Thursday morning snark

snarky:
adj \ˈsnär-kē\
sarcastic, impertinent,

or irreverent in tone or manner

This week and next United Methodist delegates from around the world are gathering in Tampa, Florida for our General Conference.  GC is the decision making body for the denomination and essentially their job while there is to set the course for the church for the next four years.

There's been a lot of snark on twitter and Facebook about all sorts of aspects of the gathering thus far; from worship to parliamentary procedure to representation on committees.  Trying to keep up with it all could be all consuming...I am guilty of watching off and on throughout my day.  I will admit that I am scanning twitter more too - it is kinda fun to live vicariously through the event.

Because so many of us who are commenting are hundreds of miles away there is an unhealthy sense of freedom to toss a jab here and there, and I myself am guilty of doing so.

I didn't give it much thought until this morning when I was in the church kitchen looking for a plastic spoon.  I found them here:

When I opened the door I found more than I bargained for, tada! Plastic spoons, forks and knives on the shelf of the dumbwaiter?  The dumbwaiter is a relic from the days of shuttling coffee fellowship supplies upstairs to the church parlor.  Somewhere along the line the dumbwaiter has been repurposed as a storage cabinet.

Why?  Well I assume its because someone - one day long ago - probably thought that putting SOMETHING there would likely prevent the young people from playing in it - and it is a convenient and unused place in the kitchen after all...sigh.

I wonder how many of my predecessors talked to the kitchen ladies about the use of the dumbwaiter (let alone the location of the plastic stuff), or maybe they just walked away and let them do their own thing...either out of respect for their 'sacred' space or out of fear for making them angry.

I am not sure that I am ready to dive into that conversation either, but it does make me look at myself and what I am doing as a church leader.  Does what I do make sense to those who are not familiar with the Christian faith?  Am I open to rearranging things that may have made sense in the past for the sake of clarity and for the essential work that the church is called to - sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ?

I wonder how many of us have taken a good look at our own houses recently with a loving and yet critical eye - to consider thoughtfully if we as a community of faith are truly open to receiving the least and the lost, the stranger and the unchurched with open arms and with radical hospitality?  And let's push beyond physical space - I am as guilty as anyone else of using the vocabulary that I learned by virtue of my seminary education, but is this really going to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world?  These are the questions and the issues that I do have some control over, and this is where I need to turn my energy in the days and weeks ahead.

I do not envy my sisters and brothers in Tampa, they are under a great deal of pressure to make legislation (and some even believe these decisions are essential to save the church) all of this in a very brief amount of time (not that I think that legislation will really save the church - but that discussion is for another day).

I need to remember that it is first and foremost about Jesus - and by the grace of God I am called to serve in times such as these, as are those who are on the ground in Tampa.  I need to give up the snark, drink another cup of tea and spend more time on my knees in prayer for those who are bearing this burden.   Then I think I'll take a walk around and see what I can do to make our house of worship a place that is open and loving to all.

in Christ, together,
Deborah

Good Friday?

Five years ago today when Justin was 8, he was hurt by another boy on the playground.  Since then we call Good Friday, "bad Friday."  I wrote about it here.

Anne Sexton (1928-1974)

There's not much that I can add to what I wrote last year - but it's refreshing to see that there are others burdened by Good Friday and Easter too for that matter.  Anne Sexton (1928-1974) was a poet famous for her highly personal poems.  She wrote from the 1950's until her death, she also won a Pulitzer Prize in 1967.   I came across her poem, Protestant Easter, this morning.

For the past few months I have enjoyed an app. on my cellphone called, Show of Hands.  Its a Mobile Poll that asks all sorts of interesting questions.  Just the other day there were questions about the election, fast food, and whether or not I'd be attending religious services on Easter Sunday.  I was surprised to see that only 42% of the over 15,000 people who responded are going to a worship service this weekend!  There must be something terribly wrong about how we've been sharing the 'Good News' of God's love and grace if such a high percentage of folks don't want anything to do with the biggest celebration of our faith.

Perhaps this poem by Anne Sexton, written from the point of view of an 8 year old, is a clue about how we seem to those on the outside.   I find it an interesting lens to view Easter as I ponder what happened on the cross so many years ago.

"Protestant Easter" by Anne Sexton

eight years old

When he was a little boy
Jesus was good all the time.
No wonder that he grew up to be such a big shot
who could forgive people so much.
When he died everyone was mean.
Later on he rose when no one else was looking.
Either he was hiding or else
he went up.
Maybe he was only hiding?
Maybe he could fly?

Yesterday I found a purple crocus
blowing its way out of the snow.
It was all alone.
It was getting its work done.
Maybe Jesus was only getting his work done
and letting God blow him off the Cross
and maybe he was afraid for a minute
so he hid under the big stones.
He was smart to go to sleep up there
even though his mother got so sad
and let them put him in a cave.
I sat in a tunnel when I was five.
That tunnel, my mother said,
went straight into the big river
and so I never went again.
Maybe Jesus knew my tunnel
and crawled right through to the river
so he could wash all the blood off.
Maybe he only meant to get clean
and then come back again?
Don't tell me that he went up in smoke
like Daddy's cigar!
He didn't blow out like a match!
It is special
being here at Easter
with the Cross they built like a capital T.
The ceiling is an upside-down rowboat.
I usually count its ribs.
Maybe he was drowning?
Or maybe we are all upside down?
I can see the face of a mouse inside
of all that stained-glass window.
Well, it could be a mouse!
Once I thought the Bunny Rabbit was special
and I hunted for eggs.
That's when I was seven.
I'm grownup now. Now it's really Jesus.
I just have to get Him straight.
And right now.

Who are we anyhow?
What do we belong to?
Are we a we?
I think that he rose
but I'm not quite sure
and they don't really say
singing their Alleluia
in the churchy way.
Jesus was on that Cross.
After that they pounded nails into his hands.
After that, well, after that,
everyone wore hats
and then there was a big stone rolled away
and then almost everyone --
the ones who sit up straight --
looked at the ceiling.

Alleluia they sing.
They don't know.
They don't care if he was hiding or flying.
Well, it doesn't matter how he got there.
It matters where he was going.
The important thing for me
is that I'm wearing white gloves.
I always sit straight.
I keep on looking at the ceiling.
And about Jesus,
they couldn't be sure of it,
not so sure of it anyhow,
so they decided to become Protestants.
Those are the people that sing
when they aren't quite
sure.

- Anne Sexton, from Live or Die, 1966 Houghton Mifflin Co.

It was on Thursday...Holy Week musings

The past week I had the opportunity to travel through some familiar country, specifically Tennessee and Georgia, where I spent 23 years of my life.  One of the things about driving through these places was remembering the sights and sounds of shared experiences with family and friends.  Go figure, some of the most powerful memories were around food.

When I got to Atlanta, I drove down Ponce de Leon, past the first place I worked (its now a spiffy car wash), I tried to go to Bobby and June's, a restaurant near Turner Broadcasting, but they're closed now.  I spent a few minutes on the outskirts of Newnan, near where we lived last and was so saddened by the endless strip malls that I got back on the highway as quickly as I could.

I did get to have a terrific meal of catfish at a little state park north of Nashville, the veggie plate (and peach cobbler for dessert) at Mary Mac's, and a Frosted Orange at the Varsity next to Georgia Tech.  Simple meals, but sitting there in those places brought back so many memories.

Whether its a big family dinner or a simple meal with a friend, there is something special about the many senses that are engaged as we break bread together.  I think this is why God ordered the Hebrew people to share the Passover meal each year, a meal loaded with symbolism and memories, so that they would never forget their story.

It was the same with Jesus, as he broke bread with the disciples at the Passover meal on what would be His Last Supper.  He didn't want them to forget what it was like to be with him, but also what it was like to be in unity with one another.  The food would nourish them all for the journey through Christ's passion, and it would also sustain them just as it sustains us for life's journey.

Today is Maundy Thursday, the day the church gathers to break bread with one another and meditate about Jesus' Last Supper.  Today I remember those whom I have had the blessing to break bread with in my life...from special sit down meals to an ordinary sandwich, you have blessed me along the way, and I say a prayer for you, that you are well.

I also pray that you may know the love of God, a love so powerful that compelled Jesus to give his life for us - and he prepared his disciples for what was to happen when he took bread and broke it and said 'this is my body, broken for you."  And then he lifted the cup of wine and said; "this is my blood of the new covenant, poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins."  "Whenever you are together, do this in remembrance of me."

Today we break bread and drink from the cup in remembrance of Him.  One day, I look forward to feasting together at the heavenly banquet with you, my friends.

in Christ, together,
Deborah

Holy Week musings

Lt Col Elizabeth Coble
(aka my little sister)

Over the past week I have done quite a bit of driving.  When I left home I had a plan in place - a destination and a time line.  I knew where I needed to be when so that I could meet up with my sister who was finally coming home after 20 months of deployment in Afghanistan.

Sadly, the US Army and I didn't coordinate things very well, and I found myself with a few extra days on my hands.  So, I looked for a place in the hills of southeast Tennessee to have a mini-retreat.  I was on vacation after all.  The kind folks at Beersheba Springs Assembly United Methodist Camp provided wonderful accommodations, and the weather and scenery couldn't have been more beautiful.

the chapel, Beersheba Springs
Assembly UM camp

As I packed the vehicle Monday morning to continue my journey to meet up with Liz in the Atlanta area a 2nd email came, saying that she wouldn't arrive until Thursday.  But wait!  My flight out of Atlanta is for Wednesday!  grrrr... another change of plans...another detour...another readjustment in expectations.

It's not the end of the world, I keep reminding myself.  It is just going to be different from what I had envisioned.  (I say this as two friends from seminary sit in a hospital room in Iowa City with their 8 year old son who had major surgery a couple of weeks ago.  I have NOTHING to complain about in comparison to the burdens they are dealing with right now.  Please pray for Drew and his parents Jaye and Amy Johnson, and sister Allie.)

I took advantage of the extra time to go to lunch at one of my favorite places in Atlanta, Mary Mac's, and I took in some of the sights of the city before heading to my hotel.  I had a quiet evening, finished up some reading and watched the end of the basketball game.  But it still wasn't what I had planned or prepared for...sigh.

In the midst of Holy Week, as I prepare for the worship services ahead and the range of emotions that come with The Last Supper, Good Friday and Easter Sunday, I can really empathize with the disciples.

Tuesday of Holy Week is traditionally when we remember Jesus' heated encounter with the temple authorities.  From the triumphant welcome of Jesus and his disciples on Palm Sunday to the shouting match with the pharisees (see Matthew 21 and Mark 11) the whole mood of the city changed in that instant and it wasn't pretty.  I can hear the 12 muttering under their breath, "What next?  Where is he taking us now?  What are we supposed to learn from this?"

As I meditate on the events of Jesus' last days on earth, I can see that normal is relative, that we are at our best AND our worst when plans change.

It is my prayer this day that I can find a way to let go of my expectations for everything to be 'just so' and embrace changes in plans as part of a grand adventure.  I know in my head that God is in the midst of things - now I need to be especially vigilant to see Him along the edges.  Let it be so, dear Lord, let it be so.

in Christ, together,
Deborah

I came across this quote from Mother Teresa while at Beersheba Springs Assembly, it seems especially appropriate for Holy Week.

It is necessary that we find God, 

and God cannot be found in noise and unpeace.... 

See how Nature--trees, flowers and grass--grow in stillness; 

how stars, moon and sun run their course in silence. 

The more we receive through quiet prayer, 

the more we can give in the activity of our daily lives. 

In essence, it is not what we say, 

but what God says to us and through us. 

All our words are useless if they do not come from within. 

Words that do not carry the light of Christ only increase the darkness.

confession...its good for the soul

I have a confession to make.

I didn't give up anything for Lent.  I ate a chocolate bar last week.  I had fried chicken for dinner last night.  I'm not even reading the books that I set aside to read during these 40 days of Lent, a time that has traditionally been set aside for introspection and penitence.

Instead, I'm reading novels.  NOVELS!

I haven't read a novel since...well, before Christmas.  When I walk by Mary, our Administrative Assistant's, desk I will often take a caramel, or Tootsie Roll or (gasp) a Hershey's Kiss!  I'm even planning on taking some vacation time - in the middle of Lent - what am I thinking?!?  Oooo, here's something else - I still use real butter, eat processed foods, and meat on Fridays.  And I stayed in bed till after 9 this morning.  (ok, if I'm really confessing it was after 10 till I got up and moving).

And I'm ok with it.

Its not that I don't believe in fasting, I do.  Its not that I am being cavalier about the season of Lent, I'm fully aware of the many ways that people of faith have used the season of Lent to focus on Christ's life, death and resurrection.

Its just that, well, I'm tired.  And after walking alongside 6 different families who have faced the death and funerals of loved ones since Christmas - I am tired of dwelling in darkness.  I have been in the tomb a number of times here lately and I want to live in the light and hope of the resurrection for a while.

We ARE resurrection people.  This is why Sundays aren't included in Lenten countdown - they are 'mini-Easters' and are to be celebrated as each Sunday is, as we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.  And the reality is that Lent is not meant to be a time to be miserable and sad in preparation for Good Friday.

My denomination has a resource for Lenten observation that says:  "Every week, [in Lent] we draw nearer to our need for Christ and the realization that the Spirit gives us what we need to live our baptismal vows to renounce the evil powers of this world, walk away from our sinful ways, resist evil, injustice and oppression in every way they present themselves, and entrust our whole lives to the grace and Lordship of Jesus."  (gbod.org/worship Planning Lent and Easter)  Want to learn more?  Click here 

I honestly couldn't continue doing what I do without the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit!  I also know that one of the most important things that I can do for myself and the folks I walk alongside is, well, I need to take care of myself.

This whole Lent thing isn't as much about what we give up as it is about journeying together under the love, mercy and grace of our Triune God.  This I will do with great hope and expectation as we tell the stories of how God lives and moves within our lives.

Whether you personally have given something up for Lent or taken something new on - it is my prayer that during Lent you are drawn closer to God's love and the community you are a part of...oh and for some fun watch the movie "Chocolat".  It's a real treat with a powerful message about the season of Lent!

peace, love in Christ,

Deborah

3 weeks and counting

Zayden Michael Loonsfoot

Three weeks ago today baby Zayden entered our lives.  In the time since his arrival we have had amazing adventures and even some scary moments.

Labor went longer than expected, and at 4:54am on January 26th Zayden Michael was delivered by C-section.  My daughter, Lauren, and her husband Bryan asked me to be in the labor and delivery room.  The hardest thing was seeing them wheel toward the operating room for the c-section - but all went well and Lauren and Bryan were rewarded with a healthy (and beautiful) 8 pound 10 ounce, 20 inch long baby boy.

first family photo:
Bryan, Zayden and Lauren

After a few days in the hospital Lauren and Zayden arrived home and I headed out of town for a week of continuing ed.  The other grandma Deb (Bryan's mom) held down the fort while I spent time in Nashville doing some research and connecting with the fine folks at the United Methodist General Board of Discipleship and the Upper Room.

Anticipating a winter storm I left Nashville a day early and not long after I crossed the Iowa state line my daughter called to tell me that she was on the way to the doctor's office because she wasn't feeling so well.  By the time I was back in Waverly Lauren was in the Emergency room with chest and back pain and a low pulse.  Later that night Lauren was admitted for observation and Bryan took the baby home.  I spent the night with Lauren.  Early Saturday morning the Doctor came in and said she wanted Lauren to be seen by some heart specialists, so it was off to Waterloo's Allen Hospital.

Lauren and Zayden

Overnight Lauren's pulse was in the low 30's.  While resting it was in the low 40's.  A normal pulse is 70-90 beats per minute, unless you're Lance Armstrong of course.   More tests were called for so I made some phone calls to parishioners and without batting an eye Sunday worship was covered.  I am so grateful for everyone's willingness to help out at the last moment!

The prayer warriors of Trinity United Methodist Church and friends across the country through the power of social media (Facebook) covered Lauren with prayers...so it was a matter of time, more tests and finally the treatment of letting some medicine do its thing to take the fluid off of her lungs to relieve the pressure on her heart.

Grandma and Zayden

Lauren was finally released from the hospital late in the afternoon on Monday, February 6th.  On Tuesday we traveled to Iowa City to meet with the cardiologists at the University of Iowa Hospital.  They did a wonderful job explaining the situation and we were assured that there was no permanent damage and in time Lauren's pulse would return to 'normal'.

And so - here we are - three weeks later with a sweet baby Zayden who really is thriving from all of the attention he's getting from his uncles and grandparents let alone mom and dad.  Lauren is on the mend and I am finally caught up and able to blog again.

Happy three week birthday, Zayden - you are a precious child of God and you are loved so very much!  And thank you Lauren and Bryan for letting me be part of these past few weeks.  I am blessed too.

in Christ, together,
Deborah

a brand new day

Today (or sometime in the wee hours of the morning tomorrow) I will be a grandmother.

Quite frankly, I'm still not sure how I feel about this...I'm not OLD enough to be a grandma.  My daughter is not old enough to be a mother for that matter - I just brought her home from the hospital a few months ago!  Ok, its been nearly 23 years but it seems like yesterday at times.

And wrapped up in all of this is my own angst, I don't know what a grandmother looks like.   My own mom died long before I had children - and I don't know what to do.  What if I mess things up?  What if the world that I am part of isn't good enough for my grand son?  What if I can't protect him from the hurts and pains of life?

Deep breath...ready or not there will be a new addition to the family in the next 24 hours.  A little baby boy who already has a name:  Zayden Michael.

Welcome to the world Zayden Michael Loonsfoot.  I can't make a whole lot of promises other than I will love you lots - and give you a cookie whenever you want one - cause I think that's what grandmas are supposed to do.

Peace, hope and joy,
Deborah aka 'grandma'