Unlacing Our Combat Boots

It’s been a while. I last wrapped up my blog before moving from one zip code to another back in June. But it’s been tugging at me; that silly pen sticking its tip in my side.  So here we go. We’re back at it…

It’s the day after Christmas and I have already heard from several people close to me that their trees are down or will be by the end of the day. I frowned. I understood. But I still frowned.  When the world seemingly starts Christmas a month early and commercializes it to pieces by the time we actually get to the babe in the manger come Christmas Eve… well, yes, I see why the tree gets boot kicked to the curb by 10 am on Christmas Day.  But I can’t do it to mine.

In fact, it is on Christmas day that I actually begin to enjoy my decorated trees and wreaths. I’m usually too darn busy until then. Now I can look back and ponder all the grandeur and splendidness of Christmas Eve worship services.  I find myself humming a choral tune or belting out a carol.  I go back into the worship spaces and just sit, pondering all their meaning… and the glory of it all. 

After all, Christmas has just begun! Actually for Christ followers, Christmas is one day but Christmastide runs for 12 days; hence, the Twelve Days of Christmas! And that whole war on Christmas? It is no war. We Christ followers actually placed our holiday over an already firm standing secular holiday called by many “The Winter Solstice” and by others simply “The Holiday Season”.  We, as many other cultures and religions, overlap our Advent Season and then Christmastide, with this wider winter solstice celebration.  No wars are needed.  We aren’t in competition, really. Or at least, we don’t need to be.

And while I’m at it, that whole “keep Christ in Christmas” thing and the “let’s not X Christ from Christmas” thing? It is up to Christians to keep Christ in our Christmas celebrations; not others outside our faith.  It would be like expecting them to worship our God because we are called to.  (Ooops. Bad example. We do that too..) But the X thing, it’s not taking out anything. It turns out “Xmas” is not a non-Christian version of “Christmas”. The “X” actually indicates the Greek letter “Chi”, which is short for the Greek (New Testament language), meaning “Christ”. So “Xmas” and “Christmas” are equivalent in every way except one has fewer letters. Poor thing. It gets booted to the curb too.

Ahhhh, the perils of war… Maybe it’s time to unlace our combat boots. 

My hope is this: That both Advent and Christmastide will be for all Christ followers a time of expressing the very love that Christ calls us to all year.  Then, truly there would be peace on earth.  I’m heading home from work here soon to sit in front of my Christmas tree and ogle over its beauty and the way each twinkling light reminds me of the Light of Christ in my life.  If your tree is already down, that’s okay. You are welcome to stop by and sit at the base of mine.  It’ll be up for another ten days or so, anyway.  Merry Christmas my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ! Merry Christmas!

One Heck of a Ride!

What a rollercoaster week!  Up and down and back up again, only to creep over the peak and slowing begin picking up speed before flying to the depths…. to be caught up in the inertia of heading back up the next hill…. Life.  As both you and I know it.  Rarely do we ride the flats of life, but instead we hit the heights and depths as they naturally come.  I suppose that’s what makes us come back for more! 

This past week started out with continued news of the life-altering tornados in Moore, Oklahoma.  The images tear at my heart.  Tears run down my cheeks every time I hear another story, see another child in pain, watch another senior weep.  Yet life moved forward here in our lives and before I knew it, I was having a wonderful, playful, rip roaring good time as the kids from our community and I celebrated the year’s end with a Ho-Down.  With my overalls on and my straw hat tipped, we do se do-ed our way around the fellowship hall of the Methodist Church in Concord, hootin’ and hollerin’ along the way.  We handed out medals and ribbons to all the kids for a job well done this year, and then we huffed down some pink frosted piggy faced cupcakes. 

But soon we climbed the peak fully and the kids gave me a big stack of cards, saying their goodbyes… and then a cake with the writing “We will miss you!” on top.  [sigh]  Uh oh, I can feel the car dropping and my hair beginning to fly back and… wheeeee… we all group hug and one by one whispers upward “I love you”, “I love you Pastor Melany”…. I love you too partners.  I love you too.

While I was down there, I figured it was as good as time as ever to pass through the doors to the Point Youth Lounge & Diner where the youth were waiting to toss a barrage of questions to me.  “So why do you have to leave anyway?!” started off the conversation.  After a lengthy explanation of what the call into ordained ministry is all about and how Jesus never stayed in just one community but instead went where God called and where needs arose, they hit me with the second question.  Uh oh… I didn’t feel this one coming… as the coaster began its jerky climb back to the top… clink, clank, clink, clank…

“So what about baptism? What’s that all about?”  Baptism?? Oh my!! I would love to share with you about baptism!! This conversation led to one of our youth asking boldly “So will you baptize me this Sunday?!”  YES!!  Whew!  We hit the peak again!!  “And me?... and me?... and me??”  Oh yes! And yes! And yes!  So we set our plans and I left the lounge on cloud nine!  But, by Friday night, the cart not only tipped over the top, but without any warning whatsoever it plummeted down the other side to the pits of my stomach and broke my heart and the hearts of many others.  Two of the youth who sat across from me just a few nights before had been in a horrific car accident, and they were life flighted to U of M Hospital.  They both remained unconscious more than 24 hours later… a cracked skull, internal bleeding, emergency surgery… oh my…

Sunday morning: the update arrives and both have opened their eyes!! Yes! We begin the ascent once again and my last worship at CUMC begins as we share the fantastic news and we sing together, and we pray together, and we laugh together and we end up baptizing nine of our children and youth.  Talk about a ride!!  Of course, the others would have to wait, but the light they sparked just a few nights before lit up the baptisms we were able to have… and will keep the others warm until they are well.  And then we went downstairs for an incredible Open House with family, and friends from the community, from the Free Store, and from CUMC all in attendance.  We ate, and ate, and ate some more. Did I mention the chocolate fountain?! Oh yah.  Talk about the heights of roller coaster riding!  … and then they began to line up… one after another… after another and another… We hugged, we laughed, and with some, I cried.  How do you say goodbye to a couple hundred of your favorite people all at the same time?  Slowly, I suppose.  Very slowly…

Later that night I rejoined the youth for a rockin’ concert and then early the next morning I joined my colleague who is retiring from Marshall UMC. He and I, my husband and the Praise Band there all walked together in the Memorial Parade… a parade that honors endings… all while walking toward a new beginning.  And the roller coaster continues. 

So I have thought long and hard when asked if I would continue my writing here in the County Press.  But I think it is time to let go here too.  Your responses have touched my heart.  We have helped others together.  What a joy to be allowed into your lives.  But there will be others jumping into the car here… and the rails will begin clicking and clacking… and what a ride it will be! 

I will likely continue my writing at www.pastormelany.blogspot.com for any of you die hards, and I most always post links on my Facebook wall.  So onward my ride goes.  Next stop: Marshall.  Keep being who you are.  Keep serving those in need.  Keep loving God and others.  In His hands I leave you all.  It’s been one heck of a ride!  

Listen to Your Mother!

Once a month we set aside all work and appointments and do our best to give our full attention and love to our grandkids.  Last weekend was our Grand Weekend and was it grand! The weather was perfect so we filled the kiddie pools, removed the cover to the sand box, and dusted off the swings.  We laughed and splashed and dug and hugged until we couldn’t do it anymore.  A day and a half later, we dropped them back off with their parents, exhausted and loved. 

Because we were so very tuned in to the grands, we weren’t so much with social media, the television or radio.  In fact, it wasn’t until late Monday evening after grocery shopping and returning back home that I sat down to run through any messages I may have gotten for the past two days.  I kept seeing over and again the condolences to the people of Moore, Oklahoma… and then I heard what had happened.  On a day when I sit comfortably in the back yard of our farm, with wind blowing through the willow and our grandkids giggles wafting up into the warm sunshine, others were laying on top of their children trying to save their lives. 

Makes you think. Not only about life and death and what to be thankful for and appreciate today, but also the warnings we receive and the loved ones who do their best to keep us safe from harm.  I remember when I was about seven. My brother and I and my mom lived in an apartment right next to our elementary school.  There in the middle of the apartment was a walk in closet.  And whenever a warning would ensue because a tornado had been seen, my mom would grab a mattress and throw it on the floor of that closet and tell both us kids to get in there and stay in there.  Then she would go gather drinks and snacks and a transistor radio and she would return, shutting the door behind her… and we would wait.  Sometimes for hours.  I remember asking her over and over if we could go now and her answer was always the same: “Not until the warning is called off.  I want you safe.”  So we waited.

Later when we were teens and lived out on Willis Road next to my grandfather’s farm in Saline, mom would gather us all downstairs in this small cinder block encrusted room, and again we would wait.  The older we got the more belligerent we got toward her.  We made fun of her paranoid fanaticism and basically hung tight only because we didn’t want to be grounded if we left… and be stuck indoors even longer.  But the reality for her… well, it was deeply engrained in her mind. 

She would retell the story of Palm Sunday, 1965, when 47 tornadoes hit. It was the second-biggest outbreak on record at the time. In the Midwest, 271 people were killed and 1,500 injured (1,200 in Indiana alone).  The tornadoes occurred in a swath 450 miles long and 200 miles wide. The outbreak lasted 11 hours and is among the most intense outbreaks, in terms of number, strength, width, path, and length of tornadoes, ever recorded, including four "double/twin funnel" tornadoes.  28 died in Michigan (wikipedia.com).  One or two F-4 tornadoes struck Milan, south of Saline.  One tornado destroyed the Wolverine Plastics building on the Monroe County side of town (then, the top employer in the village), completely removing the roof in the process. Another then struck and seriously damaged the Milan Junior High School and the adjacent, disused (since 1958) senior high school.  My mom’s uncle lived there and on that day, she was in Milan.  She remembers hearing the deafening “freight train” as it came through “taking porches off houses on both sides of the street at the same time, as it ran down the yellow line.”  I was two. 

We will never truly revere weather and its power until we have seen it unleashed on humanity in its fullest rage.  Live life to its fullest, for sure, because we never know when our time will come.  Pray for others who have endured loss.  But most of all, heed the warnings and believe your mom when she says she is just trying to keep you safe. 

Wanna Change the World?

Ever want to change the world? Yah. Me too.  I remember the first time was when I was around twelve and I was next door at my uncle’s house.  My mother had just left, heading back to our house next door and several of her sisters and brothers were still in the room.  They were complaining about her and talking like she hadn’t just been with them.  They were griping about how bossy she was, how she was in everyone’s business, yada yada… Now, hear me out.  My mother was and still is today extremely bossy and she surely was in everyone’s business, but she had to be.  Both her mom and dad died early and she was the oldest of six, three of which hadn’t graduated high school yet.  She took them all in (along with the three of her own) and helped to get them on their feet.  Yes. She was in everyone’s business, but only because she loved them deeply. 

So back to the story:  They are all complaining and I am amazed and confused all at the same time.  Right then, out of my then quiet, shy and unassuming mouth, came a barrage of concerns.  “How can you stand here and talk about her like she wasn’t just in the room?  How can you complain about all she does when you all know she loves you and works her butt off to raise you?  I thought you were family?  I thought she was your sister?  And why would you do it with me still in the room?  I am her daughter.  I know she’s not perfect but she is still pretty darn incredible….[sigh]” and with no more air to push through my lungs, I walked out the door and marched across the yard to go home, as well.

I remember wanting the world to be different.  I remember wanting family to act like family and neighbors to actually be neighbors.  I suppose today that God placed that desire in my little heart way back then for a day like today.  This weekend is something us Methodists call “Change the World” Weekend.  It’s an opportunity to refocus, re-center, and get back to basics… one small act of love to another.  The hope is, it will not end up being just one weekend, but a way of life.  Surely it has been, at Concord United Methodist Church, as they continue to reach out to neighbors, friends, and even strangers.  So why don’t you join us?  We’d love to have you and your family. 

We’ll be meeting at the church (119 S. Main St., Concord) at 10 am for a brief time of worship.  Our band will start with a couple of songs, those who are members will have a moment to share their tithes and offerings, and we’ll say a prayer thanking God for all he has already done for each of us.  And then we’ll head out for what we at CUMC call our “Work-ship Sunday!”  By 10:20 am, we’ll be out washing windows of some of our local businesses downtown, picking up litter all along our roadsides, raking leaves for some of our widows down Main Street, washing cars for some passerbys, knitting and crocheting some prayer shawls and stuffed animals, changing oil for those who can’t afford to get it changed on their own, and planting flowers around town to add a little beauty. 

It will be a great way to worship our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ while changing the world, all at the same time.  Everyone is welcome: Jew or Greek, male or female, young or old, Methodist or Presbyterian, believer or nonbeliever.  We are all one as family members of the same humanity, sharing the same earth to form our communities.  So come at 10 or feel free to pop in at 10:20 as the work begins.  We’ll all return to the Fellowship Hall at 12 noon for a free lunch prepared by even more neighbors.  During lunch an awesome young man by the name of Neil Sauter will be sharing with us how he is changing the world while walking on stilts across Michigan to raise money for Cerebral Palsy.  Did I mention Neil has CP?  Yah.  Changing the world. 

We’ll have you out the door by 12:30, so what do you say? Can we change the world together? For the sake of all? Wear your grubs and bring a rake or trash bag or knitting needle along with you.  It can be different… one small act of love to another.  

Tran·si·tion /tranˈziSHən/

Tran·si·tion  /tranˈziSHən/ The process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another. Proc·ess /ˈpräˌses/ A series of actions or steps taken to achieve an end.  Pe·ri·od /ˈpi(ə)rēəd/ A length or portion of time.  Change /CHānj/ Make or become different.  State /stāt/ The particular condition that someone or something is in at a specific time. Con·di·tion /kənˈdiSHən/ The state of something, esp. with regard to its appearance, quality, or working order.  An·oth·er /əˈnəT͟Hər/ Used to refer to an additional person or thing of the same type as one already mentioned or known about.

Okay. So let’s get this right.  Transition is a series of actions or steps taken, or a length or portion of time that is made, or becomes different from one particular state or condition, to an additional state or condition, possibly similar in type to one that is already known.  Possibly.  Hmmm. No wonder transition is so darn difficult!

Honestly, nothing has really been similar.  I have been double dipping these past several weeks as I attempt to transition my current congregation from my leadership to new leadership, all the while attending staff meetings, administrative councils, and even hiring interviews for the transition we’ll be making with my new congregation.  And truth be told, it is a process.  I have long lists of steps that must be made to transition from here to there.  I have companies I need to contact to tell them to stop sending me emails that need to go to the church’s email instead.  I have files, both digital and paper, to move over to my home computer or to move off of my laptop so everyone has what they need.  I have to turn in charge cards and remove my name off of this, that, and the other, while soon I’ll be asked to add my name to similar, yet very different things. 

And then there’s the packing.  Ohhhhh, the packing.  [sigh]  It takes like forever.  Really.  Pots, pans, shoes, coats, chairs, rugs, plants and yard ornaments… my, my, my.  Talk about transition!  In order to move stuff from one state or condition to another, it must be wrapped, and packed, and taped… until you realize you need it.  And then it must be untaped, and unpacked, and unwrapped.

All at the same time, people are transitioning too.  Little children are wondering if “the new pastor will be playful like Pastor Melany.”  Adults are wondering who they will talk with when life is getting really hard.  Friends are wondering if we will remain friends once I get new friends.  Neighbors are wondering how they will get along without us in their lives.  And of course, my husband and I are wondering too.  I will miss the kids so very deeply.  I will worry about the adults I know are struggling.  I will feel guilty not being a very good friend because I’m so busy.  And I will wonder how our old neighbors are getting along. 

Is it any wonder we shudder at the word “transition”? It’s not that it’s bad.  It’s just so heavy.  Its weight can tip you over sometimes.  And may I even say… it’s exciting, all at the same time!!  I hate that about transition!  I mean, I love it, but I hate it because I don’t want to like transition, yet all of a sudden I find I love transition because it is so exhilarating to think about all the possibilities God is drumming up just around the corner…  Just around the corner… That reminds me.  I should probably get packing… or digging up plants… or moving files over… or something.  Transition is coming.  In fact, transition is well under way.  And my guess is, it probably is in your life too.  Happy transition my friends, whether in relationships, or jobs, or homes, or schools, or even stages of life… whatever transition you find yourself in.  Don’t miss the joy and excitement and child-like exploration that can be a part of it, and I will do my best to do the same.  

Soaking Up the Son...

Do I have news for you!  God will be blessing the community of Concord and the surrounding area come July 1^st with the appointment of Rev. David Elmore to Concord United Methodist Church, the Open Door Free Store, and the surrounding area!  As you read his bio below, take in the breath and width and depth of God’s love for our communities… God is very present in our midst and hears our cries.  I can see everything from a Recovery Life program, to a deeply needed food pantry as new births in our community under Pastor David’s guidance.  Did I mention his work with children, youth and seniors??  My my… just read on and soak up the blessings of the Son…

David Elmore was born on August 19, 1968 in Houma, Louisiana.  He was the oldest of 3 and attended both Saint Matthew’s Episcopal School and Vandebilt Catholic High School.  David then attended Texas A&M University where he graduated with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Civil Engineering.  After graduation, David worked as a Water Resources Planner and Engineer for various consulting engineering firms and eventually for the New Orleans District of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

One of the highlights of David’s career with the Corps of Engineers was spending approximately 6 months as a Water and Sewer Reconstruction Manager for the U.S. Agency for International Development helping restore water and sewer services to the people of Iraq after the U.S. invasion of 2003.  This experience gave David new insight into social justice issues regarding how humans treat one another and how one group’s privilege may come at the expense of others.   It also helped him understand the Islamic faith and its complexities as well as learn what radical hospitality truly means.

After returning to the U.S., David finally pursued the call to Ordained Ministry in the United Methodist Church.  He left New Orleans weeks before Hurricane Katrina struck to attend Saint Paul School of Theology in Kansas City, Missouri.  It was here that he met his wife, Julie (…who is being appointed as pastor of Quincy and Litchfield UMCs!).  As a student, David also pastored a two-point charge in Pleasanton and Prescott, Kansas starting in August 2005.  Upon graduation, he and Julie accepted an appointment to the Alaska United Methodist Conference in July 2008, where he they went to serve Community United Methodist Church (CUMC-N) in Nome as Co-Pastors.  He was ordained an Elder in the Pacific Northwest Conference of the United Methodist Church in June 2012.

As co-pastor of CUMC-N, David endeavored to lead the church in ministering the love of God to the hurting people of Nome, Alaska.  There are many issues there related to abuse of alcohol, loss of the Alaskan Native Culture, sexual abuse as well as the high cost of living.   CUMC-N sought to convey God’s love through innovative programs such as Tuesday School (Sunday School and Vacation Bible School all rolled into one!), worship that is sensitive to the needs of all people, and through programs including a Celebrate Recovery® ministry and a Faith and Culture Camp where youth can learn one can be both Christian and Alaskan Native.

Since March of 2011, David has served as Executive Director of the Nome Community Center (NCC), a National Mission Institution of the United Methodist Church affiliated with United Methodist Women, Inc.  In the spirit of its Mission to “enhance the quality of life of the people of the Bering Straits Region,” NCC provides a wide range of programs, services, and activities for the youth of Nome and their parents, putting major emphasis upon prevention and early intervention.  Services for youth and parents have included communications training, family support/preservation services, juvenile offender intervention, diversion activities, delinquency prevention activities, tutoring, socialization, and recreational and cultural activities for youth.   Currently, programs work with families needing help providing safe, nurturing homes for their children; the Nome Youth Court; Summer Lunch Program; XYZ Senior Center and Adult Day Services; Community and K-12 Tobacco Prevention; the Enforcing Underage Drinking Laws program; the Juvenile Alcohol Safety Action Plan; and the Nome Children’s Home.  The Community Center also operates the Nome Food Bank and is the general partner in the Munaqsri (Inupiaq for “A Caring Place”) Senior Apartments partnership. 

Hold onto your seats people… God is up to something… again!

And Hold Their Hand

As I sit and write this morning, I am looking out the window to an ocean that is churning with winds 15 to 30 miles per hour, an overcast sky in a dull shade of grey, and a long empty beach.  For just a moment, you might think that would depress me, considering this was supposed to be a vacation in the sun.  And I’ll be honest, I have whined a bit.  But as I sit here this morning, a deeper reality has hit. 

I’m on vacation!  Don’t get me wrong. I love my work. I am blessed to be called by God to spend my days helping others, sharing Christ’s love, and spreading joy in a sometimes difficult world.  But it can be exhausting… and time consuming… and honestly, it can become my first love.  When the apostle Paul said “Get married if you must”, I understand what he meant.  Darryl and I were married for just over two years when my call came.  There are plenty of nights that I would honestly prefer to just stay at the church and continue doing whatever it is I am doing, but I know that I also made a commitment to my husband… so I need to close shop and go home. 

But on vacation… well, on vacation I don’t have to think about that.  I can just be Melany, Darryl’s wife.  The ride down to Virginia Beach was a blessing on its own; talking in the car, laughing about silly things, sharing about our hopes and dreams, and holding hands. Each is simple, but honestly, the simple things are what we so often miss.  My husband and I do intentionally make time for each other.  We have to… or it won’t happen.  We have a date night every Friday night and have for over 20 years.  I think we’ve probably missed 6 or 7 over those 20 years.  They are that important.  We schedule the rest of life around it.  We don’t have to have money to do it either.  We can take a blanket down to a park and just lay there and talk about life.  We can go to Meijers for a $1.49 ice cream cone and sit on a bench and people watch for hours… together.  What’s important is that we ARE together. 

Many studies have been done on the importance of quality time together as a married couple.  For instance, couples who have weekly date nights stay together… forever.  Couples who don’t?  Don’t. It’s that simple.  I know way too many couples who are together, but honestly, they don’t even like each other, let alone enjoy each other.  It doesn’t have to be that way.  It really doesn’t.  Anything worth having in life is worth investing in.  It’s worth investing time, attention and money, to be honest.  Think of all the other things we spend money on… Yah. My point. 

We went out of our way on the trip down this week just so we could attend a dirt track stock car race.  Would this have been my first pick?  My second or fifth?  No. Probably not.  But it is my husband’s first… and second and third.  It’s his love and goes way back to his childhood.  His father was a racer, his uncles, his brothers, and he was a racer when I met him.  It was a no brainer.  Love the man. Adjust the route, and go racing…. Then turn my head from time to time throughout the races and just look at the smile on his face.  Priceless.  Did I mention it was all of about 38 degrees that night??  Still, priceless.  Our relationship is worth it. 

Later down the road, we stopped at a fine art center in the hills of Virginia, and my husband followed me around from one artist area to the next… listening to me swoon over the texture on a piece of pottery, the color of a patina on a metal sculpture, or the gemstone set into a beautiful piece of jewelry… and he never once said, “Are we done yet?”  I’m sure he thought it.  But he loves me.  And he invests in our relationship.  And I love the arts.  And he knows it, so now I feel loved by him. 

So whether you are in Michigan or Virginia, Ohio or Florida, take some time to invest in those you love… even if it means doing something you don’t necessarily enjoy or would choose yourself.  Then, while you are in the absolute thick of it, take a look at the one you love… and enjoy that.  And while you’re at it, hold their hand.  

I Get It

A woman friend from my prior church just said to me “We’re even.”  She said she used to feel guilty about talking to me about her grandkids all the time, but that I’ve made up for it with all I talk about mine now that I have some.  Ha! I suppose we are.  No matter how many people said, “You won’t get it until you have your own,” I didn’t get it.  But now I do.

We had three of our four grandchildren for two days this week and what fun we had!  Let me try that again…. We had three of our four grandchildren for two days this week and man, was that exhausting!  Both are true.  Dane is four, Scotty turns two next month, and Layla turned one this past weekend.  Evena, our youngest, will be joining our overnighters soon.  But there is something very special about setting time aside for the next generation.  I remember going to my grandparent’s farm as a kid and I always loved it there.  One of my favorite pics ever is of me and my brother sitting on the couch with my grandparents there; my brother and grandpa, then grandma and me. 

It’s not like my grandparents could set everything down and just play with us, or that we went or did anything special.  We just got to live a moment in time with them in the midst of their lives.  It was precious time, considering they both died before I was twelve.  I have no grandparents or greatgrands anymore.  It leaves quite a hole.  I don’t know how much time we’ll have with our grandkids, but I do know I will be seizing every moment I can with them, while I can. 

I told my kids we’d be packing and the grands could help.  They laughed at me.  My daughter-in-law said Layla would unpack as much as I packed.  She was right.  But we had fun anyway.  I got a whopping two boxes packed while they were here.  I think Layla was up to seven Easter baskets full of paper grass, one drawer and one cupboard emptied.  I suppose she did win.  Oh, yah, she also emptied three boxes of toys.  She definitely wears the crown.

The kids also helped me rake leaves off of one of my flower gardens and dump all the leaves into the woods behind our home.  We took time to play a little baseball and golf in between.  I also got to sit on the yard swing with Layla for a while as the boys preferred to sit in the sandbox and toss dirt at each other.  We ate ice cream and caramel corn (shhhhh… don’t tell their parents), and of course fed them plenty of fruits, veggies, and their own organic milk (which their parents sent along).  We watched “Little Mermaid” (Dane’s pick) just before bedtime and I was blessed to tuck each one into their makeshift beds one by one over the evening.  I love staggered bedtimes.  That special one on one time with each child is priceless. 

I have heard grandparents complain about their grandkids, and even have seen some yelling at them or telling them they are stupid.  My heart breaks for those kids.  I pray my grandkids will remember me with the same warm heart that I remember mine.  Nothing that gets broke, gets spilled, or gets left on the floor is worth breaking a heart over.  As my grandfather used to say, “It ain’t arms or legs…”  I suppose if we would have lost one of those, I may actually have been placed in time out.  

Beauty in the Midst of Chaos

I spent several hours the other day sitting on the floor placing teeny weeny seeds into egg cartons filled with soil.  I have been harvesting my own seeds the past few years.  Some don’t do a thing, while others sprout into incredibly vivacious plants.  Some of the seeds were so tiny, they felt more like dust particles, while others were big and chunky, unmistakably a seed.  Once this task was complete, my husband helped me carry them all out into my greenhouse.  There they will receive warm sunshine and a sprinkle of water each day.  I will walk out each morning in hopes of seeing a tidbit of green popping up through the soil.  For those who pop well, they will later be transplanted either up at our farm or over in Marshall at our new home.  Each will be eagerly anticipated and adored, nurtured and cared for.  And for what end?  Beauty.  Sheer beauty.  I am not planting any vegetables this year.  Every seed, every sprout, every journey will be taken by a plant that will eventually flower for no other reason than to add beauty to my life and others’. 

I am reading a book right now in preparation for our denomination’s Annual Conference.  It is titled “Bearing Fruit: Ministry with Real Results” by Lovett H. Weems Jr. and Tom Berlin.  Mr. Weems will be speaking at our conference, so the book with give each of us a preview of what is to come.  It talks about the importance of bearing fruit and being fruitful, for the sake of Christ and the world.  Rather than maintaining or surviving as a church, the authors challenge us to be a church that transforms lives.  In so doing, the entire world can be transformed.  The reality is, transformation doesn’t happen all willy-nilly.  It is planned, prepared, and worked toward. 

I was thinking the same thing about my flowers.  With the crazy few months we have ahead of us, couldn’t I just toss the seeds into the ground and hope for the best?  Or now that I do have the seeds all sown, can I just leave them outside and let nature takes its course?  The answer is simple.  Sure, if I am willing to accept the outcome.  Tossed seeds will likely be blown away, eaten by birds, or will simply shrivel and die before ever taking root.  And seeds placed outdoors right now will likely do a bunch of nothing.  It’s still too cold out to assure any germination and rain will either come in buckets or won’t come at all.  Consistency of temperature or moisture will surely be hit or miss.  If beauty in the midst of chaos is something I am not willing to live without, then this farm girl has some work to do.

Fruitfulness is a result of consistent, educated care.  You have to know what to do before you know how often to do it.  I have found the temps in my greenhouse, especially on sun filled days, can reach a scorching heat if I miss even one morning of watering.  And the reality is there are evenings I must water again.  If I haphazardly meander in and out of these plants lives, the reality is, well… they probably are not going to make it.  Now, I also am not God.  I can’t save a one of them and I surely cannot determine which will bear fruit and which will not.  But I can be sure that if I do my part, the rest will be in God’s hands. 

It’s no wonder Jesus used so many agricultural metaphors in scripture.  People surely resemble plants and vice versa.  If your church isn’t growing, if the people in your church don’t seem to be living fruitful lives outside of the church walls, then you may have to look at yourself.  Are you watering others regularly?  Are you staying near enough to help protect when the scorching heat attempts to burn them until they fold in half in a parched wilt?  Do you check their soil and add a little fertilizer from time to time when they are empty and used up?  Because if not, it is no wonder the church isn’t growing, or is even dwindling.  Bearing fruit takes work… but oh the results!  There’s nothing like the first zinnia that opens or a tall grass that sways in the summer breeze.  The smell of marigolds tickle the hairs in my nose and mini Japanese Iris’ always bring a smile to my face.  And don’t even get me started on those people at church I’ve been trying to nurture… talk about beautiful! 

I'm Stuffed!

What is it about stuff that brings us back wanting more? New stuff, old stuff, family stuff, important stuff, yard sale stuff, Free Store stuff, and even stuff I’m not really sure how I got.  I saw an episode of Hoarders last night and thought “Well, it’s not like I have that much stuff…”  But then try to start packing all your stuff.  All of a sudden you find you have more than enough stuff!

So with our move a month closer now, we’re trying to get more stuff packed.  With buying a retirement home last year, “The Farm”, we are thinking it would be smart to only move our stuff once so if we want to keep anything forever but really don’t need it right now, then that stuff should be packed in different boxes and taken to the farm.  That includes things like my grandmothers’s cut glass ware and my mother’s wedding china.  We have all our large family meals there now anyway… well, most of the time.  This past Sunday we had Easter dinner at our current home, so we had to drag some of the glassware that we already packed and moved to the farm back to the house.  AHHHHH!  Thing stuff drives me crazy.

Then there are all the art supplies.  I really never have time to create unless I am on vacation and I spend those at the farm, so all the art supplies are being packed to go there… well, mostly.  I need some items for upcoming Kid’s Clubs at the church and I do have to finish my granddaughter’s quilt before her birthday… [sigh]… Then there is the actual stuff I want and need at our new house in Marshall come June.  The moving company wants all of that in their boxes so they can pack all our stuff snuggly in the truck.  But if I really need it now, how do I pack that stuff early?… [Sigh]

I get exhausted just thinking about all the stuff that needs to be moved.  I don’t even want to talk about my clothes, shoes, purses, jewelry, paintings, framed photos, and chairs.  I like chairs.  And that’s just some of the stuff.  I also have lots of live stuff that has to be moved, like Manuel Hosea Newago.  He’s our Red Devil fish.  He’s almost a foot from fin to lips.  He’s snotty and a real bully sometimes, especially if you move anything in his tank.  Ha! We’ll be moving YOU and the TANK soon, bud!  That should be a real fight.  Plus there are all my plants… [SIGH]… I have a lot of plants, indoors and out.  Indoors alone I have my last five year’s poinsettias from Christmas.  I have almost 100 running foot of Devil’s Ivy. They also call it Golden Pothos, but anyway, no matter how many times I cut it back to the pot, it grows like crazy.  Somehow, I have to move this stuff.  Plus there are gerbera daisies, palms, Christmas cactus, geraniums, begonias, arrowhead vine, spider plants, dracaena, schefflera, and more.  I have to move all this stuff!

And did I mention all my stuff outside?!  Oh yes. I have stuff out there too.  I put in hundreds of square foot of landscaping and gardens outside.  I plan on splitting most all of them to take either to the farm or the new house.  There are hostas, lilies, roses, moon plants, irises, daisies, cone flowers, decorative grasses, and a snowball bush I really want to bring along.  [SIGH]  Then there’s the grandkids’ play house, the sandbox, the teeter totter and race car.  The garage and shed are full of stuff that needs to be moved.  We’ve got lawn chairs, lawn tools, tents and yard décor.  Did I mention I have a 25’ greenhouse we will need to move too?  It is FULL of stuff!  There are pots up the ying yang, a compost bin, four huge potting benches, a cabinet for all my supplies, and a soil tub.  I have harvested all my own seeds so I’ll be planting them here this week and next, so all my seedlings will be ready for the move.

Did I mention we went to a friend’s estate sale and bought some stuff this week?  I mean great deals!  A whole bucket of awesome rope for 25 cents.  Tons of handmade glazed pottery to use as planters, also for 25 cents each!  An old ladder to use as a planter, some metalsmithing tools, a birdcage on a stand (I’ve always wanted one of those!)  And then there was the white iron yard furniture with scroll detailing… the rototiller… the vintage kitchen utensils with red wooden handles for the farm… well, you get the picture. 

Praise be to God for the Open Door Free Store.  The more stuff I pack, the more stuff I realize I really don’t need.  That stuff is going in big black garbage bags and hauled down to the Free Store.  That way some others who don’t have enough stuff can have some of mine.  Lord knows I have plenty!

The Truth

I struggled with what to write my article on today.  If I would not have read an article on Facebook this morning, I would have taken the “safe” route and talked about submission, giving ourselves up for the sake of the other, Good Friday and all that Christ gave up, or the Resurrection and New Life we call Jesus.  But darn that Facebook!  I did read it, and it has disturbed my soul ever since. 

Seems the infamous scanty panty company Victoria Secrets has luanched a new line of lingerie meant for college age, but are underhandedly being promoted to teenage girls as well.  And just so you know I am anything but a Puritan or “Footloose” basher expecting young girls to wear 2 gallon size whities that rest on their waste line.  If the bright young things were simply bright undies in wonderful all-growed-up colors or prints and rest below the belly button, they would truly be for young things.  But these “Bright Young Things” are in the shapes of thongs and other scanty panties with phrases on them like “call me” and “feeling lucky?” O.K. Call me prude.  This is crazy.  And yes, for those who will say “we should be responsible for our own kids and not buy this type of smut for them”, good start.  But that isn’t even the point. 

The point is we as a society continue to put our young girls out in the world as objects of gratification for others.  The world will see the ads and so will our young boys.  Men who are “purchasing” another child as a sex slave (and yes, thousands of little girls are sold into the industry here in America each year…) will get another rubber stamp on their already thwarted minds and souls.  Uncles and step dads, just as my own had, will legitimize their attraction to children in their lives and another little 7 year old will be molested in her own home. 

Crazy?  Ridiculous connections here?  No.  There are plenty of studies out there that confirm exactly the connections I lay out here.  The fact is, the true character of a nation is how they treat their least and most vulnerable.  Our character scares me.  If the idea of having a sex-laden lingerie line for teen girls disturbs you as well, please take a few moments and write a letter to Victoria Secrets, North American Office, P.O. Box 16589, Columbus, Ohio 43216-6589, U.S.A., or leave a comment online at customercare@victoriasecret.com.  If we sit back and say nothing, are we not part of the problem?  (…give me a moment to get off the soap box…)

I sat in the back row of a church one dark night, watching others praise God and act as though they actually found joy in their lives.  I did not.  I only wanted out.  At that moment, the One who hung on the cross, the One who bled and died a horrific death, the One who was found missing in the tomb three days later, that One spoke to me… little ole’ sin-stained me… and he said “Do you know you are a daughter to the King of kings?” 

My answer after a brief silence was “No. No I didn’t.” 

His response was “Well, you are.” 

And my life has never been the same.  Never.  The pain, the anguish, the filth that was poured over me by one abuser after another… the names I had given myself through my teen years (ugly, used, whore, slut) were all washed away… and emptiness that had bored deep into my soul was filled for the first time in my life!  I was a daughter to the King.  That made me a Princess.  Not just any princess but a Princess to the King.  A daughter that was adored, protected, and loved; truly loved. 

Easter is more than bunnies and eggs.  It is the moment a wretch like me was given hope.  The Way, the Truth, and the Life was resurrected that day… and the rest of us have been given new Life ever since.  Little girls being held in slavery, young boys being molested in their own homes, middler women who struggle with depression, and elderly fellows who have lived a life of complacency… and everyone else in between.  We have all been given new Life in Christ.  Happy Easter my good friends.  Happy Easter.  

The Greatest Story Ever Told

Lent is quickly coming to a close and the tomb will soon be opening.  Our faith community has spent these past weeks looking at a few of the spiritual disciplines that can help us to unlock holiness in our lives and assist us in living lives that are set apart for the sake of Christ.  We’ve spent time learning about the importance of solitude, fasting, prayer, meditation, study, and submission in our daily lives.  But all of this is not about laws we must follow.  It’s about spiritual tools we have been given that will enhance our ability to get closer to the God who died in order to get closer to us. 

I remember growing up outside the church and believing that God was the mean one that drowns everyone who doesn’t do what he wants, and Jesus was the nice one who loved the little children.  In our dining room hung a velvet painting of Jesus kneeled on a rock, praying with all his might.  I always figured he was praying to God that he might be nicer to the rest of us.  Little did I know he was praying for himself in a great time of need, though in the end, God’s will, not his own. 

Each Easter I would get on my best dress, my white tights, gloves, bonnet, and little girl’s purse, my patent leather shoes, and head out the door with my family for Easter worship.  Some years I would stay the spring break week with my great grandparents in Wayne and they would take me to Easter worship.  But every year, I went.  It was the only Sunday of the year I spent in worship, but that Sunday, we did not miss.  Even my grandfather got out of his farmer attire of work pants and white tee shirt and put on his best suit, crisp white shirt, matching tie, and shined dress shoes.  Even grandpa went to the church to worship that week.  I knew it was special, but honestly, I wasn’t sure why.

The story was always the same.  Jesus was killed for being so nice.  He was hung on a cross to die a horrible death.  His mom cried at his feet.  His friends took him off the cross and prepared his body for burial.  A large rock was placed in front of the tomb which his body was placed in… and three days later, the tomb was empty.  What was amazing was how excited we would all get each year at that point in the story, even though we had heard it before.  Mary Magdalene would be the first to see Jesus alive and she would run off to tell others.  Peter and John would run to the tomb next and find nothing but cloth.  Later Jesus appeared to all of them. 

This year I will be preaching at that worship service.  The same story will be told, actually by little children this year.  Children like me, back in those days of white tights and bonnets.  Only they won’t be sitting in the seats with their parents and grandparents listening to the story.  They will be telling the story, acting it out.  They will wrap the body for burial and place it in the tomb.  They will come to the tomb and cry on their knees when they find it empty.  They will run for the others and then return only to find cloth.  And they will see their Savior and Lord, Jesus their Christ, with their very eyes… and we will all celebrate!... with streamers and balloons and songs of joy! 

The Easter story was the first story I knew about Jesus, and through it, I eventually came to celebrate the God who sent him.  Not the mean drowning God, but the loving, forgiving, gracious God who was willing to get out of his Sunday best and put on humanity… as dirty, and wrinkled, and filthy as it can be.  Don’t miss the Greatest Story Ever Told this Easter.  And don’t let your kids or their kids miss it either.  It’s too important. 

You can meet us at Concord UMC Thursday night for a re-enactment of the Lord’s Supper at 7 pm, or join us Friday at 12:30 pm at Horton Congregational for a community wide Good Friday service where we’ll hear 7 pastors expound on 7 phrases Jesus used on that dreadful day.  Sunday morning you can meet us on Swain’s Hill for a sunrise worship at 7 am, or back to the church at 10 am for the children’s dramatic telling of the Easter story.  We’ll even share breakfast in between.  But come.  All eternity depends on it.  

Dry, Parched, Crumpled and Withered

It’s hard to believe it was just Christmas, but it was! And now it is just a few weeks from Easter.  Where does time go? A day used to contain 24 hours, but recently it has been whittled down to maybe a mere 16 or 18.  I’m not sure how that happened, but I truly believe it has.  Those few hours get eaten up so very quickly with things that were never even a part of our vocabulary 20 years ago. 

For instance, do you remember writing I don’t know, maybe 20 or 30 letters a day to friends or family?  I remember junk mail was a real issue, but I certainly don’t remember getting 25 to 30 flyers, coupons, or other correspondence in my mailbox each day.  Then there’s the whole constant chatter thing.  Do you remember the phone ringing off the hook like maybe 40 or 50 times a day with a friend asking if you like the same companies they do, or how you feel about an article they read in the paper, or them dropping by to show you a picture they like and thought maybe you would like too?... Me either.

As nice as it can be to have email, texting, and social media sites like Facebook or Twitter, it seems to me they are stealing the hours of my day at a break neck pace.  And if I recall correctly, they were each birthed in order to SAVE us time!  I cannot remember the last time any of them saved me time… not really.  Now, I am not saying I am willing to boycott them or leave my membership or become a social recluse (though I did think about all three… for a while…)  But I do need to consciously work at stopping their power and authority to take my days away, hour by hour, minute by minute. 

Especially now, during Lent, as we prepare our hearts to stand before the open tomb of Easter morn (but any other time, as well) we need to stand tall and reclaim our time.  As I have been teaching on the spiritual disciplines these past weeks, it has become apparent that these are called disciplines for a reason.  If we are not purposeful and disciplined about including them in our lives, they likely will never happen.  So this week we are focusing on meditation. 

Psalm 1 sings out “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.  That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers.”  Oh, how I want to be planted along that stream of water!  Please, nourish me Lord! I get so dry and chapped and feel as though I could be blown away in the wind if it were not for those extra pounds I put on through the holidays!  But when? When will I find time to meditate on your laws, to love You Oh Lord, and love others in my life?  Between the emails and the texts and the facebook messages and likes and bleeps and tweets of a twittering, chirping, obnoxious compute?  [sigh] Okay. Okay. I get it.  I won’t find this time, but I can make this time. 

Each of us can find 10 or 20 minutes each day, even before the computer gets turned on, and we can just breath.  No purpose.  No response.  Just breath.  And after we have found ourselves breathing for several minutes, uninterrupted by the outer world, then we can actually turn to scripture and be fed.  We can plant our roots along the stream’s edge and allow God to filter up into our veins the Living Water that brings new life day in and day out.  If we don’t, Christmas will turn to Easter and Easter to summer and summer to fall and before you know it, we will find ourselves dry and parched, crumpled and withered, floating away in the wind… extra ten pounds on our rear, or not…

P.R.A.Y.

As we moved forward another week into our Lenten study on the spiritual disciplines, prayer was the area of focus.  Within prayer are four easily remembered subcategories: P. R. A. Y.  When used daily in conversation with God, the discipline of prayer can add another depth to our personal faith and relationship with our Creator. 

P is a great reminder to Praise.  Praise the one who clears the way for rain and sun, sleep and work, forgiveness and growth, grandchildren and nice warm mocha coffee each morning.  It’s easy to forget all that we have and are blessed with.  I spent the night with one of my daughter-in-laws last night to lend a hand while my son is back in Haiti for a couple weeks.  I knew full well before I left my home that a coffee pot would not be in the vicinity.  So I got creative.  I brought along a few grounds, a pack of hot chocolate and a coffee filter.  This morning I was able to heat up a bit of water in a pan, and then plop in a coffee filter stuffed with grounds, twisted tight at the top, and then securely closed with packing tape.  A few bobbles of the filter pack and voila!  Fresh hot coffee!  Add a packet of hot chocolate and now we’re talking business. 

As I read the new blogs up this morning from our Haiti Team #2, I see they are getting creative too.  While attempting to paint the new Merlet Community Center, it seems a paint roller on a thin wobbly stick wasn’t getting it.  So the bossman (foreman) got out his handy dandy machete and whittled them a new, sturdier version.  My point is this, often we don’t recognize all we have until we don’t have it: mocha coffee each morning, sturdy painting extenders, homes with indoor plumbing and running water, and the list goes on.  Not to mention loved ones, coworkers, neighbors, and friends.  Just remember to say “thank you.”

R is a moment to repent; turn and go in the other direction.  It’s easy in any given day to become selfish, snotty, haughty, not to mention more vicious sins like hatred, lying, and hurting others.  So take a moment in your prayers today (and every day) to repent.  I simply start with “I’m sorry…” and then finish the phrase over and over until there is nothing else I need to turn from.  And then I ask for God to forgive me.  Graciously, he does.

Next is A for ask… and ask… and ask… I ask for needs of those around me, those who have asked me to pray for them, those I see injustice happening to, those who are suffering, and I toss myself on the heap, as well.  “Please help me to be more organized, less selfish, and this whole sugar thing… could you help me with that too Lord?  I’m really struggling here and could use some strength.”  Jesus said once that we don’t have because we don’t ask.  Hmmmm… there’s some food for thought.

And lastly Y is for yield.  Yield to the Lord God Almighty that gave you breath in your mother’s womb.  Yield to the One who saved you from your own sin and death.  Yield to the God and Creator who wants the very best for you.  Jesus also reminds us that if we take special care to provide for the needs of our own children, then how much more does our Father in heaven?  Way more.  More than we can even comprehend.  So why not yield?  What is there to fear?  What is best for us?  What we never could think of ourselves?  Are you kidding me?? Giving self fully to God each and every day will bless our lives and the lives of those around us in such incredible ways, we can’t even imagine.  So give it up… and start living the life God intended for you… and along the way… P. R. A. Y.  

My Brother's Keeper

Tragedy.  Defined by Wesbter’s as “An event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress“.  Now put the word family in front of it and you get “An event causing persons living together in a household, familiar with each other in deep ways, to experience great suffering, destruction, and distress“.  Tragedies have occurred in families since the first family to set foot on this earth.  Adam and Eve’s first born, Cain, took the life of his younger brother, Abel. 

Since that time, family after family has walked this treacherous road we call tragedy and wrote a new page in their family story that will never be torn out.  Tragedy is like that.  It is so deeply embedded in who we are by what we have gone through, that it is never forgotten.  The event that defines all other events in my life is the day my grandfather fell in a well on our family farm and drown.  Another young man drown trying to save him and a third has suffered mental complications ever since.  Three families were defined that day.  And since that day, all other events in my life are arranged around that one single family tragedy.  My first period started “the week of the auction, after grandpa died.” 

Nearly thirty years later, another family tragedy hit.  This time it was my own father.  He had struggled with a horrendous cancer that took his tongue, jaw bone, throat, cheek bone, and eventually began to eat away at his brain stem.  It was excruciating to live with.  The last time I saw him, his one eye had sunken lower on his face, where his cheek bone used to rest.  Bones are in place for a reason.  They keep order and protect things around and behind them.  It was just a couple weeks later that his caregiver found him in the upper loft of his barn.  He had shot himself.  The pain was more than he could bear.  The suicide was more than I could bear.  I hadn’t known my father for very long.  My mother and he divorced when I was just two and he spent several years of his life running from state to state before living in prison for several more.  One tragedy after another was beginning to pile up in his life… and ours.

This week we had a tragedy in our own community, on our own block, in fact.  I was driving home from work and the street was closed off.  My mind began to race, “An accident? A heart attack?...”  I called home and my husband answered.  The tragedy was across the street.  A neighbor.  So I got out of my car and went up to an officer and asked if clergy was needed.  It was.  Another family tragedy.  Another family will begin to define themselves by a day, a moment, an act. 

Most tragedies cannot be prevented.  Some can.  What makes them bearable and allows us to live onward, though the pain left behind is deep and wide, is the love those around us show and the prayers that are lifted on our behalf.  I am thankful for those who were praying as my three year old sister walked up to the casket and placed a stick of gum in my grandpa’s suit coat pocket.  He had stood at the door to the barn each morning with a similar stick in his hand, watching her waddle across our backyard to offer her morning hug and retrieve the gum.  I am thankful for those who prayed as I stood before a few lone neighbors and friends in my father’s back yard, wearing my clergy robe and stole, speaking words of hope and grace as tears ran down my cheeks at his funeral. 

Continue to pray for my neighbor, and yours too.  There are family tragedies all around us.  Some hit the airwaves more than others, but each tear apart lives and remain in the hearts of those who dangle along the family blood line.  In the first book of the Holy Bible, after Cain took his brother’s life and God had asked where his brother was, Cain responded “What am I? My brother’s keeper?”  The answer is yes.  Yes, each of us is.  Keep praying for those surviving family tragedy… today, tomorrow, next month, and yes, next year.  If we cannot love our neighbor in this way, tell me, how can we truly love them at all? 

Ssshhhh... [sigh]

Ssshhhhh… listen.  What do you hear? I hear the bubbles in the back of the fish tank as the air hits surface in the filter.  What do you see?  Right now, at this very moment?  I see snow lightly floating down from the sky, doing its best to pile up upon one another on my front porch.  What do you smell?  Is there any fragrance in the air?  I just boiled a dozen eggs… mmmmm… there’s something about a fresh boiled egg first thing in the morning.  And what do you feel?  Deep within your being? Are you feeling sad or glad or silly or tired?  Lost or lonely or giddy or mad? 

From time to time we have to slow down long enough to not only ask these questions, but actually find their answers.  This past week signaled the beginning of a 40 day spiritual adventure we call Lent.  If you count the Sundays along the way, then it would be 47 days, but we don’t.  For Christ followers, every Sunday is a mini-Easter, a day to celebrate resurrection; both ours and that of Jesus.  But the days in-between are a little different.  We use them as a path of growth, steps to take toward holiness, toward becoming more like, and closer to, our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. 

So this week, I’ve asked my faith family to practice a bit of solitude.  If your life is as chaotic and jam packed as mine, then breaking away purposefully for a good 10 minutes a day will be like chocolate for the soul.  Take 10 each day this week, whether in the morning or in the evening, or even during lunch at work.  Just pull away to a quiet room or even to your car and just be.  Be alone, be quiet and be still.  Psalm 46.10 says “Be still and know that I am God.”  Be still… and know that he is God. 

If you have more time on your hands then sacrifice a bit more of your social life.  Commit to a half hour or an hour per day this week (or all the way through Lent, if you are willing!)  Turn off the radio, the television, the phone, and yes, even the internet.  No Facebook, no Pinterest, no nothing but you… and your Maker.  God may move.  God may not.  God may speak. God may not. God may touch you.  God may not.  It really doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that you stopped. 

In the fast paced, focused and frenzied world we live in, stopping is of utmost importance to our mind, body and soul.  It strengthens us for tougher days ahead and it gives us opportunity to simply exist, as a human being, with no immediate task or need at hand.  Just be.  Be who you are.  Be who you are meant to be.  Be yourself.  And be loved.  Allow God: Father, Son, Spirit, to renew you, fill you, and love you.  And then tomorrow, do it again. 

And if you are one who is quite practiced in solitude, then go one step further this Lenten season and take a day per week through Lent to simply be silent.  You can do what you typically do within your day but do it without speaking.  Simply live silent one day a week.  Listen more than you speak.  Hear the bubbles in the fish tank or the purr of your cat or the wind dancing across your yard.  See things you may typically miss.  The uniqueness of each snowflake, the color of each leaf on your indoor plants, the light and the way it dances across the ceiling at just the right time of the day.  Smell life around you: the fresh boiled eggs, the toast browning early morning, your husband’s aftershave as he walks by you fresh out of the shower.  And feel… something… anything.  Cry, laugh, contemplate, be thankful. 

The path to resurrection is full of both death and life, if we slow down long enough, and often enough, to notice.  

Haiti Team #1: Day 11

Our last day in Haiti, and we have a lot of work we want to get done before we leave, so after breakfast to work we went. Tom and Odlin worked part of the day on the door frames. Jaime was painting planters for the porch of the Merlet Center. Dave, Darryl, and Ulrick worked on painting the west end and the south side of the lower level of the building. We got as far as the stucco was done. 

Jaime went and gave a class on photography at about 4:30 and took Ulrick with her, the rest of us started laying out where the new clinic will be with Odlin as our translator. He did a great job. So the clinic is laid out and will be just to the west and just to the south of the Merlet Center. The workers finished up the dining area enough for us to eat dinner in it.  Paul was very excited. He had come up with a name for it and wanted us to baptize it. We baptized it with the name "mizak Thanksgiving table" and the ladies had cooked a feast for dinner, complete with a cake. 

After dinner everyone showered and started packing and along came a down pour of rain, so that cut short all the good buys from the area people that show up on the porch. The trip has been very rewarding in that we got a lot of work done.  We also were the first people to shop the artisans boutique in the new Merlet Center and we were the first team to eat under the roof of the new dining area. 

The workers at Paul's house are working hard to get the upstairs done.  They have the roof on it and are tiling the bathrooms. That area should be ready for the next team that comes at the end of the month. We will be up at 4 am to get the ride down the mountain for the trip home. We will be arriving in Concord, MI at about 1 am on Wednesday morning. That will make for a long day. Not sure if I will be doing a blog for the last day as I will be busy catching up on all the work at home that has not got done since I left. So this blog thing has been fun, but I hope the next time I go on a mission trip Melany can come with me and I can talk her into doing the blog again. Thanks for reading.

Haiti Team #1: Days 9 & 10

Everyone was up early Saturday morning getting packed for our trip to Les Cayes. The excitement and anticipation of what was to come was getting to all of us. We left right after breakfast in the van expecting a 4 hour trip of site seeing across the nation. Instead of 4 hours, it took about 5 hours, but what a beautiful country with great views. 

Once in Les Cayes, we did the site seeing thing. We saw the Methodist Church, the house that Odlin rents, and also met his family. We then went to the school that Odlin attends, which was emotional for Tom. The school had part of the roof collapse a few months ago and Odlin was at school that day. He made it out, but some of his friends died. 

We also visited a house that the orphanage on Ile-a-Vache owns. The kids move to the orphanage when they are going to high school and college. We met a guy, Damien, from Ireland. He works with the orphanage and many other missions in Haiti. They have a farm that they teach people how to become farmers so they are able to support themselves. He also works with different businesses and teaches them how to do business plans. He gets different businesses together to buy their supplies at wholesale prices. He also works with the mayor and a committee to get the nonprofit groups to work together and get more done. 

We then went down to the beach and walked around and found a hotel, gym, and cafe all in one. The guy that built it was a Haitian American from Jacksonville Florida. He gave us a tour and told us he intends to bring medical teams to do work in the local community. We left the Haitian American and stayed at Dave's house over night. Dave's house is in a new subdivision near the area and they are going to build a new international airport close by. The house is still under construction but was very nice. Dave was very hospitable and gave up his room for us to sleep in.

Sunday morning we had the baptism of Odlins nephew, Allen. Tom and Jaime were the God parents. Church started at 7:30 and of course we showed up Haitian time and were late, so we ended up standing outside which was not bad. It was a Catholic church and we didn't understand much but it was nice. The Baptism was scheduled for after the Church service and was very proper and beautiful. The preacher discovered right away that there were English speaking  people so he did the entire service in Haitian Creole and English. We recorded it so we might load that when we get back. When he put the water on the baby he used a squirt bottle and squirted him with it and then he used oil on his forehead. 

After the Baptism we dropped Odlins family off and went back to Dave's house to change clothes and eat one more time before we embarked on the trip home. We were excited to get back to HAPI knowing that Valerie (co-founder of HAPI and American contact) would be there. We were also looking foward to internet so we could have some contact with loved ones. The trip back seemed to take less time, which was nice. The trip was long but we are all glad we made the trip. The ladies in Mizak had dinner ready for us shortly after our arrival. Pastor Paul had people working on his dining area all weekend and they are tiling the table as I'm writing this. The space is looking good. Tonight will be a relaxing evening so we can work hard tomorrow. Tonight we'll get a little rest and head out early Tuesday morning for home.

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Jaime here:

On the way home from Les Cayes, I was riding in the far back of the van listening to some jams. The Song Grace Like Rain by Todd Agnew consumed my headphones and grabbed my attention. Some of the lyrics read,

"And hallelujah,
Grace Like Rain falls down on me
And hallelujah,
And all my stains are washed away -
They're washed away...

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed"

As the song continued, I noticed the van was pretty much raging against the road. I was relaxed so my body was lifted when we crashed against the harsh bumps in the road. I look up to the sky and see mountains beyond mountains. To me, the wonderful sight of the mountains resembled redemption. The bumpy roads represented a battle for the soul and the straight and narrow path that He calls me to daily. God knows His grace is the only thing that keeps me going because without Him I am nothing. From His beautiful self, he crafted together creation. We are all worthy of being pursued because God Himself, who is the definition of Love, took His time and gave us life. 

There's a verse that reads, "I have set you an example that you do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them."

I believe God's love is equal so ours should be dispersed evenly also.

Love is...

 v  Odlin sharing his family with us this weekend.

 v  Tom carrying a bucket of water for me early in the morning just because I wanted to take a shower.

 v  Ulrick telling us to thank God before we fall asleep at Dave's house.

Haiti Team #1: Day 8

Another day of clouds and sun with temps in the 80's.  No rain today. The day started with another great breakfast. A big THANK YOU to the ladies in the kitchen and the staff at HAPI.  The hospitality has been wonderful.  Today was laundry day so we got the laundry together that we are going to need clean before we leave and they are taking care of that for us.

The artisans set up shop in the Merlet Center for us at about 10 o'clock this morning. They have done a good job of creating some new and beautiful artwork.  We all shopped and will be bringing some things home with us.

Not much different as far as jobs at the work site. Tom and Odlin have the wood cut for the last door frame.  All they have to do is put it up on Monday, and all the door frames will be done. Darryl and Dave got the gutters half way around the building which is all the materials they have now.  Then they joined forces with Jaime and Ulrick on the painting mission. The outside of the second floor of the building is now painted and the first floor will get started on Monday.  The tile guys made good progress today.  They tell me the artisans room will be tiled by close of business on Monday. Which is great news. The bustle of activity continued on the building all week and a lot has been done. It has been nice to see all the improvements from day to day.   We will have pictures when we get home on Tuesday evening.

After work Jaime, Ulrick, and Tom went to have pizza at Angelica's house.  They said it was real good.  The rest of the gang hung out at the house and had dinner. Tonight everyone is showered and getting ready for our trip to Les Ceyes, Haiti in the morning. We will be staying there overnight at Dave's house. He also visited our church this summer with Tom. He had stayed with Tom for a couple days while in the U.S.A. While in Les Ceyes we will see Odlin's nephew get baptized, hopefully see some old friends, and do some site seeing. We will return to HAPI in time for dinner Sunday.  Not sure about internet access this weekend so might be Sunday night or Monday before the blog gets to you. Until then God Bless. 

Haiti Team #1: Day 7

I woke to another beautiful day that God has made. A mix of sun and clouds all day with a few short rain showers mixed in today. The ladies made us the scrambled eggs with peppers and onions for breakfast again... yum yum. Then off to work again. Tom and Odlin were back to door frames. 

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Dave and Darryl were put back in the gutter, or on putting gutters up. Jaime and Ulrick were back on painting the outside of the building. They are finding out that the building is very big. At lunch time we all took a walk to The Living Media Gallery. Some of us bought some artwork and we got to visit with Angelica for awhile. There was a lot of very beautiful art work there.  After work another great dinner, and then Tom and Odlin went to visit friends.  Jaime, Darryl and Dave hung out with the kids on the porch and went to bed a little early when the generator ran out of gas.

Our time here has flown by and a lot of work has been done, but we are all missing our families back home. Can't wait to see everyone and be able to upload all the pictures. The internet has been very slow to upload pictures so we will wait to upload them until we get home. Friday's blog will be up soon.

Haiti Team #1: Day 6

Well, the roosters finally won and woke all of us up after crowing since about four o'clock in the morning. Dave says the dogs bark until two and the roosters start at four. Regardless, we have been able to sleep thru them more this year than in the past. We had some kind of hot cereal that was good and then we went off to work. 

Darryl started the day trying to help the tile guy, but with a lack of tools he just slowed him down. Dave finished the front wall with the stucco and then he and Darryl started on the gutters. The gutters are 4" pvc pipe cut in half and screwed and strapped to the building. All you see is the pipe and no hangers and it looks good. Tom and Odlin went back to the door frames after spending much time looking for tools, like charged batteries and electricity, they persevered. They were able to get some door frames done. Jaime and Ulrick went to the national high school in the morning and took some pictures of the 8 -13yr old girls who belong to HAPI's dance group, Nouvel Etwal (New Stars). They visited and came back to the work site and started painting again. 

The walls inside the building are made of Styrofoam and wire with re-bar down into the floor and throughout the wall.  They tie the panels together, then they spray two layers of cement on them inside and out (with a gun like you would spray a textured ceiling).  After that, the Haitian workers hand trowel the final coat of cement onto a smooth finish and paint it. They are getting more and more of them finished, but of course everyone wishes more of them were done already. I think they should finish the spraying of the walls today.

The ladies cooked an amazing dinner. They had put a pan of mashed potatoes in the solar oven for the day, which was very good and thick.  We also had some rice, chicken in sauce, salad, and vanilla and chocolate & mint cookies. We then hung out with the locals and played cards for awhile. Dave stayed at Paul's house and played another game with 3 kids, Doris, McKenzie, and Magena. Tom, Odlin, Darryl, Urick, Jaime, and a few of the locals decided to try and see Angelica again. We walked down to the Living Media gallery, then to Lee's house, and then back down to the Living Media Guest house. We never did find Angelica but we did find the team from Iowa that is doing some work with Living Media and spent time getting to know them for awhile. One of their team members, Rick, grew up in Reading MI. It was nice to get out and walk around.