that’s probably not the first time someone has gotten into trouble for that exact same reason. . .
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Laryngitis
Andy and I seem to have picked up a bug on our flights home. (My office staff has helpfully said I have “kennel cough,” from the flying kennels in the sky.) This morning, my throat was sore and my voice was gone.
Tuesday is usually my day for meetings, and being voiceless gave me a different perspective on the day. During a morning conference call, I listened as the conversation swirled around me. A member of my staff did an excellent job running the weekly staff meetings, while I added only a few whispered comments. By drinking lots of hot tea and using a restaurant-soft voice, I was able to converse across a table at lunch with a colleague. That conversation was enjoyable but perhaps a mistake, as my voice has skittered away once more. And so I am sitting here nursing my throat and consigned once again to listening more than speaking.
The racking coughs are annoying, as is having to wave wildly to catch someone’s attention. I can’t ask the dog if he wants to go out or ask a child to bring me a glass of water. (Nor can I interrupt an ongoing conversation, which is probably the most annoying thing of all.) There is a gathering tonight that I really wanted to attend, but I realize that I shouldn’t expose some of my favorite people to whatever gluck I have. Therefore, I’ll sit at home tonight, gesticulating wildly to the dog, the children, the husband, and probably even the television by the time the night is over.
On the plus side, I’ll get to practice the art of listening. My son has made me fresh vegetable soup, a blessed gift from him before he moves to Seattle next week. I will have an unexpected night at home, which is always a luxury. There are worse things than being a voiceless preacher . . . for a little while.
Tuesday is usually my day for meetings, and being voiceless gave me a different perspective on the day. During a morning conference call, I listened as the conversation swirled around me. A member of my staff did an excellent job running the weekly staff meetings, while I added only a few whispered comments. By drinking lots of hot tea and using a restaurant-soft voice, I was able to converse across a table at lunch with a colleague. That conversation was enjoyable but perhaps a mistake, as my voice has skittered away once more. And so I am sitting here nursing my throat and consigned once again to listening more than speaking.
The racking coughs are annoying, as is having to wave wildly to catch someone’s attention. I can’t ask the dog if he wants to go out or ask a child to bring me a glass of water. (Nor can I interrupt an ongoing conversation, which is probably the most annoying thing of all.) There is a gathering tonight that I really wanted to attend, but I realize that I shouldn’t expose some of my favorite people to whatever gluck I have. Therefore, I’ll sit at home tonight, gesticulating wildly to the dog, the children, the husband, and probably even the television by the time the night is over.
On the plus side, I’ll get to practice the art of listening. My son has made me fresh vegetable soup, a blessed gift from him before he moves to Seattle next week. I will have an unexpected night at home, which is always a luxury. There are worse things than being a voiceless preacher . . . for a little while.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Unplugged
The gift of vacation is always a wonderful thing. Now that our children are beginning to go their separate ways, our time all together is even more precious. This year, as always, was a wonderful mix of reacquainting ourselves with old memories even as we created new memories.
Part of what makes this time “vacation” for me is leaving my computer at home. For almost three weeks, I did not access email, voicemail, Facebook, or Google. I was unplugged. When I put away the computer before leaving town, I had a brief moment of panic. What if something monumental happened, and I missed it? What about all of the everyday connections that occur through these mediums? How would I access needed information without Google?
Here’s is what happened: nothing. My almost-three-weeks of internet unconnectedness did not harm my life in any way. True, there was a time when we were all watching television together and wondered whatever happened to one of the stars. Without immediate access to the answer, we wondered a little longer than we would have otherwise, but we survived.
Here is something else that happened: I got bored. There was no internet to surf idly, no word games to play, no news stories to read besides the morning paper. It has been a long time since I was truly bored, and I discovered that I liked it. I started conversations with real humans. I picked up books and sat still long enough to read them. I went walking. I watched the clouds shift in the sky. I thought thoughts that had nothing to do with much of anything. Being bored occasionally is a good thing, I remembered. If we don’t create empty spaces every now and then, how will new things find their way into our lives?
I’m back now, and re-plugged. It’s good to be reconnecting with my world, my work, and my friends. I am thankful for the many important relationships that I have, and I am thankful for new ways that this era gives us to connect with one another. I am thankful, also, for the chance to drop off the grid every now and then.
Part of what makes this time “vacation” for me is leaving my computer at home. For almost three weeks, I did not access email, voicemail, Facebook, or Google. I was unplugged. When I put away the computer before leaving town, I had a brief moment of panic. What if something monumental happened, and I missed it? What about all of the everyday connections that occur through these mediums? How would I access needed information without Google?
Here’s is what happened: nothing. My almost-three-weeks of internet unconnectedness did not harm my life in any way. True, there was a time when we were all watching television together and wondered whatever happened to one of the stars. Without immediate access to the answer, we wondered a little longer than we would have otherwise, but we survived.
Here is something else that happened: I got bored. There was no internet to surf idly, no word games to play, no news stories to read besides the morning paper. It has been a long time since I was truly bored, and I discovered that I liked it. I started conversations with real humans. I picked up books and sat still long enough to read them. I went walking. I watched the clouds shift in the sky. I thought thoughts that had nothing to do with much of anything. Being bored occasionally is a good thing, I remembered. If we don’t create empty spaces every now and then, how will new things find their way into our lives?
I’m back now, and re-plugged. It’s good to be reconnecting with my world, my work, and my friends. I am thankful for the many important relationships that I have, and I am thankful for new ways that this era gives us to connect with one another. I am thankful, also, for the chance to drop off the grid every now and then.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Washing Sheets and Towels
This summer, I’ve been washing lots of sheets and towels. (Wait . . . I promise, this blog is not about my personal hygiene.) With our children all in college and beyond, our house is less their “home” and more their “home base.” Between family and friends, this summer we have had an additional 8 people sleeping in various beds at various times. This flux of people in and out of our house has been fun, and it has also meant that I’ve been washing sheets and towels with great frequency. Along the way, I have learned something: It is much easier to put clean sheets on a bed right after a guest leaves than to wait until a new guest is arriving. Being prepared for a guest at all times means that it is okay when I wake up in the morning and find an extra body in a bed that wasn’t there the night before.
One of the most important things a church can do is be prepared for guests at all times. I received an email this morning that broke my heart. A first-time visitor took the time to write me an email, describing why her first visit to our church would be her last visit. She did NOT mention the greeters, the coffee and donuts, the worship service, or the sermon. The thing that will keep her from coming back is the behavior of those persons sitting near her. They talked to each other (apparently, a whole lot) and not to her. It was not only that their conversation disrupted her ability to worship, but that she felt ignored after a polite comment to them. There is not a sermon in the world that is powerful enough to overcome that type of personal hurt.
The most dangerous thing that a church can be is “The Friendliest Church in the World . . . to Each Other.” I understand the temptation. I love church people, and I love seeing my church friends. It is definitely my preference to talk to people I know and like and haven’t seen for a week. Strangers can be, well, strange. And yet . . . I serve an institution that has a peculiar mission. We don’t exist for our members, but we exist for the people who do not know who we are. We exist for the people who walk in our doors and don’t know a soul. We exist for the people who drive past our building daily and aren’t sure why they’re feeling a glimpse of hope. We exist for the people who think that they wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.
I feel confident that the author of this email will be fine. If she feels invested enough in her search for a church home that she took the time to seek out my email address and compose a thoughtful message to me about her experience, she will persevere until she finds the right church for her. I am saddened, though, that we as a church failed to be ready for company. Our mission, while peculiar, is too important to ignore.
One of the most important things a church can do is be prepared for guests at all times. I received an email this morning that broke my heart. A first-time visitor took the time to write me an email, describing why her first visit to our church would be her last visit. She did NOT mention the greeters, the coffee and donuts, the worship service, or the sermon. The thing that will keep her from coming back is the behavior of those persons sitting near her. They talked to each other (apparently, a whole lot) and not to her. It was not only that their conversation disrupted her ability to worship, but that she felt ignored after a polite comment to them. There is not a sermon in the world that is powerful enough to overcome that type of personal hurt.
The most dangerous thing that a church can be is “The Friendliest Church in the World . . . to Each Other.” I understand the temptation. I love church people, and I love seeing my church friends. It is definitely my preference to talk to people I know and like and haven’t seen for a week. Strangers can be, well, strange. And yet . . . I serve an institution that has a peculiar mission. We don’t exist for our members, but we exist for the people who do not know who we are. We exist for the people who walk in our doors and don’t know a soul. We exist for the people who drive past our building daily and aren’t sure why they’re feeling a glimpse of hope. We exist for the people who think that they wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.
I feel confident that the author of this email will be fine. If she feels invested enough in her search for a church home that she took the time to seek out my email address and compose a thoughtful message to me about her experience, she will persevere until she finds the right church for her. I am saddened, though, that we as a church failed to be ready for company. Our mission, while peculiar, is too important to ignore.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Spirit
Last week was one of the most challenging sermons of the year. It was Pentecost, the day which we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit. The challenge, of course, is to speak aloud about the still, small voice that works within; to name the nudges; and to try to describe that part of God which is, by definition, indescribable. I spoke as best as I could about those things which are beyond words.
This week, I saw the power of the Holy Spirit in action. A member of my church had been working on a mission project last year and became aware of a need. Someone else was more gifted to fulfill that need, and so he thought nothing more about it. Until the nudges started. He sensed that the Holy Spirit was asking him to fulfill that need himself, to create something that he was completely untrained to create. After talking to his spouse and praying some more, he set out to do this task. He went to one place to get advice and supplies. The response: “There is no way you can do this without taking many of our classes over a long period of time.” He prayed some more and went somewhere else. This time, he heard, “Sure, you can do this.”
Yesterday, I stood in front of the completed project. It is incredible, by any standard of expertise. I have no doubt that it will change lives. I have a hunch it changed mine, just to be reminded of what the Holy Spirit can do when we pay attention. And say yes.
Some sermons are spoken with words. Often, the most powerful sermons are seen with actions.
This week, I saw the power of the Holy Spirit in action. A member of my church had been working on a mission project last year and became aware of a need. Someone else was more gifted to fulfill that need, and so he thought nothing more about it. Until the nudges started. He sensed that the Holy Spirit was asking him to fulfill that need himself, to create something that he was completely untrained to create. After talking to his spouse and praying some more, he set out to do this task. He went to one place to get advice and supplies. The response: “There is no way you can do this without taking many of our classes over a long period of time.” He prayed some more and went somewhere else. This time, he heard, “Sure, you can do this.”
Yesterday, I stood in front of the completed project. It is incredible, by any standard of expertise. I have no doubt that it will change lives. I have a hunch it changed mine, just to be reminded of what the Holy Spirit can do when we pay attention. And say yes.
Some sermons are spoken with words. Often, the most powerful sermons are seen with actions.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Leaders
Last night was an “oops” moment for me. (I hate those.) It was time for us to elect our church leaders for the 2011-2012 church year, a task that must be accomplished by a formal “Charge Conference.” I had been duly authorized by the DS to preside at this piece of official Methodism, and our agenda was limited –by church law, no less- to only the 1 item that had been announced. The Nominating Committee had done their work well, and we have a great set of incoming officers. My goal was to call the meeting to order, vote, and adjourn the meeting, so that we could resume the “normal programming” of our regular Church Council meeting. Which I did, in less than 5 minutes- my type of Charge Conference!
Except- that a handful of people went home after the Charge Conference. I had not thought about the fact that there were people who would show up for this part of the meeting alone. I had assumed that everyone else would share my own discomfort with officialdom. I was planning to thank the outgoing officers and welcome the incoming leaders at the end of the Church Council meeting, and so this faithful handful of people didn’t get to a chance to be a part of this well-deserved thanks. That oversight was my mistake, as thanks should always be extended as far and as wide as possible.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a leader in the church. The average church member doesn’t care what color we paint the walls, who will repair the a/c, who does the hiring, or who signs the checks. Nor should they have to. They DO care that these things be done correctly, and in line with our vision and values. But they don’t want to come to worship on Sunday mornings and be engaged in a congregational discussion of paint color. A “leader” in the church is the person who chooses to give of themselves and their time to care about these things on behalf of the congregation. Leaders choose to get together on weeknights to talk about which bank offers the best interest rates and what to do when Christmas falls on a Sunday and what to do about the siding on the building. It’s not particularly glamorous, nor does it always feel “spiritual.” And yet I am so deeply grateful to all of those who choose to give of themselves in this way.
Being a leader in church also means representing the church to all of the many places that a pastor cannot be. When a group of people is talking after worship or choir or Bible study about a question or a concern, a leader is the one who says, “Let me tell you how that decision was made,” or “You’re raising a good question, let me be the one to find out the answer and get back to you.” To be a church leader means that you forfeit the right to engage in gossip or bickering, because you have committed to be part of the solution to whatever challenges arise. You have chosen to focus on the future and to seek God’s guidance along with the rest of us.
Experts will tell you that there are many types of leaders. Often, the most important leaders do not hold elected office. They are the ones to whom all the eyes in the room turn when a new initiative is announced or a difficult decision needs to be made. FUMC is blessed with leaders of this type whose wonderful hearts ensure that we continue to move forward.
FUMC is blessed also with a strong group of leaders who have agreed to oversee the administrative affairs of the church. Next week, we are getting together at my house for 4 hours. My goal is to build community and trust, in addition to doing some training and study together. We have a great year ahead of us, and FUMC will be a better place because of these leaders. For which I am thankful. And I intend to say so at every opportunity I can!
Except- that a handful of people went home after the Charge Conference. I had not thought about the fact that there were people who would show up for this part of the meeting alone. I had assumed that everyone else would share my own discomfort with officialdom. I was planning to thank the outgoing officers and welcome the incoming leaders at the end of the Church Council meeting, and so this faithful handful of people didn’t get to a chance to be a part of this well-deserved thanks. That oversight was my mistake, as thanks should always be extended as far and as wide as possible.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a leader in the church. The average church member doesn’t care what color we paint the walls, who will repair the a/c, who does the hiring, or who signs the checks. Nor should they have to. They DO care that these things be done correctly, and in line with our vision and values. But they don’t want to come to worship on Sunday mornings and be engaged in a congregational discussion of paint color. A “leader” in the church is the person who chooses to give of themselves and their time to care about these things on behalf of the congregation. Leaders choose to get together on weeknights to talk about which bank offers the best interest rates and what to do when Christmas falls on a Sunday and what to do about the siding on the building. It’s not particularly glamorous, nor does it always feel “spiritual.” And yet I am so deeply grateful to all of those who choose to give of themselves in this way.
Being a leader in church also means representing the church to all of the many places that a pastor cannot be. When a group of people is talking after worship or choir or Bible study about a question or a concern, a leader is the one who says, “Let me tell you how that decision was made,” or “You’re raising a good question, let me be the one to find out the answer and get back to you.” To be a church leader means that you forfeit the right to engage in gossip or bickering, because you have committed to be part of the solution to whatever challenges arise. You have chosen to focus on the future and to seek God’s guidance along with the rest of us.
Experts will tell you that there are many types of leaders. Often, the most important leaders do not hold elected office. They are the ones to whom all the eyes in the room turn when a new initiative is announced or a difficult decision needs to be made. FUMC is blessed with leaders of this type whose wonderful hearts ensure that we continue to move forward.
FUMC is blessed also with a strong group of leaders who have agreed to oversee the administrative affairs of the church. Next week, we are getting together at my house for 4 hours. My goal is to build community and trust, in addition to doing some training and study together. We have a great year ahead of us, and FUMC will be a better place because of these leaders. For which I am thankful. And I intend to say so at every opportunity I can!
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