Wife, Mother, Pastor

The Latest on Mum...

2012-02-01T06:03:00.003-05:00

..and it's good news!

Mum was transferred to the rehab facility yesterday! She is not pain-free, but is in significantly less pain. She was awake and alert. She also walked--thirty steps--with a walker. Praise God for the progress she has made.

Doctors and therapists have said that is likely that Mum will regain her ability to dress and feed herself, but that she will require twenty-four hour care for her remaining days. At this point, we're hopeful that she will move in with one of her children, who has been preparing for this eventuality, but the decision will be in her hands. If she chooses to reside in an assisted living home, we will support her. We will know in a few weeks.

A Tribute to Mum

2012-01-29T17:46:00.001-05:00

When her eldest son was born, Mum's mother didn't want to be called "Grandma," so it was decreed that she would be "Mom" to her grandchildren, just as she'd been for her children. My mother-in-law, who prefers to avoid conflict at all cost, acquiesced to her mother's demand and became "Mum" to her children. Most of us in-laws use the same endearment for her.

Mum is ninety-one years old. She married a Roman Catholic man back in the days when a Lutheran/Roman Catholic union was considered a mixed marriage. Before they were married, her husband-to-be promised his priest that any children they had would be brought to the Catholic church. Mum encouraged him to keep that promise when their first child was born but, when he did not do so, she had no reluctance to bring him to the font. In the end, all ten of their children were baptized and confirmed in her own Lutheran congregation and the priest at his parish excommunicated my father-in-law.

Still, Dad encouraged the children to go to church. No, that's not quite right. Dad didn't give them a choice. He fully supported Mum's desire that they attend worship; they were required to go to church. Sports...social events....school....nothing was permitted to interfere with their attendance at worship. Dad attended with the family only rarely, for special events (usually baptisms, weddings and funerals). One of my husband's fondest memories from his youth is seeing his father sitting in the congregation while Don and Ron (the youngest) were Confirmed.

Despite the fact that their father only rarely attended worship with them, all ten children remain actively involved in their congregations today. Nine remain Lutheran; one of them has joined a Missouri Synod congregation, because there is no ELCA congregation nearby. The tenth "turned Catholic" (Mum's language for it) when he was married. Most of the children are grandparents themselves (only the twins are not) now. And they continue to serve in congregational leadership positions, teach Sunday School, and chaperone youth events. I have no doubt that Mum's faithfulness is the model for her children.

Don and I had been dating for about a month and a half when he took me to meet his family. I didn't know it at the time, but I was the first woman who then-forty-year-old Don had brought home as a girlfriend. Mum, you will know, grasped the significance of the event much more deeply than I did. She greeted me joyfully, with a warm hug and kiss, and proceeded to spend the weekend modeling the kind of hospitality that I only hope my own guests feel in my home.

Less than two months later, when Don called to tell her that he'd proposed marriage--and that I'd said "Yes," her response was an unsurprised, "That's nice." From the very first day of our marriage, Mum has treated me like family. No, that's not quite accurate. Even before we were married, Mum included me as one of the family. When she calls and I answer the phone, she doesn't ask for Don; she simply fills me in on the family news and then, almost as an afterthought, asks to speak with her son. (For the record, she does the same if he answers the phone. She'll share all the news with him, and then touch base with me.)

My son is Mum's 70th descendent. Jason is grandchild number 27 and, by the time he was born, she'd already celebrated the births of 33 great-grandchildren. As a new mom, I was a bit worried about taking my baby to visit with her. Deep down in my heart, I was more than half-afraid that Mum would look at him as "just another baby." Of course, she did no such thing. I still remember placing my newborn son in her arms and seeing the same sense of awe and wonder that she'd have had for her own firstborn as she cooed and said, "Oh, you're a pretty baby. Grandma loves you." The memory brings tears to my eyes, just as the reality did. If I didn't already love her by then, that would've done it!

I have countless other memories of Mum's love. As I type this, she is hospitalized in the Intensive Care Unit following a stroke. The first forty-eight hours have passed and she has not progressed at the rate we had hoped. She has only occasional moments of lucidity (and gave a gift to my son when she recognized him during one of them yesterday). Her left side is weak and she is in a great deal of pain. Her neurologist has told us that day five (two days from now) is our next milestone. Many family members are keeping vigil at the hospital. We were there ourselves this weekend. We are waiting, watching and praying. But we are not particularly hopeful.

In the midst if the fear, pain and (yes) grief, though, there is joy. Mum loves all of us. And because of her love, we know Jesus' love. We also know that even if death takes Mum, it is not the end of her journey. She will spend eternity the same way that she spent her earthly life--in the light and love of our Savior, without her present suffering!

The three generations at Christmas:

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Odds and Ends

2012-01-27T07:24:00.001-05:00

Over at RevGals, Sally writes: I have had a ridiculously busy week so apologies for the fact that this is rushed and even a bit late, but here goes, even in the busyness of the week what has

1. Inspired you: My son. He's only six but has more medical specialists in his life than my husband and I combined. This week, we had to take him in for a CT scan of his sinuses. He was anxious about it but, as usual for him, made no fuss when it was time for the test. He's AWESOME!

2. Challenged you: This week's sermon. I'm using 1 Corinthians 8:1-13 as my primary text for preaching and it's been harder than I expected. This is one of "those" weeks, when I'm wrestling because *'m feeling really directed by God, but I'm struggling to put what God is sending me into words that will work for my congregation. (Does that make sense?)

3. Made you smile: The CT technician, whose patience for my son's questions helped him feel comfortable with the test she was about to perform.

4. Made you cross/ made you want to weep: At 6:25 yesterday morning, we got the phone call we've been dreading for years. My 91 year old mother-in-law was in the Intensive Care Unit of her local hospital. She was bleeding in her brain. It is now 24 hours later and things are still "touch and go." She's been strong, healthy and independent. It's looking like that will no longer be true. And I'm sad.

5.Kept you going?: Faithful friends and colleagues. My husband was supposed to lead a funeral today. Instead, we're going down to visit with Mum. I'm grateful for the colleague who didn't even hesitate when we called to ask him to take the funeral. I'm appreciative of prayers--for Mum, for her care providers, and for our family. Who knew Facebook could be such a gift as people offer their love through the computer?!

More on Prayer--help wanted

2012-01-03T09:50:00.002-05:00

I'm mentally processing my next newsletter article. Since the last one was about ceaseless prayer, I'd like to address the the issue of unanswered prayer. Please send me an e-mail and/or comment here any questions or thoughts you may have. Sadly, much of what I've heard about this issue is similar to what is posted here and makes me cringe. It is, at best, crappy theology. At worst, it's dangerous and damaging to faithful people who are hurting.

In the meantime, here are my initial thoughts: A few years ago, several members of a friend's congregation traveled with a group of local high school students on a trip to Europe. Before the students and teachers left, the congregation gathered them for prayer. In addition to prayers for fun and fellowship, the congregation prayed for the safety of the group. Not long after the plane took off, it crashed. All of the students and their chaperones, along with the other passengers, were killed.

Children are stillborn, despite prayers for their (and their mothers') health and safety. Divorce happens, even in the most devout and God-centered families. Cancer strikes Christians with no less aggression than it hits others. Our nation's recent financial crisis, now named "The Great Recession", has hurt faithful Christians with the same vengeance as it has hit others.

On a personal note, I have spent countless prayer-filled hours asking God to repair whatever it is that causes my son's seizures. Other parents utter similar prayers for their children's health, yet still deal with ongoing concerns.

Even the most righteous prayers seem to go unanswered.....or even, from our human perspective, unheard.

***********
And here's where I'm trying to sort out the rest of the story. I have some thoughts, but nothing that I can verbalize coherently yet so, as I mentioned in the opening paragraph, I welcome YOUR comments!

Pray Without Ceasing

2011-12-18T08:15:00.002-05:00

Newsletter Article--January/February 2012

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances;for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Variations of the word “pray” are used over five hundred times in the New Revised Standard Version of the Holy Bible. This includes “praying,” “prayer,” “prayed,” and all other forms of the word. It is a familiar word to Christians; I would venture to say that most of us would find it a familiar act, as well. We may even pray several times daily, both in private, personal prayer, and with our families, friends and other loved ones when we gather for fellowship or meals.

I’m sure it will not surprise you when I say that prayer is a frequent occurrence in our family. We pray over family meals and before bed. We utter a short and simple prayer every time we hear the fire whistle. (“Dear God, watch over the firefighters and whoever they’re going to help. Amen.”) We pray for our friends, family members and other loved ones every time we hear of a need. I suspect that our family is not completely unique in our prayer life.

Many of you, like my family and countless Christians around the world, pray often. How many of us, though, follow St. Paul’s above-cited advice for prayer? What does it mean to “pray without ceasing”? Is it even possible to do that?

Origen, a second-century Christian theologian wrote, “He prays without ceasing who joins his works to his prayer and prayer to his works.”

Did you ever commit to praying for even a relatively short period of time…say, ten minutes? I’ve done it. More accurately, I’ve tried to do it. Inevitably, my mind starts to wander and I catch myself reflecting on what I’m going to cook for dinner, the time and date of the next doctor appointment for someone in my family, what Sunday’s sermon topic might be, or any number of other distractions.

Practicing prayer as Origen describes allows us the freedom of understanding that the things which we might identify as “interruptions” to our prayer life are actually worthy of lifting to God in the midst of our prayers. We can, in fact, use them to direct our prayer life.

Every ounce of food that makes it to my family’s dinner table comes to us from God’s provision; I can thank God for that grace even before I prepare the meal, not simply when we sit down to eat it. Medical appointments offer me the opportunity to pray for those who provide such care for us, as well as the health of the person whose appointment is approaching. Sermon thoughts, of course, can be offered to God as I ask for direction, guidance, or wisdom as I seek to proclaim the Good News of Jesus’ death and resurrection to the congregation I have been called to serve. This is what it means to join our works to our prayer and our prayer to our works.

This is also, I believe, what prayer without ceasing looks like in daily life. Ceaseless prayer is not endless hours spent on our knees with our heads bowed down. It is not a heavy burden for us to bear. It is a life centered in God so that all of our day-to-day concerns become prayers lifted to our Lord. It is also an ever-present reminder of the Savior’s love and grace.

Yoursin Christ,
Pastor Beth

Our First Kiss

2011-12-13T09:24:00.000-05:00

Don and I had been dating for about three weeks. By that, I mean that we'd had about three actual "dates"....the kind where we'd make formal plans to get together. At the same time, though, we saw one another daily. We would sit together for noonday worship at seminary, chat over lunch, and meet again for compline in the evening, after which he would walk me back to my apartment. I couldn't tell you how many hours we'd spent together during those three weeks.

I had offered to fix dinner for Don's birthday, which is on December 8. It was a Wednesday evening that year. For a variety of reasons, we ended up setting up our dinner date on Sunday evening, December 12.

Confession time: By that point, I'd become a bit anxious and frustrated. I was deeply attracted to my now-husband and he seemed to return my interest. Aside from hugging (always at the end of a date), though, Don had made no open show of affection for me. And dang it, I wanted a kiss!

Both of us like movie musicals so, in advance of the date, I'd rented My Fair Lady from the local Blockbuster store. We had raviolis for dinner. I'd also baked him a birthday cake--devil's food with Funfetti icing. (It's fun for me to remember the details!)

Back in ye olden days, movies like My Fair Lady were on VHS tapes, not DVDs. And that particular movie was long enough to require two cassettes, the first of which ended at the movie's intermission. During the break, I made a trip to the restroom, while Don made himself at home grabbing a drink from my kitchen. We both walked back into my living room at the same time and, as we did, he reached out for a hug offering me the reassurance, "I'm not getting ready to leave, I just really wanted to hug you."

I took advantage of the moment and snagged a kiss, as well....and we walked to the sofa, snuggled in together and spent the rest of the evening kissing and talking. I ended up returning the movie, with the second tape completely unwatched.

It's a happy memory!

Racism Reflections

2011-12-05T08:31:00.001-05:00

My evening adult Bible Study group decided to spend some time exploring the Social Statements of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. We looked at summaries of all of them and, after some discussion, settled on Race, Ethnicity and Culture as our first one. Last month, we spent quite a bit of time talking about our own experiences. We were honest enough to admit that each of us has racist tendencies, many of which are so deeply ingrained and subtle that we are unaware of them until someone else names them. We are a small group of people who have met together frequently enough to be trusting so that, when that naming happens, we can hear what is said without feeling attacked. The group will, I suspect, end up being a gift!

As I finalize preparations for tonight's study, I've been thinking about a few things. I remember my friend Edith. More than two decades ago, we worked together at McDonald's. There were many differences between us. She was more than a decade older than I. She was married; I was single. She was a mother; I was not. She had dropped out of high school when she became pregnant; I was a college student. And she was black. Yes, that's right. She was black. That was her own self-identifier. She did not like the then "politically correct" term "African American."

You see, Edith's self-understanding was that she was as American as I was and her African heritage did not change that. She noted that those of us whose skin is lighter than hers do not generally self-identify as "Polish American" (in my case) or "German American" or even "European American." "Why," she asked, "do those of us whose skin is different have to be identified as 'African American' or 'Asian American' as if we are somehow less American than you?"

I had no answer for her. I still don't.

Another thing that I remember about Edith is her overhearing a conversation between customers and turning to ask me, "Am I your black friend? Or am I your friend?"

Not having heard the conversation that prompted the question, I was momentarily taken aback but came up with the answer, "You're my friend!"

"Good," she said, "I don't want to be your black friend," and then she explained her comment. One of the customers had commented disdainfully on the number of minority employees our restaurant had. The other noted that s/he had "some black friends," and expressed discomfort with the first person's observation.
Edith noted that anyone who classifies their friends by their skin color wasn't, in her mind, a real friend.

I was young and pretty naive when we were friends. Edith was protective and kind. I lost touch with her when I graduated from the local community college and went away to the university. I wish I could tell her how much she continues to influence me. It's not necessarily that I believe that her perspective is "right," but at times like this, it's definitely food for thought. Racism and cultural assumptions can cause separation and be painful to others, even when there is no intention of such.

I'm not Sarah!

2011-12-05T07:20:00.000-05:00

And Don's not Abraham. (And thanks be to God on both counts!)

I shared this on Facebook, but wanted to post it here as well.

A couple of weeks ago, we were at our local florist's shop looking for a unique Christmas gift for someone. In our small town, everyone knows--and (mostly) loves--everyone so we were chatting with the owner of the shop after paying.

During the conversation, Jason announced that he wants a baby brother.

I responded by telling him, "Mommy's too old!"

His reply? "Well, God sent a baby to Sarah!" It was, of course, a reference to the Bible story of Sarah and Abraham (Genesis 21:1-7).

Gotta love a kid who pays attention during Sunday School!

Advent 2 Sermon

2011-12-04T08:40:00.001-05:00

⁸But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. ⁹The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.¹⁰But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed.¹¹Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness,¹²waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire?¹³But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.¹⁴Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish;¹⁵and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.

2 Peter 3:8-15

* * *

Visits with Aunt Chickie were always fun. She was my grandfather’s sister and our visits always found her home filled with large numbers of my extended family. I have only one aunt and one uncle on my father’s side, giving me a total of four first cousins. Add in my siblings and we’d make a group of eight children. We are all pretty close in age and were playmates during our childhood. We always had fun together, but when we gathered with our extended family our group of playmates—and level of fun—increased dramatically!

Aunt Chickie had a huge yard which, at the family gatherings, always held a volleyball net, wiffle ball diamond, horseshoe pit, and a variety of other game choices. She also had a lake with a dock that was great for jumping in to swim, and a hill that made for fun sledding in the winter. Thanks to their other siblings (I don’t even know how many Papa had), I have dozens of second and third cousins; these family gatherings often included more than forty children. Although we were surrounded by adults, we children enjoyed a lot of freedom at Aunt Chickie’s house.

We were allowed to run and play with few restrictions placed upon us. We didn’t know one another well, but we frolicked together for hours on end, dividing ourselves into teams with little difficulty. We teased and laughed, almost always with good-natured intent. And whether we succeeded or failed, we cheered for one another as we tried new activities. Even today, more than three decades later, I vividly recall my cousins’ applause the first time I got the courage to jump off the dock for a swim in the lake! Obviously, I have fond and joyful memories of time spent at Aunt Chickie’s home.

My parents, I am certain, do not have such fond and joyful memories of our drives to get there!

You see, Aunt Chickie lived “out in the country,” over an hour away from our urban Troy, New York home. You can imagine how frequently my sister, brother and I would ask, “How much longer?” as we traveled!

Today, as we mark the Second Sunday in Advent, it strikes me that “How much longer?” is a question that might season our Christian journeys as well. Three weeks from today, we will commemorate the Incarnation of our Lord—the birth of Jesus. The gift of God with us is worthy of our joyful celebrations! Advent is, as you know, a time of preparing for them. But that is not all that the season of Advent is about. You may remember last week’s sermon, when I reminded you of the penitential aspect of this season, as it is also a time to prepare ourselves for our Savior’s return.

“How much longer?” we may ask as we ponder anew the time that has passed since Jesus promised that he would come back for his followers. “How much longer?” we ask with despair, as we acknowledge the fact that it was human sin that brought God into the world—and that Jesus’ saving act did nothing to reduce the level of sin that exists in humanity. “How much longer?” we ask with hope for the event to come quickly, as we realize that Jesus’ eventual return will bring an eternal end to all human pain and sin.

This is what the author of Second Peter is addressing in this morning’s lesson from that epistle. He writes, of course, several years after Jesus’ resurrection, to a community of Christians who are eagerly awaiting the Savior’s return, but who are beginning to become impatient. He tells them, “Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.”

Here we are, getting closer and closer to two thousand years after our Lord’s crucifixion and resurrection—the events that are central to our faith—and we are still waiting!

It could be said that we have even more reason for impatience than the original recipients of this letter. We have, after all, been waiting even longe than they had. How much longer will we wait?

No one has the answer to that question. And that’s part of the point that the author of this epistle is making as he goes on to remind the recipients of Jesus’ own words, “The day of the Lord will come like a thief.”

More important to this author, though—and, really, to us—is this: “The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.”

This is Good News for Advent! It is also the answer to the question, “How much longer?” And it is a call to mission and ministry!The Lord is waiting for all to come to repentance. Repentance is not confessing one’s sin and asking—or hoping—for forgiveness. Repentance is not a feeling of guilt or remorse. Nor, obviously, is repentance sinless perfection. It may include confession and remorse, but repentance not defined by those things. Repentance is the change in attitude and behavior that comes from living in the light and love of our Lord and his grace.

God is not waiting for the world to become perfect. That, Jesus tells us, is something that will happen only when he has returned, perfected the world and fulfilled all of God’s eternal promises. God, the author of this epistle is saying, wishes for all that he created to know the story of salvation—the story of Jesus—because it is only after people come to know the story of God’s love for humanity that repentance comes to us.

The repentant Christian will live in such a way that the world can see our faith. We can do it in quiet ways, as well as obvious ones. Perhaps we do more than simply toss coins (or slide dollar bills) into the Salvation Army’s bucket as we walk past the bell ringer on our way into the mall, we stop, make eye contact, and greet them as well. Or maybe, rather than shooting impatient daggers at her with our eyes, we smile and allow the harried mother into the checkout line ahead of us. Christmas caroling; helping a neighbor shop, decorate, or wrap gifts; and providing meals (or treats) for those who may be unable to manage it for themselves are other faithful tasks.

None of these will, of course, hasten the return of our Lord. Our faithfulness in reaching out to those who do not share our faith—or who struggle with the faith that is within them—may help them to experience the love of our Savior and bring to them the same change that we have experienced—the kind of change that can be labeled repentance and can come only from God. How much longer? No one knows. The author of Second Peter, though, tells us that our waiting is filled with hope, because it is a sign of God’s grace and goodwill—and God’s patience—with humanity. And this is Good News! Amen.

Twelve Years Ago

2011-11-28T05:54:00.000-05:00

It was just a bit past the halfway mark of my very first semester in seminary. My friend Toni traveled from Florida to Pennsylvania to spend Thanksgiving with me. The week we spent together was filled with later-than-usual nights since my class schedule prevented us from having much other time together. I took her to the airport on Saturday night and collapsed in exhaustion on Sunday afternoon.

I was snuggled under blankets sound asleep on the sofa when a knock sounded on my door. I'd gotten into the habit of having Sunday dinner with a seminary friend and, knowing that it was her at the door, I dug my way out of the covers, shouting, "I'm coming!"

I never even stopped to peek in the mirror, or to look through the peephole.

I was more than a little bit surprised when Don was standing on the other side of the door. By then, we'd been chatting almost daily during my work-study hours in the library and had become friends, but we'd never spent significant time together. No matter. I knew him well enough to invite him into my apartment.

We spent four hours talking! And then, as I realized it was nearing 6pm, I asked if he was hungry. It was my intention to offer him a simple supper of Thanksgiving leftovers. Instead, he invited me to go out to dinner with him. I agreed and we walked from the seminary down to the town square and had sandwiches for dinner at The Plaza, where we spent another two hours chatting. We spent one more hour talking outside my apartment, before the cold temperatures forced me indoors.

All told, our first date was seven hours long, and filled with conversation.

Three and a half months later, he asked me to marry him. I've never regretted saying, "Yes."

If I remember to post on December 12, I'll tell you about our first kiss!

Thoughts about Recent Events at Penn State

2011-11-16T09:49:00.001-05:00

I enjoy college football but I am not a Penn State fan. I have rooted for the University of Florida Gators for more years than I care to admit. Just a few months ago, I was proud to be the only wearer of orange and blue in a sea of blue and white as the Gators went head-to-head with the Nittany Lions in a post-season bowl game. Living in Pennsylvania has made for some fun rivalries!

Recent events at Penn State, though, have brought pain to many, many alumni and fans. My next-door neighbor, who graduated from PSU more than five decades ago, is hurting. As a retired high school math teacher, and current Boy Scout troop leader, though, he is also horrified at how things unfolded. The same is true for everyone with whom I have had contact.

Joe Paterno (JoePa, as he is affectionately known around here) screwed up. There are no two ways about it. Paterno was not mandated by law to report the suspected abuse to the Department of Public Welfare because, under the terms of his employment at Penn State, he did not come into contact with children "in the course of the employment, occupation or practice of [his] profession." (cited below) In other words, since his job was to coach football players, most of whom are legally adults, Paterno was required to report the suspected abuse to his supervisors, not to the legal authorities. This is, to my (admittedly limited) understanding, why he was not indicted by the grand jury.

Frankly, though, when Sandusky continued to appear on Penn State campus, using the facilities and continuing to have opportunities to spend time with children, JoePa should have taken the ball into his own hands and made the report. His failure to do so is worthy of condemnation. Had he demonstrated care for those children--the same level of care, commitment and love he reportedly shows for "his" football players--JoePa would continue to be a hero today.

For all that JoePa screwed up, he is not the alleged criminal. I think he should considered one, though.

I am a mother. I am a pastor. I want my son, and every other child, protected much more securely than the current statutes in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania provide. Regardless of whether or not an individual works directly with children, if abuse is suspected, I would like mandatory reporting to be standard. In my mind, it's simple. Anyone who has any reason to suspect child abuse would be required to report it to the Department of Public Welfare, whether or not they work directly with the children.

It has taken more than a week since the public revelation of the events at Penn State. The media is now focusing on Sandusky, whose recent interview with Bob Costas did nothing positive for him. He has admitted to behavior which, as the mother of a young boy, scares the hell out of me. Based solely on what he admits in that interview, I do not want my son around someone like him. If he is guilty of the crimes that caused the grand jury to indict him, I'd like to see him spend the rest of his life imprisoned.

I would also like to know that those who fail to protect children would not be excused for that failure. I know that JoePa could not be indicted for breaking laws that did not exist when he was employed by Penn State, but I'd feel a bit safer about entrusting my son to the care of others if I knew that all of the adults who surrounded him were held accountable for reporting suspected abuse.

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For the record, the law states:
(a) General rule. Under 23 Pa.C.S. § 6311 (relating to persons required to report suspected child abuse), licensees who, in the course of the employment, occupation or practice of their profession, come into contact with children shall report or cause a report to be made to the Department of Public Welfare when they have reasonable cause to suspect on the basis of their professional or other training or experience, that a child coming before them in their professional or official capacity is a victim of child abuse.

(b) Staff members of public or private agencies, institutions and facilities. Licensees who are staff members of a medical or other public or private institution, school, facility or agency, and who, in the course of their employment, occupation or practice of their profession, come into contact with children shall immediately notify the person in charge of the institution, school facility or agency or the designated agent of the person in charge when they have reasonable cause to suspect on the basis of their professional or other training or experience, that a child coming before them in their professional or official capacity is a victim of child abuse. Upon notification by the licensee, the person in charge or the designated agent shall assume the responsibility and have the legal obligation to report or cause a report to be made in accordance with subsections (a), (c) and (d). (Source)

A Sermon on 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

2011-11-15T08:33:00.001-05:00

Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A few months ago, Harold Camping, president of California’s Family Radio, predicted that God’s “Judgment Day” would happen on May 21, 2011. You may recall the hype surrounding his prediction. He said that three million people would be saved, and the rest of the world would perish.

Of course, that did not happen.

And then Mr. Camping revised his prediction a bit. He claimed that a “spiritual salvation” had happened on that date in May and recalculated the end of the world for October 21, 2011. Everything I’ve read about these predictions was filled with darkness and doom. A select few people would be “raptured” (that is, taken up to some form of “heaven” with no warning).

The rest of us? Well, we’re left with very little hope. But here we are, nearly halfway through November, still journeying through our day-to-day lives, most of us probably giving little to no thought about Mr. Camping’s predictions. It is not, after all, the first time we have experienced something like this.

Did you know that there is actually a website called “judgementday2011.com” that offers a list of “The Top 10 Reasons You Won’t Be Saved in the Rapture”? I stumbled across it this week, as St. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians sent me researching end-of-world theories. Among those Top Ten reasons are these, all of which are given as the voice of God speaking:

“At some point you’ve wanted what someone else has had. Fail.”

“Stealing candy from the store, even if you were a child – still counts as stealing!”

“Ever lie to your parents? That wouldn’t be considered ‘honor’ in my opinion.”

All of these reasons—and most of the others on the list—are clear violations of The Ten Commandments. Wanting what someone else has is, obviously, the sin of coveting. Both the Ninth and Tenth Commandments address that.

Stealing? Number Seven.

Lying to parents? Number Four.

Included on the website’s list, as well, are other basic commandment violations such as taking the Lord’s name in vain (Number Two), failing to keep the Sabbath day holy (Number Three), and murder (Number Five).

All of the reasons listed are written in a tone that doesn’t sound very grace-filled and Godlike to my Lutheran Christian ears and I hope this list was posted in humor. At the same time, I am forced to acknowledge that the list is a pretty accurate reflection of twenty-first century American Christian culture. Our society teaches us—and it is too-often affirmed by so-called theologians—that we have some measure of control over eternity. We are taught that we can choose not to sin, thereby ensuring our status as “saved” for eternity.

At the same time, many faithful Christian voices are speaking up in defense of Jesus and in reminder of what St. Paul addresses in this morning’s lesson from the first letter to the Thessalonians—words which hearken directly back to the Lord and Savior himself. “For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.”

Jesus will return when God determines and humanity will not be given any warning beyond what we already know—and that, as we’ve all heard—is that the world will be surprised! No one—not Mr. Harold Camping, or any mainstream Christian pastor—knows the day and time.

And no human being—regardless of how righteously we may try and live—will determine our own eternal destination. But that doesn’t stop some people from hoping to control it.Would you like to know the number one reason why people won’t be saved in the rapture, according to the website I quoted earlier? “You were never baptized. Instant strike.”

We’re Lutheran. We understand that in the sacrament of baptism we are claimed by God forever. When water and the Word are combined, we are brought into the family of God and given eternal promises of love and grace. Our faith teaches us that nothing we can do—no matter how dark and sinful our choice—can take us away from God’s light and love.

Oh, I suspect that most (and perhaps all) of us feel a bit anxious from time-to-time, when we gather enough courage to look deeply into ourselves and acknowledge our sin. But the cross on our forehead, which points to the cross borne by our Savior as he committed the act that proves God’s endless love for humanity, is our source of hope in God’s promised grace.

At the same time, given the fact that we do not know when our Lord will return and complete the kingdom, it is inaccurate and totally unfaithful for us to assume that those who are not baptized will be given an “instant strike” are destined for eternal condemnation. The baptized live under the promise of salvation. But those who have not received that gift do live without hope—and to imply that our Lord is so cold as to refuse eternity to people simply because they have not been baptized is not faithful.

It is true that, immediately after the reminder that “the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night,” comes these words, “When they say, ‘There is peace and security,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them...,” but that warning does not refer to the wrath of God coming to destroy anyone. It’s a warning against over-confidence. Peace and security are what will be destroyed, not humanity—and especially not Christians!

Even the baptized, then, would be wise to remember that while we live under an eternal promise, God is the one who holds the power in the sacrament. We did not choose baptism—nor did our families choose it for us—God chose us for baptism! We are powerless in the face of God’s choice, having no option other than to submit. Our faith promises us that we can trust God’s grace and love. At the same time, St. Paul reminds us that over-confidence is dangerous and will be destroyed when we come face-to-face with our judge.

Please note, though, that the warning is immediately followed by a promise, “You, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; for you are all children of light and children of the day…. God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep, we may live with him.”

“Whether we are awake or asleep, we may live with him.” That’s a huge promise! First, it acknowledges that we may not be as fully prepared for our Lord’s return as we might like to think. It also points to our Lord as the sole source of salvation. And, more than anything, it promises that God’s grace is bigger and deeper than we will ever comprehend! Awake or asleep, when the time comes for Jesus’ return, we may live with him!

Lutheran theology understands baptism as the moment at which we are made children of light. We who have received this gift live under God’s promise. Jesus’ birth in the stable marks the beginning of God’s human journey. Throughout that journey, we have multiple examples of love and grace, the most significant of which occurred when he allowed himself to be beaten and nailed to the cross and placed in the grave. His resurrection, of course, is our source of eternal hope. It’s Good News. Amen.

A Nice Note

2011-11-14T05:01:00.000-05:00

Our church newsletter is sent to the synod office, where it is read by either the bishop or one of his staff. This article, was read by one of his assistants.

Assistant replied to me via e-mail:

Thank you very much for your ponderings in the Nov-Dec newsletter. I appreciate the topic and your honesty in addressing it. It reminded me of one of my former pastors who often said that he found that simple table prayer, "Come, Lord Jesus" to be very frightening and encouraged people to think about what they were praying for and whether or not it's what they really wanted! Though he really was more hopeful than frightened -- he liked to surprise people with his words and keep them thinking. Likewise, your final paragraph was very hopeful, too.

It was also very nice to read something that goes beyond the usual "it's Thanksgiving again...or Advent again..." kind of message. Thank you for using the newsletter to share the Gospel!

I'm sure I'm not the only pastor who wonders if anyone (let alone colleagues) bothers to read the newsletter. Our average worship attendance numbers far fewer than the population of the households which receive the mailing. It often feels like a waste of time, energy, money, and trees. I suspect that more than a few people on our mailing list toss the newsletter into the trash, without even opening it.

Our congregation receives newsletters from several others. My own practice is to skim the pastor's article, check the calendar for events that might need to be publicized here as well, and toss them into the recycling bin. We post a few of them, specifically the ones from local congregations, along with the one that comes from a pastor who spent his childhood and youth as a member here. Still, no one here reads them carefully.

Despite these facts, it has always been my practice to write articles which included proclamation of the Gospel and it felt good to have that effort affirmed.

The Pitter-Patter of Little Feet

2011-11-13T05:47:00.000-05:00

Without fail, I am the first one awake in my home. I come downstairs to partake of my caffeine source (Coke Zero) and check e-mail and weather reports while watching the clock for 6:15, the time that we awaken Jason for school. It is my habit to crawl into his bed and snuggle him, kissing him awake. He's a happy morning person, much like his mother. I love his early-morning sweetness.

Saturdays are the only "sleep-in" day that exists in our house. One day a week, then, I come downstairs and follow my usual routine with one exception. I don't watch the clock. Instead, I listen for the thump of small feet hitting the floor as Jason climbs out of bed, followed by the pitter-patter as he heads for his morning potty stop.

This morning, he stopped midway to the bathroom (just outside our bedroom door) and announced that he had his lovey with him because he wanted to snuggle "in your bed, Mommy." Halfway up the stairs to meet him, I replied, "Okay, Sweetheart. We can do that!"

It may be trite to admit it, but the sound of my son's feet in the morning brings me deep joy. The same is true for his desire to snuggle us. There will come a day when those feet are less eager about morning wake-ups, I am sure. He will also, I know, mature beyond a desire to cuddle in his parents' bed. I am going to miss these days!

Perhaps it's a benefit to being an older mom. Or maybe it's just my personality. I don't know. I do know that I am in no hurry for my little boy to grow up. I am enjoying his childhood!

Six and a half years after his birth, my son remains a wonder and a miracle to me. I'm not sure that will ever change; I hope it does not.

More on The Gideons

2011-11-12T05:52:00.000-05:00

My first year here, when the Gideons appeared and asked for an opportunity to speak to our congregation, I consulted with the council and agreed to allow them to do so. They did a presentation during our adult Sunday School hour and then spoke for a few minutes before worship began. During the SS hour, one of the group members asked a question and we learned that women are not permitted to be part of the organization. "But we do have an auxiliary for them," she was told.

Their SS presentation included a slide show. Those two men had traveled to Mexico and the Philippines. They expressed sadness at the level of poverty they saw during their travels. The images on the slides bore witness to the miserable living conditions of the neighborhoods they visited. Children appeared malnourished and were both filthy and barefoot. Women were bent over, weighed down, it appeared, by the burden of poverty. There were few men in their pictures; the ones they did manage to capture in photographs were equally weighed down.

These are parts of the world where indoor plumbing is non-existent at the income level of the neighborhoods where the Gideons were handing out Bibles. The men described the area vividly, and their pictures affirmed the descriptions. Raw sewage runs down the side of the road. Huge families were sharing small, decrepit shacks and calling them "home." Disease is rampant because, of course, access to clean and safe water is absent.

The men who presented this information to us were proud of their willingness to "share the Word of God" with these people. One of them commented, "My arm was sore by the end of the day. It's hard work to keep reaching down into that box to get another Bible. You don't realize how physical it is until you spend an entire day doing it."

I was both pleased and proud when, the week after the Gideons were there, one of the adult SS participants commented, "Pastor, it seems to me that these men would be doing a lot more good if they were helping the people, instead of just handing out Bibles? Couldn't they be working to fix up those shacks or getting them clean water?"

Her questions prompted an hour-long discussion about mission, ministry, and the Great Commission. It was noted that, while the men's arms might have been sore from handing out Bibles, they might have been even more sore--and more helpful--if they'd put in the hard, physical labor necessary to provide sturdy and safe shelters or to dig wells for clean water. The entire gathered group was dismayed at the apparent importance of Bibles over meeting very real physical needs. (Note: While I was present and did not hesitate to ask probing questions, I did not begin or lead this lengthy conversation. It was begun by faithful Christians who struggle with day-to-day life and ministry.)

My disclaimer: I have limited experience with the Gideons. They appeared at my college campus once a year and handed out their version of the New Testament with Psalms, and they show up at my church on an annual basis, asking for time to speak with the congregation. They may very well have ministries far beyond the handing out of Bibles. If so, I know nothing about them--and researching their website does not provide information about them. I'm open to learning, if anyone knows more than I do!

Sexism! Sigh.

2011-11-10T15:29:00.001-05:00

See the picture? Notice the shirt? It's what I wear to work on a daily basis, including today.

This morning, I was standing in the hallway outside my office, chatting with two men who were waiting for a few others in order to hold a meeting in my congregation's building. Neither of the men is a pastor so, of course, neither was wearing a clergy collar.

Not long into our conversation, two more men came into the building, spotted us in the hall and came to greet us. They turned away from me--toward the men--and asked, "Pastor Lastname?" as they reached out to shake hands.

I responded by saying, "That would be me, unless you're asking for the other Pastor Lastname," and quickly learned that they were Gideons.

Apparently clueless about the fact that they'd just insulted me by failing to acknowledge my identity as pastoral leader, they plunged right into their request to come and speak to my congregation.Sorry, but no. Your organization may very well be a worthwhile and important ministry but as long as it excludes women, I will not invite you here. My congregational leadership supports that stance. I'm proud of them for doing so.

The congregation council also feels that, while it is certainly a good thing to place Bibles in the hands of those who otherwise might not receive them, it is more important to feed the hungry, clothe the poor and shelter the homeless. One of them noted that, in working toward meeting these most basic of needs, we are embodying the Word of God in ways that are much more powerful than simply handing out Bibles. I can't fault that theology.

After being told, "No, thank you," the men tried to convince me to change my mind. In the end, I walked them to the door and encouraged them on their way. They'll be back, though. Of that, I have no doubt.

Crazy Times

2011-11-09T11:08:00.001-05:00

It is not my intent to neglect this space, but life keeps intervening.

Work has been busy, with fall kicking things into high gear. Between routine meetings, two different Bible Studies, and funerals, I feel good if I manage to keep track of the days of the week. I'm thankful to have a secretary who knows my schedule and reminds me of upcoming events. She helps me stay ahead of the game.

We've also been doctoring Jason again....trying to figure out exactly what to do about the MRI-revealed significant (and chronic) congestion that has affected his sinuses and, as it seems to be causing the fluid in his ears, also his hearing. Our local ENT recommended another set of ear tubes and an antihistamine.

Neurologist gave us a strong and definite "NO" on the antihistamine, because, "it can lower his seizure threshold." So we sought an allergist's opinion about the congestion. Despite the fact that all allergy tests were negative (and they tested for 45 (?) potential allergens), he prescribed two different nasal sprays to help with the symptom. He also told us that it's possible for tonsils and adenoids to grow back, and after sticking a camera tube up my son's nose and into his throat, said that there were 'little flaps' where the adenoids would have been.

OH, and we had to take everything soft (except bedding) out of Jason's bedroom, to try and prevent indoor allergens from getting in there. We stripped the room of curtains, took down his baptismal quilt (which has hung in his room since he received it), removed all stuffed animals, and put the rocking chair in the living room. We also, again per the allergist's advice, purchased an air purifier. His mattress and pillows are now encased in bags designed to keep out allergens.

Three weeks later, at the follow-up appointment, he says that there is "some improvement" but that it will take months to see a significant change. He also said that there is 60% regrowth of the adenoids (which is very different from what he told us at our earlier appointment, when he mentioned the flaps) and that is adding to his loud breathing. At this point, I'm feeling like the allergist is throwing medication at symptoms without real cause.

Neurologist recommended a pulmonologist but, after speaking with that department of UPMC Children's Hospital, another ENT seems to be what we need. Since the fluid in Jason's ears has caused significant hearing issues (up to 40% loss at some pitches in one ear, 35% in the other), it's looking like we're going to need another set of tubes. And I refuse to return to the local doctor who (1) wanted to put another set of tubes in without determining the cause of the fluid--despite my repeated questions about it and (2) was irresponsible and/or uneducated enough to not know that antihistamines are contra-indicated in a seizure patient--again, despite my repeated questioning of the advice.

I'm hoping and praying that an ENT who specializes in pediatric patients will be more willing to listen to my concerns. It is very possible that the nasal sprays are needed to help with the congestion. It's also possible that ear tubes will add to that help. Maybe Jason's just a kid who will need several sets of ear tubes and/or other medical intervention before his body matures enough for the chronic congestion to clear. Or maybe there's some cause that we haven't found yet.

I don't know. I do know, though, that it's worrisome!

As I said on Facebook the other day, "This parenting gig isn't for wimps!"

Pastor's Ponderings: The Lord is Coming! The Lord is Coming!

2011-10-20T11:19:00.003-04:00

"But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake-- for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."

Mark 13:32-37

This is how Jesus speaks about his eventual return. Despite his clarity in announcing that no one knows when it would happen, though, Christians in the early church had some level of hope—perhaps even expectation—that it would occur during their lifetime. In contrast, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Christian today who holds that hope.

I suspect that more than a few of us struggle even to have hope that the Savior will ever return. It’s been more than two thousand years since the Incarnate Lord entered the world. It’s been nearly that long since he spoke the words cited above, just before his death and resurrection. That’s a long time to wait! It’s also a long time to stay awake and be prepared.

I don’t know about you, but I sure don’t feel ready for Jesus to return. Oh, on one hand, it would be nice to escape from the trials and challenges of the world. I would certainly not complain if my recovery from surgery was hastened and pain departed. Nor would I mind seeing my son and other loved ones fully healthy. An end to bill-paying, housework, and (as winter approaches) snow-shoveling would obviously be welcome.

Still, I’m not sure that I’m ready for the Lord to return, especially when I reflect on our confession that Jesus “will come again to judge the living and the dead.” Perhaps some of you can sympathize with me when I confess that I’m not always as faithful as I should be. I can be short-tempered, especially when I am tired or hungry. I’m sometimes both reluctant and less-than-generous in sharing my gifts with others. In a sense, I'm like those servants who fall asleep waiting for their master's return.

When I reflect on the depth of sin that abides in me, I’m pretty certain that I don’t want to stand before the One who will judge me for eternity just yet!

Every year, as the season of Advent approaches, I find myself reflecting on how I’d feel if Jesus’ return were to happen. Along with the aforementioned mixture of relief from struggles and anxiety over the depth of sin that abides in me, I have to admit that the thought brings me joyful excitement.

Jesus’ return will mean that the reign of God, which was inaugurated with the Incarnation, has been fulfilled. With that, of course, comes the fulfillment of God’s promise to humanity. We will stand face-to-face with the One who carried our sin to the cross and be able to acknowledge our gratitude for the pain he bore on our behalf. In the light of his love, the grace that was embodied in Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection will be abundantly visible; God’s judgment need not bring fear, anxiety or worry! The hopeful faith that has sustained us through the difficulties of human life will be replaced with joyful knowledge of our Lord’s love.

This is Good News!

Yours in Christ,
Pastor

Called!

2011-10-06T10:46:00.001-04:00

No, I'm not announcing a new call. We're updating the paperwork required for a possible move, but there is no such event in our immediate future.

For quite some time, though, I've been struggling. I've been trying to discern whether or not I am supposed to continue serving in the ministry of Word and Sacrament. The congregation and location I serve is hard. The congregation has our share of faithful and loving folks, to be sure. We also have a few whose attitudes and behaviors are, at best, "difficult." I even have one man who is downright bullying and abusive. Sadly, the strength of his voice often overrides the strength of my own.

Added to that is the challenge of the climate. Sure, I was born in upstate New York, but central Florida is my home. This is the time of year when the leaves change color and temperatures begin to drop. Gray days outnumber sunny ones. Snow will soon begin to fall. Winter weather will last for about five months. I have not acclimated to it. Frankly, I'm not sure I want to.

Having returned from a two-week vacation, followed by a period of working part-time (and mostly at home) as I recover from surgery, though, I have spent time with God. During that time, I have prayed. And I have listened. In the end, I have found my call to ministry affirmed. I resumed full-time work this week and, while I have already had one encounter with The Bully, I have decided that I am going to work hard not to give him--or others like him--the power of making me question my call to serve God.

At the end of this month, I have invited my congregation to gather and discuss our future. The questions before us will be the same ones that were placed before our entire denomination at this summer's national assembly. The questions are:

What is God calling this [congregation] to be and to do in the future?
What changes are in order to accomplish these tasks more faithfully?

If this congregation is going to survive (and I believe it can), we need people willing to help bear the burden of ministry. If this congregation is going to thrive (and, again, I believe it can), we need to follow our Savior's call and go out into the world, sharing the Good News as we live and love those around us.

We are a congregation of God's people. We have gifts. Our community has needs. I'm inviting people to come together and brainstorm how we can use our gifts to meet those needs. I have an idea, and am willing to help implement it, but I am no longer willing to be the sole source of leadership here. I am not called to be the savior of this congregation. I am called by God to proclaim the Good News and administer the Sacraments, wherever I serve.

Been Busy!

2011-09-26T10:58:00.000-04:00

I thoroughly enjoyed my eight-day sojourn on the high seas. Departure out of New York City on September 11, the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks, was moving. Carnival Cruise Lines had a bagpiper circling the ship playing music while we stopped in front of the Freedom Tower, paying our respects. I snapped some great pictures of the both the Freedom Tower alight with red, white and blue, and the towers of light.

The cruise itself was wonderfully relaxing! I had a two-hour nap daily, was well-fed, and had a great time with my roommate (my ex-sister-in-law, who may as well be a "real" sister to me).

I didn't see a lot of Bermuda, thanks to two things: (1) my aching feet and (2) Tropical Storm Maria. We made it to Horseshoe Bay and spent our first day in Bermuda on the beach. Day two was when the storm hit and, while it wasn't terrible, it was enough to keep Jean and I close to the ship. We walked to nearby shops and picked up souvenirs, but returned to the ship by lunch and then stayed put.....partly because we were both craving the nap we'd missed when we were on the beach the previous day.

Day three in Bermuda was a quiet one shipboard, where I chose to stay. Oh, I desperately wanted to do some serious sight-seeing, but knew that my feet weren't up for it. Rather than push myself and regret it, I enjoyed a day of sunshine beside the ship's pool (along with a couple of raspberry daiquiris--my new-favorite adult beverage).

We had two sea days on the way home, both of which were less smooth than the trip out. Sunday, our last day aboard, found us in twelve to fifteen foot swells, and made for quite a rocky ride. (Keeping with the tradition of providing for all needs, the ship offered support by providing barf bags beside every elevator.) I suffered no ill effects from seasickness, but judging by the lack of crowds in the buffet and dining room, I'd say that many people did. Even our dinner waiter who, obviously, lives on the ship, confessed to having some serious discomfort when the seas were so rough.

I kept in touch with my boys by checking into Facebook daily. Also exchanged a couple of e-mails with Jason's teacher and, despite being on a cruise, knew about Jason's perfect spelling test before his father did! I'm proud of my little guy.

Came home on a Tuesday and had a plantar fasciotomy on Friday...am now recovering. Vicodin has been my friend these past couple of days. Today, I'm on Tylenol (until, that is, time for my surgical follow-up appointment) and feeling like my brain is my own again.

Yeah, that weird kid is mine!

2011-09-07T08:53:00.000-04:00

On Friday, I offered Jason "snackies" for supper. This means that he gets to choose from a variety of (mostly) healthy snack-type foods and create a meal.

He asked for pepperoni, string cheese, and fish crackers.

"Okay, Pie," I told him, "but you need a fruit or vegetable, too. What would you like?"

"What do you have?" he asked.

Listing favorites of his, I answered, "I have oranges, pineapple, green pepper, celery and carrots."

"Do we have any onions?"

"Yes, Sweetie. Why?"

"I want onions!" was his enthusiastic reply.

Now, I know he likes raw onions in salad and on hamburgers or hot dogs. He'll even munch on them alone when they fall onto his plate. But I have to confess that it has never--not even once--occurred to me to offer him raw, sliced onions as a side dish with snack food.

Since he asked, though, that's exactly what I served him.

And the onions were the first thing he ate, tainting his breath for all of the evening kisses.

FINALLY--Results!

2011-09-06T18:50:00.000-04:00

Saw the doctor today. He said that the tumor is "good sized, similar to early pregnancy," adding that it's about 2.5 cm by 3.1 cm, but hasn't grown since last year. He advised me to go ahead with the foot surgery (for plantar fasciitis) and to make an appointment with my gynecologist to discuss options.

He also told me that, since I'm asymptomatic, not menopausal (or even peri-menopausal) yet and surgery likely means a partial hysterectomy, I might prefer to wait until I enter peri-menopause before having surgery. He indicated that waiting may make menopause easier.

I'm feeling much less anxious about it.

And even more excited about the upcoming cruise without this hanging over me!

Test Results.....

2011-09-03T09:18:00.000-04:00

Still waiting!

Called the doctor's office yesterday, as instructed on Tuesday (the first time I called). They told me that they had no information yet and guessed that "they hadn't been typed up yet."

Don said that they must not be too concerned about things if they're so slow to send results to the doctor, but I'm not as confident and am still worried.

Continued prayers appreciated.

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: The Season You're In

2011-09-02T05:50:00.006-04:00

Over at RevGals, kathrynzj posts: Headquarters for me is the northeast of the United States. Here school is getting back in session, the tease of autumn is in the air (or the hope for the tease of autumn is in the air) and church life is gearing up to full throttle.

One thing I've learned with blogging and social media is that the where I live is not necessarily where you live. And so I want to know what September means to you, in your place of the world and time in your life.

This week's Friday Five is:

What are 5 things that the beginning of September mean to you?

1: Don and I were married on September 2, so we start the month with that celebration. Our tradition is to go to Olive Garden for lunch or dinner. Since that's nearly two hours away, and he doesn't accompany us, we also include the beginning of our Christmas shopping for Jason.

2: Rally Day, which marks the beginning of our Sunday School year, and a return to our 'regular' worship schedule.

3: This is when our leaves begin to change, overnight temperatures really start to drop, and fall arrives.

4: Apples! This is the month when our local farmer's market gets freshly picked apples and I love it!

5: Vacation. Prior to Jason starting school, we always scheduled a family vacation in September or October. This year, Don's staying home with our first-grader, but the boys are sending me on a trip without them. I'm keeping a close eye on Hurricane/Tropical Storm Katia and hoping she doesn't disrupt the planned cruise (with my sister-in-law) to Bermuda.

Bonus: What's one thing you could do without? I love fall, but do not really like what follows: Winter, with its inevitable snow!

Over-thinking

2011-08-31T05:59:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was my pelvic ultrasound. I waited four hours and called my doctor's office to ask when they will have results, only to be told that they will not have any results until Friday. In the meantime, I keep thinking.

When we were getting ready to leave, the technician touched my arm reassuringly and told me, "You'll know soon."

I know that medical technicians aren't official readers of the tests they administer and aren't supposed to share test results with us. I also know that many of them are experienced enough to have some level of familiarity with what they see.

She touched me reassuringly.

This is what's rolling around in my head: What does her touch mean? Was that some subtle way of communicating bad news? Did the thing grow?

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I intend to call the doctor's office early Friday morning and nag them for results.

Jason's New Favorite Supper

2011-08-27T08:54:00.000-04:00

We call it Shrimp Pasta. It's quick, easy, and tasty!

2 Tbsp. Butter
2 Tbsp. Olive Oil
1/2 cup diced green pepper
1/2 cup diced onion
2-3 garlic cloves, chopped finely
2 tsp. Italian seasoning
1 pint grape tomatoes
1 pound shrimp, cleaned, deveined and tails removed
1 tsp. salt (more or less, to taste)
1/3 tsp. pepper (more or less, to taste)
12 oz. pasta (we like twists)

Boil salted water for pasta and cook according to directions. Meanwhile, melt butter with olive oil in large non-stick skillet. Add green pepper and onion, cooking until translucent and soft. Add Italian seasoning, salt, pepper, garlic and tomatoes, continue cooking until tomatoes are heated through and begining to split open. Add shrimp and cook for another 5 minutes or so.

Drain pasta, and pour the entire contents of the skillet over it.

*************
I made this for the first time a few weeks ago, just to use some vegies that were sitting in our fridge waiting to be eaten. It's delicious! And, as the post title says, it has become Jason's favorite. He requested it for tonight's supper.

Anxiety Abounds

2011-08-26T16:27:00.001-04:00

While I was at my doctor's office for my annual exam today, I learned that the pelvic ultrasound that was performed last year showed that I have a complex cyst on my right ovary. That exam was done just a day or two before we left for a three-week vacation; I'd virtually forgotten about it until the doctor was looking at my chart today. She also told me that they need another follow-up ultrasound to see what's happening with the cyst. "Sometimes they go away on their own," she said, "but sometimes they require surgery. This is not something you want to wait before having another test."

As soon as I arrived home, I called and scheduled the necessary exam.

I also Googled the phrase "complex cyst on ovary." And now I'm worried.

I'm also angry. Both the doctor's office and the hospital told me that I would receive a phone call if there was a concern, but that if I heard nothing then "everything's okay." If, as the doctor indicated, this is something that should have been re-examined six months ago, why wasn't I notified that there had been a problem? To be sure, I bear some responsibility for not calling and asking. I realize that. But if you tell me that "no news is good news," then you damn well ought to let me know when it's not.

Prayers appreciated.

Pastor’s Ponderings: Churchwide Assembly 2011

2011-08-23T14:51:00.000-04:00

Did you know that, in some parts of the world, malaria takes the life of one child every forty-five seconds? I will confess that this statistic was shocking to me! It seems that life in the United States in the twenty-first century has sheltered me from awareness of malaria and its ongoing consequences. I suspect that my lack of awareness is not unique. The combination of insecticides, insect repellants, and homes that prevent mosquitoes from entering serve to keep this disease far from many of us.

Sadly, though we may have been unaware of it, malaria kills 800,000 people in our world each year; many of them are children. Our denomination is participating in the effort to control—and perhaps eliminate—the disease. Mosquito nets, medical care (for both prevention and treatment of the disease), and water treatment are among the goals of the ELCA Malaria Campaign, which was officially launched at this year’s Churchwide Assembly.

“The ELCA Malaria Campaign has committed to raise $15 million to help prevent, treat and educate communities in Africa about malaria and eliminate deaths from this disease—for good.” A ten dollar contribution buys an insecticide-treated mosquito net. Fifty dollars provides medication for twenty-five people.

As we plan for 2012, I hope that our congregation demonstrates care and concern for our sisters and brothers in Africa by adding this ministry to our monthly offerings to be sent to the Campaign.

This year marked the first time that the ELCA assembly was officially greeted by a member of the Islamic community. As he introduced the speaker, our presiding bishop, the Rev. Mark Hanson, noted the gift of “working together to build a more peaceful and just world, both in this country and in places of tension throughout the world.” As our nation marks the tenth anniversary of the horrific events of September 11, 2001, it seems appropriate to note that, despite the actions of extremists, we are able to treat one another with respect and work together as we seek peace and justice in our nation, and in the world. How fitting it is for us to share this ministry!

Other orders of business included the passing of the Social Statement on Genetics. It is the eleventh such statement to be adopted by our denomination.

What is a social statement? “Social statements are social policy documents, adopted by an ELCA Churchwide Assembly, addressing significant social issues. They provide an analysis and interpretation of an issue, set forth basic theological and ethical perspectives related to it, and offer guidance for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, its individual members, and its affiliated agencies and institutions. They are the product of extensive and inclusive deliberation within this church.”

The newest social statement addresses hard issues connected to the use of genetics in the medical field, as well as in other areas. It acknowledges the Lord as creator of all and encourages responsible use of contemporary research and science in our world. It is available online at the denomination’s website. We also have a copy of it at church, if you’re interested in reading it.

There was, of course, much other business before the 1,023 men and women who gathered as voting members of the assembly. Throughout the assembly, though, we were continuously reminded that we gathered first and foremost as faithful Christians. We began and ended each business session with hymns and prayers. We gathered for worship with Holy Communion at midday. We met in small groups for daily Bible Study as well. The business of the church, in other words, was solidly centered in the Word of God.

Perhaps the most significant issue from this assembly that will affect day-to-day congregational life, though, was LiFT, or Living into the Future Together, also available online. Among the implementing resolutions connected to it is this one, “To invite members, congregations, synods, regions, the churchwide organization, colleges and universities, institutions and agencies, networks and global, ecumenical and other partners into deep conversation, prayer and discernment, as, together, this church commits itself to the following actions to implement the reports and recommendations: 1. to make support for the work of congregations one of the highest priorities for this church. To request congregations, in collaboration with synods, to begin, develop, review or redefine their unique mission plans by the end of 2012, so that each congregation strengthens its capabilities and resources for witness and mission.”

In light of the request that I’ve italicized, I plan to offer opportunities for our congregation to gather and discuss our future. We do not have a current mission plan. We do, however, have gifts that can be used to create one! I intend to emphasize the same questions that our national church body used:

1. What is God calling this congregation to be and to do in the future?
2. What changes are in order to accomplish these tasks more faithfully?

Everyone is invited to participate. Our first discussion will take place, fittingly it seems, on Reformation Sunday—October 30 at 5pm……………come and share your vision with us!
Blessings,
Pastor

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: What to Do, What to Do Edition

2011-08-05T06:43:00.001-04:00

Over at RevGals, Kathrynzj writes: I'm wrapping up a two week vacation that has taken me from beach to basement.

WHAT?

It's true, I took a week off of work to clean out the basement. Sadly, to look at a before/after photo would not make it look like my time had been used wisely. Just about everything is still down there, it's just in a different pile. BUT... our church rummage sale this year is going to be very, very blessed.

I'm wondering if anyone else out there takes a week off of work to do a different kind of work:

1) Have you ever 'staycationed' in order to work on a project? If no, would you? When Jason was transitioning from nursery to big-boy room, we moved him from the smallest bedroom in our home (about 8 x 10 feet) to the second-largest. It had horrible, awful, terrible duck wallpaper (similar to this, only much worse, since it was all in shades of brown). Our house was built in 1892 and the walls are plaster so we were advised to prime and paint over the wallpaper, rather than try to remove it. Because we knew this would be time-consuming, we took a week off to do the work.

2) What project did you or would you tackle first? See above for what was conquered first. Our second stay-cation found Don cleaning our attic, and me doing other organizing tasks around the house. Fortunately, though, that week also found us exploring local 'tourism' sites that we would otherwise not have visited.

3) Any other projects? I'd love to remove the wallpaper and paint my kitchen. Oh, who am I kidding? I'd love to totally gut my kitchen and create a new one, but I'd settle for fresh paint! It won't happen, though. As stated earlier, the wallpaper is glued to plaster walls and cannot be removed without risking the plaster which is expensive to repair. And we can't paint over it because, unlike Jason's "new" bedroom, the paper has borders on top and bottom and would look awful with paint on top of it.

4) What are the pitfalls of a staycation for you? I still have to do all of the everyday tasks! When I travel for vacation, I (usually) don't do as much cooking, laundry, and other household chores that I do at home. To be sure, that means that the first few post-vacation days are spent 'catching up' on laundry; still, I always enjoy the time away from daily chores.

5) Never mind this staying at home business, where do you want to go and what do you want to do there? CRUISE TO BERMUDA!!! That's next month's vacation and I want to plant my butt on a beach and read!

Joy Abounds when Family Gathers!

2011-08-02T19:43:00.000-04:00

My parents divorced when I was quite young and, in the process of the divorce, I lost contact with my extended family.

Thanks to Facebook, I've regained contact with my paternal aunt (who lives in upstate NY) and uncle (in FL). My aunt, who is also my godmother, has been chatting with me on a regular basis for over a year. With my husband's encouragement, earlier this summer, I invited her and her husband to visit and they arrived last weekend.

I was both excited and nervous about it but, by the end of the weekend, I found myself filled with deep joy.

Aunt brought old family albums with her. Thanks to her, I now have scanned and saved several pictures of my father, my grandparents (including their wedding picture) and other beloved family members. I was especially touched to see the depth of love that is evident in every picture of my Papa and Nana....from those newlywed pictures, all the way to the pictures taken just before Papa died (at age 62). There were even a few pictures of my mother and father in their happier days.

I also have a heart filled with family stories! My grandparents used to treat the entire family to a Maine vacation every year. I have vague memories of one such trip. Aunt had pictures of it! And stories from it! It was delightful to have my memories affirmed and strengthened as we talked. I've often told Don that I'd like to go to the place where we watched them make salt water taffy when I was a girl. Now I have its name and location.

And I have information about that side's annual family reunion. We are not able to attend this year but are giving serious consideration to making the trip in 2012.

The "No Kids Allowed Movement"

2011-08-02T05:48:00.045-04:00

I've seen this article linked on several blogs. I've also read a thread on my parenting board about it. Virtually every reference I've seen or read is adamantly opposed to business banning children and I'm starting to feel like the only mother in the universe who has no problem with it!

Really, even as a parent whose love for her son is deep and unquestionable, I have no difficulty comprehending the fact that there those who may not share my delight in my child! My son often accompanies my husband and me when we dine out and, while his behavior is usually appropriate, this is not always the case. Even when he's not overly hungry and/or tired, Jason's behavior is sometimes............well, childish. He's not unique in that. And frankly, I can understand why adults who are out for a grown-up dinner may not want to be burdened with my (or anyone else's) child's less-than-stellar moments. Since those moments can be unpredictable, it makes sense to reserve some places where children may not be welcome.

It also seems good, right, and just that the individual(s) who own a given company have the privilege of choosing who they will serve. Their business, their choice. If they end up losing money because of those rules, then that's their responsibility. I suspect that the opposite will be true in some cases. There are adults who greatly anticipate child-free time and who will enjoy spending their money at businesses that will give them that pleasure.

Really, it's not that difficult to find child-friendly restaurants, grocery stores, and airlines. I can--and do--choose to frequent them on a regular basis.

I understand that there are those who disagree with me. I've seen the calls to boycott the businesses who choose to 'ban' children. A boycott makes no sense to me, though. Again: It is their decision to make and they will reap the consequences. It remains to be seen whether those consequences will be profit or loss. Either way, they bear the responsibility for their own choices.

Nineteen Years Ago Today

2011-08-01T15:34:00.000-04:00

On August 1, 1992, I was an excited and nervous bride-to-be. I met Tony in college and quickly fell in love. He was a passionate man, who openly expressed his affection and joy in our relationship. I delighted in both of these gifts.

That same passion also led him to express anger in a violent manner; this is what led me to divorce him five years later. Truth be told, though, I knew about his temper even before marrying him.

I remember one weekend, after we'd been dating a year or so, when we were visiting his mother.She'd said something that triggered his anger; I don't recall what, exactly. I do remember being surprised at his extreme reaction, and thinking that what she'd said wasn't worth the depth of emotion he was expressing.

He was six feet, four inches tall--fourteen inches taller than she--and used his height to try to make her cower. He stood over her and screamed into her face. She responded by remaining calm and trying to reason with him. His just became louder and angrier, finally picking up one of the kitchen chairs and flinging it across the room, putting a chair-leg-sized hole in her kitchen wall, and then walking out of the house.

Since I loved him--and thought he "needed" me after that blow-up, I followed him. He commanded me to get into the car because we were leaving "right damned now." I refused to comply. You see, I'd been in the car with Angry Tony on more than one occasion by then and had no desire to subject myself to the danger of riding with him in that condition. You will not, I am certain, be surprised to learn that my response caused him to direct his anger at me. When I continued to refuse to follow his orders, he punched a tree in anger and injured his hand.

Yeah, I was naive and hopeful enough to marry him despite having witnessed--and been the recipient of--more than few of these types of incidents.

Three years into our marriage, we moved to a different state, far from family. Tony was a student at a Lutheran seminary (not the same one I eventually attended) and the pressure of full-time studies combined with part-time work kept his temper at boiling point. No matter how small the annoyance, the blow-ups were huge! What little anger-control he'd had was gone. Tony would yell and scream, using his size to his advantage as he dominated me. He'd even reached the point where, he'd scream with his face an inch from mine and his fist balled up beside my head.

One night, in a fit of temper, he destroyed some things that had high sentimental value to me in. Hurt and angry myself, I called my best friend. She'd lived next door to us the previous year, so she'd heard more than a few of these episodes. That night, she said to me, "You need to leave him before you let him destroy you." It took great courage for her to say that. It could have backfired and ended our friendship. But it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I began taking steps to protect myself, including telling friends and neighbors about the abuse with which I was living. None were surprised. They'd all heard the explosions. Many had attended seminary classes with Tony and been on the receiving end of his disdain and disrespect, as well.

In the end, I took my friend's advice and began planning my departure. I started by speaking openly about the abuse with which I was living. I shipped most of my income to my parents in another state, where I planned on residing when I left. And I worked with my family to set a date for them to come and help me move.

In the end, I made a well-planned escape and moved into my own apartment exactly five years after I walked down the aisle with such hope........August 1, 1997.

It took time--and therapy--in order to heal, but today, I am joyfully married to a good and faithful man. And together, we parent a beautiful, gifted little boy. Life is good.

And you know what? Even though it was an extremely difficult and painful part of my journey which I have no desire to repeat, I have no regrets about my first marriage.

Tigger, Eeyore and the Gospel

2011-07-31T07:48:00.000-04:00

Matthew 14:13-21

Feeding the Five Thousand

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’ Jesus said to them, ‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’ They replied, ‘We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.’ And he said, ‘Bring them here to me.’ Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

***********

The topic at our last cluster meeting was Effective Evangelism. Pastor N. led the conversation which, I am told, was centered in reaching out with joy as we introduce—or, in many cases reintroduce Jesus—to others. During the course of the conversation that followed, my husband asked a question that seems to have stuck with a number of the people who attended that meeting.

“Are we a Tigger or an Eeyore when it comes to discussing our faith and our church with others?”

All of you, I am certain, are familiar with these beloved characters from A.A Milne’s Winnie the Pooh series of books and/or from the Walt Disney animated movies and television shows based on the same characters. Eeyore is a grey donkey who is, it seems, always depressed. His comments are often filled with gloom and doom. An example, taken directly from the book, “‘Good Morning, Pooh Bear,’ said Eeyore gloomily. 'If it is a good morning,' he added, ‘which I doubt.’” Eeyore is never surprised when bad things happen; it is in his nature to expect them, in fact. He moves slowly and even his tone of voice communicates a sense of hopelessness, which seems embedded deeply within him.

Tigger is just about the perfect polar opposite to Eeyore. Tigger is cheerful and outgoing. He bounces everywhere he goes, apparently never suffering any loss of energy. He has excellent self-confidence, trusting that he can do anything. His energy, optimism and self-confidence often lead him to attempt tasks which are not as easy as he’d anticipated. Even when he is unable to complete what he began, though, Tigger never loses hope!

Not long ago, as I sat chatting with my colleagues at one of our weekly luncheon meetings, I listened to their Eeyore-like comments and complaints, and finally asked them, “Does anyone around here have hope? Do any of us really believe what we teach and preach? Do our members believe what we teach and preach? What’s happening in our faith lives? Where is our joy?”

It seems that the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America—and, based on the fact that two of the colleagues at the table that day were Presbyterian and Episcopal clergy people, we’re not alone in it—is struggling to maintain faithful hope. Conversations with laypeople are similar to those of the clergy. It is, it seems, a difficult time for many of the Christians in our nation to remain optimistic.
There are a lot of factors that feed into the “Eeyore” attitude that surrounds us. Our nation’s economy has been in crisis for years, creating stress for many of us.

Too many people in our area—indeed in our entire country—have difficulty finding the kind of employment that provides a stable, healthy income, making us anxious about whether or not we will be able to care for our families—both in the present and in the future. Even if our own relationships are stable, many of us have seen friends and other loved ones face the pain of divorce or other difficulties in their relationships, causing us to us to suffer with them. Around here, even the climate affects us! Cold, gray and snowy winters make it hard for a lot of us to feel bright, cheerful and hopeful.

We are human and, even as we acknowledge God’s endless love and grace, it is sometimes hard to remain hopeful when we see the darkness that surrounds us. And we can begin to sound an awful lot like Eeyore as we bemoan the difficulties of the world.

There were some Eeyore personality types in the group that surrounded Jesus in this morning’s gospel lesson, too!

It begins with Jesus going out into the wilderness alone. He was not able to enjoy more than a few moments of solitude, though. As soon as the crowds discovered where he’d gone, they followed him. In an act of grace, Jesus had compassion on them healed the sick among them. Finally, evening comes and Jesus’ disciples are hungry. They acknowledge the hunger of the crowds as well. They become impatient and ask the Savior to send the crowds away “so that they may go into the village and buy food for themselves.”

Jesus responds by commanding the disciples to give the crowds something to eat and that’s when we hear the Eeyore response, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”

By this point in the gospel that has been attributed to St. Matthew (remember, we’re in chapter fourteen), the disciples have witnessed many miracles. Chapter eight alone describes the cleansing of a leper, healing of the centurion’s servant, casting demons out of the people who met Jesus at Peter’s house, stilling a storm, healing a paralytic, bringing a girl back from death, stopping a woman’s hemorrhaging, bringing sight to blind men, and giving voice to someone who had been mute. Those nay saying disciples darn well ought to know that Jesus can take that little bit of food and feed a crowd!

But nope. Just like we Christians in the twenty-first century, their initial response is anxiety and hopelessness—or maybe not quite like us, since none of us have been first-hand witnesses of Jesus’ miracles. Unlike those first century followers of Jesus, all we have is the stories. It sure seems that they ought to find it easier to be hopeful and optimistic than we do! Given their example, is it any wonder that we struggle?

That’s an easy one to answer. We’re human. We’re going to get caught up in doubts and, when that happens, we’re going to be less-than-hopeful.

You know what, though? We’re also baptized children of God and the gift that we have can allow us to become more like Tigger—filled with hope and joy!

And unlike those first century disciples who, though they had witnessed many miracles, did not know the fullness of the Gospel by the time this morning’s lesson takes place, you and I do have that! We know that Jesus, the same one who performed all those miracles, was persecuted because of his identity as the Son of God. We know that Jesus, the same one who took five loaves of bread and two fish, was nailed to a cross in order to take our sin into himself. And we know that Jesus, the same one who suffered so badly for our sake, granted us eternity when God raised him from the grave.

There is no greater or more joyful gift than that! There is no gift more powerful, either. With that knowledge—and with the power of God—we are called to do exactly what Jesus did in this morning’s Gospel lesson: Feed those in need! We feed and nourish the bodies of those in need when we provide gifts to our local food pantries and soup kitchens.

And we feed their need for Jesus by living and loving and sharing the joyful gift that we’ve been given! Because of the eternal nature of the gifts we’ve been given we can share the Good News with even more bouncy energy, optimism and self-confidence than Tigger. God became human. Jesus journeyed to the cross—and out of the grave! Our Lord lives in each and every one of us! We have been given eternity. These are gifts of love. Amen!

Image Credit

We're Having a Heat Wave

2011-07-24T14:41:00.000-04:00

I'm glad we got our camping trip in when we did. Temperatures hovered in the low- to mid-90's last week. It was about ten degrees cooler when we were out. Since our site was mostly shaded, we were able to stay pretty comfortable even in the heat. Last week, though, was dangerously hot for campers. There have been reports of people suffering heat exhaustion and heat stroke because of the heat.

I don't usually complain about heat and humidity. I spent too many years living in Florida to complain about the occasional Pennsylvania heat wave. After leading worship this morning, though, I'm really praying for a break soon. At 8:30 am, it was eighty-six degrees in our church sanctuary! We have ceiling fans, window fans, and an oscillating fan in the narthex. All they did today was blow around hot air, providing no relief. It was just too hot and humid!

Thankfully, our outdoor picnic service was much more comfortable. Outdoor temps probably matched what we had inside but we were right beside the river and picking up just enough of a breeze to make it bearable. We even sat and visited with friends and neighbors while we ate, and then for another hour or so.

Jason, who attended both services, had a grand time playing with other children after the picnic. He ended up soaking wet, thanks to a water fight!

Since I do complain about the cold and snow in winter, I try not to complain about the heat, especially since I'm from Florida, where this kind of heat is the norm. Honestly,though, heat in Florida is very different than heat in northwestern Pennsylvania. Virtually everyone in Florida--even the poorest people--have air conditioners which give them an escape from the heat. That is not true here. Our home does have central air conditioning, and I'm deeply grateful for it. Too many of our neighbors (and parishioners) do not have this luxury. It is worrisome, especially for some of our most elderly folks.

We need a break from it!!!

None of Your Business

2011-07-23T05:37:00.028-04:00

Dear Random Stranger at Walmart,

My son wears a MedicAlert bracelet for his health and safety. It does not exist for the purpose of giving you an opening to ask personal questions about his medical history.

Thank You,
Jason's Mommy

*************
Regular readers will know that Jason has a seizure disorder. Because of that, he wears a bracelet. I cannot even begin to count how often my son (or I) am asked about it.

Would these same people ask an adult why they have a similar piece of jewelry? I'm pretty confident in guessing that the answer that question is a negative one. My own mother has worn a MedicAlert bracelet for nearly thirty years and has never been approached by a random stranger who asked her about it.

I know he's only six, but I believe that my son deserves the same level of respect. Unless you have some need to know why a child is wearing such a bracelet--DON'T ASK!

Don and I work hard to make Jason's caregivers--from babysitters to teachers to VBS leaders to, well, anyone who needs to know--aware of his needs. Thankfully, since we have regained control of the seizures, those needs are not great. Still, it's good to train people to know what to do in the event that a seizure does occur on their watch and we do not hesitate to do so.

A stranger at the grocery store, who just happens to notice the bracelet when Jason reaches up to retrieve something from a shelf? Sorry, but you have no need to know and my son's medical history is none of your business! And are you aware of the lack of respect you've just displayed by even asking about it?

Dr. Seuss was correct, "A person's a person no matter how small," and the smallest person in my family is as deserving of respect as any adult!

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Overcomers

2011-07-22T20:43:00.000-04:00

Sally writes: Today is the Feast day of St Mary Magdalene, and as I've been pondering her life, and the inspiration she is I find in her a wonderful mix of struggle and devotion. She is both the woman who needed a deep healing and the woman who was declared (by many) to be the first amongst the apostles. She inspires me by the way she overcame so much to become so much. When I stop to think about the folk who do inspire me they are almost always overcomer's in some way or another.

With that in mind I bring you this Friday Five; List five people who inspire you to dare to step out into becoming more: Bonus question, a song or fictional character that inspires you to move beyond boundaries!

1: My mother. Regular readers will know that my mother and I have, at best, a challenging relationship. Still, she was the very first person who gave me inspiration and motivation to become who I am. Mom was raised in an extremely abusive home, but did not follow in her father's footsteps. Her parenting, although it was not always healthy (and was occasionally abusive), was many shades better than what she received. Her ability to do better helps motivate me to be even better/healthier than she was. She also inspired me to get an education, which has served me well. For all that I might complain, I really am thankful for her.

2: Charla. She's one of my closest female friends. She is also the pastor who guided me into Christianity and helped me to discern my own sense of call to ministry. We've been friends more years than I care to admit and have shared both joy and sorrows over the years. Through it all, I am given the gift of unconditional love and acceptance. These gifts inspire me to offer the same to others; I only hope I can do so as faithfully as she.

3: Jason. It's funny how a child can become an inspiration to his parents. My son has faced more medical challenges in his six years of life than I have in my forty-plus. No matter what comes up for him, though, he takes it in stride and smiles through it. His courage nurtures me and empowers me to smile through the pain and anxiety of motherhood.

(Those first three were the easy ones. Now I'm limited to only two more.)

4: Stella. When I was assigned to the congregation where I served my pastoral internship for seminary, I had no idea how much I'd come to love and appreciate the people there. Even the ones who were difficult taught me a great deal about ministry. Stella and her family probably taught me the most, though. She was my secretary and she was a deeply--and quietly--faithful woman. Her husband was diagnosed with leukemia on Halloween and passed away two days before Thanksgiving. They'd been high school sweethearts and were inseparable for most of their years; she grieved deeply. Her grief didn't prevent her from participation in life and ministry, though. Nor did her own health trials. Teaching others about Jesus--both as a Sunday School teacher and as a way of life--were important to her. She has long since joined her husband in the Church Triumphant but I continue to admire her strength and courage.

5: Joan. We shared a wall in seminary; our dorm rooms were beside one another. Like me, she divorced an angry and abusive man. Unlike me, she had children at the time. I will not share further details of her journey. Suffice it to say that I suspect that she does not know how much her courage in parenting inspires my own.

Bonus: Anne Shirley! Anne of Green Gables (and all of the sequels) are among the very-most-favorite books from my childhood. I wanted to be Anne when I grew up! No matter what challenges life threw at her, she managed to find the silver lining.

EEG

2011-07-22T05:17:00.089-04:00

This is Jason's third EEG; it's the first time we've remembered to take the camera to get pictures. It's also the single worst experience we've ever had at Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh. We had prepared Jason for the test by reminding him of how well he's always been treated there. We talked to him about the technicians' kindness and friendliness. They mark his head with a bunch of x's, and then cover the marks with electrodes. "You'll get to put an x on Mommy and Daddy," we assured him, "Remember?"

"YES!" was his excited response, "They put-ed one on my forehead, where Aunt Charla put my baptismal cross." (Such a response says something about being a PK-squared, I suppose.)

We even discussed some of the discomfort that comes with the testing and reminded him that the technicians always allow him to stop for a moment when/if he needs to do so.

Sadly, the tech we got this time was not as kind, gentle or tolerant as others we've experienced.

It all began when she failed to greet us. She came into the waiting room and called Jason's name. As we approached her, she turned her back on us and asked if Jason needed to use the bathroom. Now, it's bad enough that she turned her back on him, making no attempt to introduce herself or show him any kindness. That behavior becomes even more upsetting when you understand that my son has a hearing loss, thanks to chronic fluid in his ears. (His ENT is monitoring that and may end up replacing the tubes that fell out but didn't want to do so during the summer months, when swimming and water play is popular.)

As a result of her choice to turn her back as she spoke, Jason never heard her ask the question and didn't answer her. She impatiently repeated the question and I responded by telling her that he hadn't heard her ask but that he'd just used the bathroom a few moments earlier and that he should be fine for the test.

She took us back to the room where the test would be administered and, still not introducing herself, commanded Jason to climb up onto the table. (Note: She was not wearing a hospital name badge, either.) The table was too high for Jason to manage on his own. We've been down this road before. We know that there are stools available to allow children some level of independence in this area, but our technician did not offer one to him. In the end, I helped him climb up and, as has been our custom in the past, climbed up with him so that I could lie down and snuggle him while she attached the electrodes.

Things did not improve.

As she began drawing the x's, Jason was squirmy and upset. He kept saying, "Ouch," and expressing his discomfort.

"Oh, come on!" she'd say, "You're a big six-year-old. Be a big boy. Show me you're a big boy. This doesn't hurt. I'll get done faster if you quit moving."

I've been on the receiving end of that wax pencil. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's not comfortable. And if my son is saying, "Ouch," I'd say that the least you can do is offer him empathy!

How about turning off the insults and saying something like, "Yes, it's uncomfortable. I know it doesn't feel good. I'm working as fast as I can. If you lie still it'll go even faster?" Really, what she was saying to him with all of her "be a big boy" comments is akin to telling an adult to "Man up," or, "Put on your big girl panties." It was offensive!

When she finally got him all attached, she started the test. She sat watching the monitor for a bit. Since I was snuggling Jason, she was out of my line of vision but Don reports seeing her pull out her cell phone, read something, smile, and type a response.

Not long after that, she walked out of the room. She returned a few minutes later, after Jason was asleep, and moved one of the electrodes before leaving again. Shortly thereafter, a second technician came into the room and checked the same electrode; she departed as quickly as she'd arrived. Neither woman explained what they were doing

By the time the test was over, both Don and I were livid about the way we'd been treated! Thankfully, Don had the foresight to get the technician's name before we left.

We let Jason choose the restaurant where we had dinner and returned to camp, vowing to call the hospital on Monday in order to share our concerns.

When we called and spoke with the supervisor, we were told that, although we found the technician's "be a big boy" language insulting, "It's quite effective with many children."

REALLY? It's okay to insult children if it's an effective means of controlling them??????? UGH.

We learned that the technician had left the room because she was concerned about something she'd seen on the screen and wanted a more senior technician to take a look at it. The results of that conversation caused them to move the electrode and is why the second technician came to check on it. They didn't offer us an explanation (even when I asked), the supervisor informed us, "Because we can't give out medical information and some parents become belligerent and rude when we tell them that."

HUH? If that's true--and I have no doubt that it is--then the technicians need to be trained to deal with it. They should not be encouraged to ignore questions asked by worried parents. A simple, "We just want to be sure that the test results are accurate," would have been enough!

The supervisor did not address the cell phone issue, but we were told that this technician "has received awards in the past for excellent customer service." That's all well and good, I suppose, but she sure as hell won't be nominated by us for another one! And frankly, Madame Supervisor, neither will you.

I just hope our future experiences match our earlier ones, and not this one!

The Air Mattress

2011-07-21T12:08:00.001-04:00

My past two posts mentioned our less-than-comfortable first night at camp. Thanks to the leaky air mattress, we spent the morning of our first day at camp on the hunt for a replacement.

Since we were not in our home territory and had passed it on the way into the state park (so we knew where it was), we hit Walmart first. We found the camping section of their sporting goods department pretty depleted. There were no air mattresses in stock. Not to be deterred, I reminded Don that we had seen one similar to this at our local K-mart and that "Mr. GPS" can tell us where to find the K-mart nearest to camp. (Is it appropriate to praise God for technology? Never mind. I don't care if it's appropriate! I'll praise God for it anyway!)

Sure enough, a few minutes of programming and we were en route to the next store. We found the camping goods with little difficulty and were at first disappointed to discover that their goods were almost as limited as Walmart. We persisted in wandering the aisles and eventually stumbled across the one remaining air bed they had!

And this, my friends, is what Don and I slept on for the remainder of the week. The best part? We didn't have to climb down to--or up from--the ground every day (other than when we'd tuck Jason into his ground-level air-mattress and kiss him good night).

Ranger Rick and Rocky

2011-07-20T21:12:00.000-04:00

For years, my brother had a subscription to Ranger Rick magazine, a publication of the National Wildlife Foundation. I enjoyed reading the monthly publication as much as my brother did. For the uninitiated, I will explain. Ranger Rick is a kid-friendly raccoon who helps young children learn stewardship of God's creation. Ranger Rick reminded us not to litter, because pollution can endanger wildlife. Ranger Rick also taught us to treat all wild animals with respect. These lessons were always presented in fun ways; it never felt like a science lesson, but that's sure what was happening!

The raccoon that visited our campsite was most certainly not Ranger Rick.

It all started on "The Night of the Sinking Air Mattress." At bedtime, Don and I discovered that our air mattress, which has been used semi-regularly for more than a decade, had developed a leak. It was either going to be a long and sleepless night, or we were going to Walmart at 10pm. Choosing not to keep Jason up any later than we already had, we decided to just suck it up and go to bed. Since the air mattress was, as I alluded to a few sentences ago, losing air throughout the night, neither of us was sleeping well.

In fact, by about 2:30 am, I'd just--finally--dozed off when my husband awakened by with an anxious, "What was that?!?"

I responded as any loving wife would, "I don't know. I was finally asleep! What the f*** did it sound like?"

His answer, "Something's scratching at the tent!"

My husband, though more of an outdoors lover than I, has less tent-camping experience than I do, thanks to many years of childhood family vacations. I told him to just hit the side of the tent and the animal would go away.

"What if it's a skunk? I don't want it to spray the tent."

"Fine, then! Just lay quietly and it'll go away on its own. I had JUST FALLEN ASLEEP when you woke me."

A few minutes later, Rocky (whose identity was still unknown) had discovered the plastic containers that we'd left on our picnic table. None of them contained food; we're both experienced enough to have stored all food items in our vehicle. Still, something about those containers sure interested Rocky. Bang! Crash! Both of them hit the ground. Still worried about a skunk, my ~~brave, protective~~ husband wasn't even willing to peek out of the tent to see what the animal was.

I, on the other hand, had no such compunction. I grabbed my flashlight (but not my glasses, for some unknown reason) and crawled over to the tent door. Unzipping it, I shined the light toward the table and saw two green glowing eyes staring right into it. "I can't see what it is," I told Don, "but it's brown, so it's not a skunk."

Curious, I crawled back to the bed, found my glasses and looked again. Sure enough, there was Rocky.

Now that we knew it was a raccoon, both of us crawled out of the sunken air mattress (and how is it that the ground was so much lower at 3 am than it was when we'd crawled into that damned air mattress a few hours earlier?) and went outdoors. We gathered up the boxes--and Jason's backpack (which did have food in it and which, we discovered the next day, had been well-clawed by Rocky,though it hadn't torn)--and stowed them safely in the car.

About a half-hour later, after we'd managed to make our way back to the ground and settled into something vaguely resembling a restful state, we hear a car drive past our campsite.

I wondered aloud, "Who in HELL is coming into the campground at three-f***ing-thirty in the morning?" (I am sooooo not a night owl. I'm perfectly pleasant in the mornings, but the middle of the night is definitely not my best time!)

Within minutes, we knew that it was the folks who were camping catty-corner to us....and that Rocky had visited their site as well. Sadly, they were much less prepared than we were. We learned the next day that, in the wee hours of the morning, our neighbors were forced to clean up the contents of their cooler, food containers, and trash.

Thankfully, the rest of the week passed pretty uneventfully!

I'm home from camping.....

2011-07-18T10:32:00.000-04:00

and I've realized a few things:

1: I'm completely spoiled by the parsonage's central air conditioner. (We spent the week camping in a tent.)

2: As much as I appreciate a warm shower, cold water feels damned good sometimes! (The campground had warm water for shower and washing hands, but there was no cold water available in the bathrooms.) As warm as it was outside, it would've been nice to be able to wash my hands and face in good, cold water!

3: Air mattresses that leak SUCK!

4: Being over 40 (or, for Don, over 50) and sleeping on the ground sucks even more.

5: An air mattress with frame (similar to this) is slightly better, but still far from truly comfortable.

6: When one is used to a king-sized bed, a queen-sized air mattress isn't big enough.

7: Raccoons who are attempting to break into camping gear (even when it does not contain food) do not respond to a human commanding them, "Get away!"

On the plus side:

1: My family can put together (almost) an entire week's worth of meals that can be cooked over the campfire and/or on a two-burner Coleman stove.

2: My son is very adaptable! Oh, I've known this for awhile now, but this was his first camping trip and it was exciting to see how easily he adjusted to sleeping in a tent and crossing the road to get to the potty.

3: My son is very imaginative. Again, this isn't new or surprising, but it's always a joy to be reminded of his creativity! We were swimming in the lake at the campground when he announced that the Bubble Guppies were with us and then proceeded to tell me everything that they were doing.

4: Along with the love that we share, my husband and I truly like and enjoy one another. We worked well together setting up camp and then, at the end of the week, taking it down again. We also had some wonderful times together sitting around our evening campfires.

5: The Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium are well worth the time and money for a visit! All three of us were thrilled with the exhibits. They've gone to a great deal of effort to make the zoo kid-friendly so that, every time Jason started to get tired of "just" looking at the animals, there was something that renewed his interest. A slide inside a Baobab tree, a playground, a crawl-tunnel that allowed him to pop up and peek into the meerkat exhibit, even a playground. It was fun!

6. Though it's billed as a nine person tent, a 16x10 foot tent is just big enough for a family of three, once all the gear is thrown in!

7: Camping is as much fun as an adult as it was during my childhood!

We're already planning next year's trip....hoping to do what we'd originally planned for this year and get to the Gettysburg area.

Biomet, Part 3

2011-07-09T03:52:00.037-04:00

Part 1 is here and part two is here. To summarize, last year I received a night splint to help treat plantar fasciitis. Several weeks later, I was sent a "This is not a bill" notice from the company who provided it, but never got a bill from them. A year later, I got a phone call from a collections agency, followed by a collections notice mailed to me. During the course of that year, it is important to note, I never received a single bill or late notice.

The company claims to have sent a bill every month. They also claim that they cannot provide me with copies of the bills so, following the advice of a friend, I contacted my state's Attorney General's office and provided them with all of the relevant information.

Yesterday, the AG's office phoned to let me know that Biomet had responded to my claim. The only issue they addressed was that my bill has been paid in full and that they had not reported the issue to any credit reporting agency. (I paid the bill--via certified mail, return receipt requested--on the day I finally found out we owed it!) They said nothing about the fact that they cannot provide me with copies of a year's worth of bills that they claim to have sent to me.

When the AG's representative asked me if I was satisfied with that response, I told him that I was not. "How is it okay," I asked, "for this company to be unable to provide me with copies of my own bills?"

The representative expressed agreement with my concern and said that he was going to "red flag" it and pass it to his superiors. He also said that the AG's office is a law enforcement agency and that he cannot disclose whether or not there is an ongoing investigation against Biomet.

I have no idea where the case will go from here. I just hope that, in the future, neither I nor anyone else will have to deal with the kind of anxiety that hits when a collections agency calls unexpectedly!

And a post-script: In March, I was given a walking cast manufactured by the same company. Today is July 9 and I have not received any contact or bill from them. I have also received nothing indicating that they have billed my insurance company for it. Are there any guesses on which direction this may be heading?

RevGalBlogPals Summertime Friday Five

2011-07-08T10:25:00.001-04:00

Dorcas gives us today's Friday Five: So, what's up, Rev Gals and Pals? How are you spending your summer? (I know, some of you are in a different hemisphere and it may be chilly...sorry!) Are you experiencing fire or floods or tornados? Vacationing? Working harder than ever? Experiencing change? Longing for change?

Share five things that are happening in your life, personally or professionally or some of each, in this season of life.

1: We're looking forward to Jason's first camping trip. Originally planned for a state park near Gettysburg, PA, an EEG schedule in Pittsburgh encouraged us to change our reservations to a location closer to that city, but we are determined to make the trip. Swimming, sight-seeing, and spending time with family are all greatly anticipated.

2: Thankfully, we've seen a significant reduction in Jason's seizure activity. With new medication (Depakote), he's down from several dozen a day to between one and four. It's hopeful news. We had such good control over the damned seizures for nearly three years. I wish we'd never had to wean him from his old medication (Keppra) and see the seizures return.

3: Conversations between congregations in our cluster continue under the bishop's leadership. There are eight congregations, only one of whom can realistically afford to continue paying a full-time pastor (and they have two). We've been talking for over a year now as we seek to discern how we can best continue to offer ministry to our communities. We know that shared ministry is in our future but we haven't yet decided what that will look like. It's been interesting--and more than a little disheartening--too see how little input our laypeople are giving. We (that is, the pastors) are hoping to see that change as the task group faces the bishop's strong encouragement to take some authority.

4: Churchwide Assembly is quickly approaching. I'm one of two clergy members from our synod attending. (The other is our bishop.) I was at the 2009 Assembly as well. I have opted out of all the "extras" associated with it, though. As a natural extrovert, I enjoy that stuff. At the same time, it takes me quite awhile to unwind from it and I suffer from a lack of sleep if I do it all. This year, I'm giving myself the gift of a single room. It's an exhausting week and I'm following good self-care for it.

5: Don and I will celebrate eleven years of marriage in less than two months, on September 2. This has, without a doubt, been our most difficult year........thanks to something that hit just as we were marking our tenth anniversary. I'm grateful that we've managed to survive it and am feeling hopeful for the future!

More on Marriage

2011-06-27T07:51:00.000-04:00

My mother-in-law (age 91) is the widow of a coal miner. She has a solid, healthy income, thanks to her husband's retirement benefits. She is also in a position where she cannot afford to re-marry and risk losing those benefits. My mother's (age 65) position is similar, though her widow's benefit is significantly less than mother-in-law's. As one who calls Florida "home," I can point to countless individuals who share their dilemma.

When they meet someone that they love, someone with whom they'd like to share the remainder of their days, what options do they have?

Several years ago, mother-in-law chose to invite "her" gentleman to move into her home. They lived together for more than five years before he, too, passed away, leaving her, for all intents and purposes, widowed a second time. If she'd married him, she'd have lost the benefits she receives from my father-in-law but would not have had access to anything from her 'new' husband at his death. Trust me when I say that I am not exaggerating when I say that she'd have been forced into poverty.

It is, in my opinion, an unjust situation. Mother-in-law is a devout Christian who was never completely comfortable with her status as one who "lived in sin" (her opinion, usually offered in a jocular tone, but with serious undertones). It is also a situation for which the Church could offer a fix. It seems to me that a couple who does not desire legal marriage but wishes to make a religious commitment to one another could stand before the Church and do so. Blessing such a relationship would, in my opinion, provide people like my mother-in-law (and others of her generation) the comfort of knowing that God does not frown on their love while, at the same time, allowing them to maintain financial security.

I'm just that radical. I'd like God's love to be made known as openly--and in as many situations--as possible!

Good for New York!

2011-06-26T17:46:00.001-04:00

Conversation between Jason an me this week:

Jason: Mommy, can girls marry girls? And can boys marry boys?
Mommy: Not in Pennsylvania.
J: But can they?
M: Well, Sweetie, I think people should marry who they love, no matter if they're boys or girls or--like your daddy and me--one of each.
J: Okay.

We have very close friends who are homosexual and in stable, loving, healthy relationships. Jason has seen them together and, on occasion, has even witnessed public displays of affection between them (hand-holding, quick kisses). It has never bothered my husband or myself.

We live within an hour's drive of New York State, which recently voted to legalize same-gender marriages, but my own state is nowhere near prepared to pass a similar law. Prejudices still govern here, it seems. Still, I would be delighted to have the ability and freedom to perform a ceremony joining my friends together in the same relationship that binds my husband and me. I just do not believe that God, who I know as one of love and grace, would refuse such a gift to anyone.

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Faith and Culture Edition

2011-06-24T13:41:00.004-04:00

Posted by Terri over at RevGalBlogPals: In honor of a week of interfaith study and celebration:

1. Have you ever had an experience of a religion other than your own? And, if so, what was it like for you to experience something different? If you haven't, what religion might you like to study, experience, and learn more about? Well, as much as the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints don't like to think of themselves as being outside of Christianity, they're definitely not in the mainstream. I spent more than a decade of my life very actively involved as a member of that church. It was, in many ways, a challenge for me--and became even more of one when I began to understand God's endless grace as the source of any and all good that exists in myself.

Completely outside the Christian realm, I attended a continuing education event at Gettysburg Seminary, a year or so ago, whose focus was relationships between those of the Muslim faith and Christians. It was fascinating. It also served to make me very grateful for my own theological understanding of God. The presenter, a woman, described a life of faith and fear. She lived always with the gift of faith, but also always afraid that she wasn't doing/being "enough" for God. As a Christian--particularly as a Lutheran Christian--I live always in faith and hope. Does that mean that fear is absent? Nope. But I know that God's grace will override all of my sin, which is Good News and gives me hope that overcomes human fear.

I would love to learn even more about the Muslim faith, especially to know if the understanding that I took from that day's presentations was an accurate one of Muslim theology.

2. Have you ever studied, travelled, or explored other cultures? What and where, and when? The only traveling to other cultures I've done has been on cruise ships which doesn't really count as a means of exploration, given the limited exposure one gets to the actual culture of the place one visits.

I have, however, lived in various parts of the United States and, based on those experiences, can attest that we we may be "one nation, under God," but the culture of our nation varies by region. In the south, for example, racism is much more openly expressed than it is where I live now. Is that for the better? I don't know, but I do know that it feels more honest than where I live now, where racism still exists but is more subtly expressed.

3. Any stories you wish to share about a person (author, teacher, etc), or a friend or colleague, from another culture or religion, who has impacted you in some capacity? Mr. Adams was our nearest neighbor when we moved to Florida. To my early-teenage eyes, he was old. (In reality, he was in his mid-sixties, certainly not ancient. It's all about perspective, isn't it?) At any rate, Mr. Adams was the grandson (or great-grandson, we never figured out for sure which relationship applied) of a slave who proudly told of his ancestor's status.

We were solidly middle-class and WASP. The differences in our cultures could have created a vast divide between us, but they did not. Mr. Adams had a huge and open heart. He loved my brother and myself and, in may ways, became an additional grandfather to us. He taught us that, for all the hardships that slaves endured, they also found joy in their journeys. His stories never made us think that there was any thing good or right about slave-owning, but they taught us that humans can be pretty damned resilient and, from my present-day perspective as a Christian, that God really is always present.

I was in college when Mrs. Adams died, her funeral was my family's first exposure to an African-American end-of-life celebration. And what a celebration it was! I will never forget the overwhelming sense of joy that surrounded those who attended. Even now, more than twenty years later, I look back at that service with gratitude for the understanding of eternity that was so clear and so joyful!

Pastor’s Ponderings: Finding God in the Challenges of Life

2011-06-22T15:12:00.000-04:00

July/August Newsletter Article. (Note that this is a draft which will be edited before publishing.)

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:18, 28

Joy and pain. Celebrations and sorrows. Life is filled with challenges. We know this reality. Few of us reach adulthood without experiencing it. The rare ones whose childhoods are idyllic and easy will not altogether escape the pain and sorrows of humanity when they become adults. Crises hit in every lifetime.

It is true that each of us is unique. It is equally true that none of us journeys through life without suffering. Some of us will experience significant health issues. Others will face difficult predicaments within our families. Still others will face financial disasters. And, of course, there are those for whom every imaginable catastrophe hits.

Entire regions of our world fall victim to natural disasters. Tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and floods all bring destruction and suffering. Added to all of this is the fact that human beings often deliberately act in ways that bring pain and sorrow to others. Our correctional facilities are filled with people who make those choices.

Whether it affects individuals or groups, one thing is certain: Suffering happens.

When it comes, a very human—and very common—response to suffering is frustration and anger. Few people I know experience the sorrow and pain of their life journey without those emotions. As I write this, my son is experiencing dozens of seizures daily. My family journeyed down this road a few years ago, when Jason was first diagnosed with a seizure disorder. That experience has not made recent events easier for us; I am deeply familiar with the human response to suffering!

In the face of suffering, even in the midst of frustration and anger, we have these words from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.”

Those who have been gifted with faith live under God’s promise of an eternity free from darkness, pain and suffering. Our Lord entered our world and journeyed through a fully human life. Jesus suffered rejection. The Savior of the world was nailed to a cross. His suffering tells us that we are not alone in ours. Jesus’ resurrection, a fulfillment of a divine promise, points to the time when we will surrounded by such joy and light that the suffering of this lifetime will be of little concern to us. This is our Good News!

St. Paul also writes, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” There is nothing in this sentence that indicates God causes human suffering, but there is a promise that God can—and does—bring good out of it. I have just enough life experience to know that, even if I can’t see any other good from the suffering in my past pain, my Lord has accompanied me through it. That gift helps me to trust that God is with me in whatever hardships I may experience today. It is my hope that you find that same gift in yourself.

Yours in Christ,
Pastor Beth

Seizure Update

2011-06-20T12:40:00.000-04:00

Following the neurologist's advice, we very quickly returned Jason to his full dose of Keppra. He's been on that dose for over a week and we're still seeing 10-24 or more seizures daily. When I watch his beautiful brown eyes go completely blank as a seizure begins, my heart jumps into my throat. I hate the damned seizures. Having been down this road before, as I've said in the past, is not making the twists and turns of the journey any easier this time.

Today, I talked with his neurologist again. He wants another EEG. He's also ordered an increase in medication, and the addition of vitamin B6 to the regimen. The B6 is to help combat irritability that is caused by the Keppra.

I sit here crying as I confess that we had no clue that Jason's frequent crying and, "You hurt my feelings," statements were medication-related. You see, he's been taking this medication since he was two. Was he moody because of the medication? Or was it just because he was two and, as all toddlers do, seeking more independence than we were willing to give? We honestly had no way of knowing which was the case.

Weaning him showed us just how much his emotional reactions to things are escalated by the medication. The joy that is innate in my son is being overridden by medication. It is a heartbreaking fact.

If the medication increase does not control the seizures and/or if we cannot control Jason's irritability, then we can try other drugs. It feels like a crapshoot, though. This drug may work....or it may not. The same is true for that one. And for the other one. Every new drug comes with the possibility of new--and worse--side-effects, as well.

I do not want this for my son. I'm selfish; I don't want it for myself, either.

I have no choice in the matter, though.

And somehow, in the middle of my fear, anxiety and (yes) anger, I have to trust that God accompanies us along the journey. I'm not having an easy time of that one.

Sometimes It's Hard Not To Be Pissed At The Universe

2011-06-04T18:51:00.000-04:00

Last night, as we dined at a restaurant, my son was calmly and quietly eating dinner. As he brought the spoon to his mouth, both of his arms jerked causing him to spill salad into his lap. Today, as we walked into the public library, I saw the same thing happen. It's happened three more times today.

They're myoclonic seizures. I've seen them before. I know what they are.

And every fiber of my being was hoping that we'd never see another one.

We weaned him off his medication gradually, following the doctor's orders. It took five weeks. He was medication-free for just two weeks when we spotted these newest seizures.

You know, of course, that I do not want this for my son.

It's not in my control, though. I don't get to make that decision.

And Jason's a trouper. When we told him that it looked like he was having seizures, he simply said, "I guess my seizures came back," with no concern at all. His courage helps his parents, and is why he's my biggest hero.

Jason hasn't seen the tears that his daddy and I have shed today. Nor will he, if I can help it.

More About Schools

2011-06-03T07:55:00.000-04:00

Our school district is one (of two) in PA that encompass the entire county. I've been told that the high school where we live will graduate less than forty students on Friday. It houses grades 6-12. Every year, they struggle to field athletic teams. Many students are forced or manipulated into playing sports they don't like because the coaches guilt them into it. "If you don't play, we won't have a team," they are told. The 'favor' is returned as others do the same thing, so that the kid who doesn't like football does get to play basketball, for example.

About three years ago, one of our local track stars (the kid had been to states--and medaled--two years in a row) completely lost the opportunity for a track scholarship when he was injured during football season in his senior year. He was one of those who didn't want to play but was sucked into it anyway. He was also lucky enough that his parents are able to provide college for him. That's not true for most of our kids.

We are "outsiders" who don't share local loyalty to the schools and, around here, that means that our voices go unheard. There are some vocal locals who share that opinion, but based on conversations with them, I'd say that there are many more who are afraid to speak out because they know it causes conflict.

Honestly, as both a former teacher and a mother, I'm a fan of keeping elementary schools smaller while consolidating the middle and high schools. The elementary school in our town has fifteen kids in Jason's kindergarten class. First grade has about 20 and second through fifth grades are all between 35-40 students (two classes each for grades 2-5). We consistently have the highest percentage of parent participation, the highest standardized test scores in the county, and the highest percentage of students who manage to complete their grade-level rewards (both academic and citizenship). There are two other small schools in the county. All three of the small schools outscore the one big elementary school in every area I mentioned above. I've seen the same hold true in every district where I've taught and lived.

Given the poverty level here (ninety percent of the students at Jason's school are on free or reduced lunch), moving our kids to a neighboring town (six miles away) would greatly reduce parent participation as many of us are currently able to walk to the school to volunteer. *I* could--and would--continue to volunteer if they move the kids, but many families cannot afford the gasoline it would take to make the commute. Losing so many helpful parents, I believe, would do a disservice to our children and to our school district.

If we were to consolidate the four high schools into one, it would still be considerably smaller than the one from which I graduated, and to which I rode a bus for an hour every morning. Is that ideal? I'd say not. And my parents were not thrilled with it when they learned that it was a consequence of our move from the Albany, NY area to (what was then) rural Central Florida). Still, I had options in my education that students here do not. Consolidating might increase bus rides here, or it might not. That would depend on how the routes were drawn, honestly.

If we were to build one large high school (large being a relative term), in the city that is in the center of the county, none of us would be commuting further than 20 miles to school. And every resident of the county makes that commute on a regular basis as the town has the only options for shopping and dining out. It's the same issue we struggle with within the church. Everyone's willing to make that drive to work, to shop, to eat out.....no one wants to do it for worship or education.

The word I've heard from a conversation with a school board member is that they're discussing making our local school a center for grades 2-5 and the school in a neighboring town (6 miles away) the center for K-1. This is not really a healthy, long-term solution, but it's likely to be the path of least resistance. And since overt conflict is such a huge no-no in the passive-aggressive area where we live, it's likely to happen.

No matter what decisions are made this year, the coming years will continue to be difficult. That's for sure.

Taxes, Education, and Loyalty

2011-06-02T17:01:00.000-04:00

I've never met anyone who enjoys paying taxes. Still, they are something that is, in my mind, vital for the continued health of our town, township, county, state and nation.

We have more than a seven million dollar deficit in our school district's budget for next year. Because of this, our local school board recently announced that more than ninety teachers will find themselves without employment at the end of the school year. Parents, including myself, are up in arms at such a loss. It will affect class size and the quality of education our children receive.

Everyone's complaining about the lay-offs, but no one wants to increase our taxes to help make up the difference.

They've also discussed consolidating all four of our county's high schools into one. Such a school would house less than a thousand students and would, in my opinion, be a good choice as it would allow students who currently have very limited access to electives, advanced placement courses, and programs many more choices. It would also make it much easier to field strong sports teams. Socially, academically, and athletically it seems that this would be the healthiest option for our district.

It would also ease the financial burden as it would eliminate the need to heat and maintain three buildings and the property that surrounds them. Teacher lay-offs would still occur, to be sure. After all, with only one high school, we probably wouldn't need four full-time music teachers, especially if the information I've been given about class size is accurate. One would suffice. The same is true for virtually all subjects. Similar issues exist within our elementary schools.

On one hand, I understand school loyalty and the reluctance to see one's alma mater cease to exist. On the other hand, I'd like to see our district make choices that will best serve the needs of our current students.

Interestingly enough, the same people who are fighting so hard to keep every school open are the ones most vocally opposed to the additional taxes needed to do so.

Sigh.

I Think I'm Figuring Things Out

2011-05-28T14:44:00.000-04:00

The other morning, as I sat taking in my morning dose of caffeine, Mom noted that I was drinking Coke (Zero). "A (my niece) used to drink Coke but since she's taken up with T, she's switched to Pepsi, because that's what he likes."

She went on to say, "I told her, 'If I were you and I was the one buying it, T would drink what I like,'" in her typically angry style. She is "disgusted" (her word, not mine) by Niece's becoming a "chameleon" and putting "her man's" choices above her own.

It was too early for me to do much more than listen so I didn't respond to her.

I cannot help but reflect on her words, though. You see, I have spent my entire life watching my mother place her own wants and needs far below those of the men in her life. For years, she drank coffee strong enough to stand on its own, without a mug, because that's what my stepfather preferred. She ate foods she hated because she only cooked one meal for the family and she catered to the taste of her husband. And she went without necessities, including things like new underwear, because her husband had other desires.

Today, having been widowed for more than a decade, she'll make the same choices in order to make my brother happy. Want an example? Mom says that she hates split pea soup. She made it several times a year during my childhood, because my stepfather loved it. Now she makes it for my brother, at Brother's request.

Mom prefers the ham & bean soup that I make but, since Brother likes split pea, that's what she makes. (And then she'll call and complain to me.)

I have not followed her example. My husband loves fish and virtually all forms of seafood. I abhor it; even the smell of it is offensive to me. We have been married for more than a decade and I have never--not once--cooked fish for him. He often chooses to order it when we dine at restaurants, since he likes it so much. Don doesn't ask me to cook it because, to his mind, it would be a waste for me to do so, since he knows that I won't eat it.

The same works in reverse. Don hates any and all Mexican foods. Despite the fact that those are among my favorites, I do not cook them. Fair is fair and I make the same choice that my husband makes, often choosing to order a taco salad or something similar when we go out for dinner. On the rare occasion when I make tacos at home (because Jason likes them, too, and asks for them from time-to-time), I do so when Don will not be home or when I have leftovers of something else for him to eat.

Honestly, it would feel disrespectful if either my husband or I were to insist that either of us eat foods that the other really does not like. It also seems wasteful of my time and energy to prepare a meal for only one-third of the family. And given that there is a huge variety of food choices on which we agree, neither of us feels deprived or neglected.

My mother once told me that she chose to put her husband's tastes and desires first because she was a "good wife." By that definition, I don't qualify as a very good wife. Thankfully, neither Don nor I use that standard to define my wifely goodness.

But in the course of this visit, and on reflection of years past, I've come to the conclusion that Mom doesn't like it when women are like her. And Mom doesn't like it when women are different from her. I "lose" on both counts.

And I continue to be certain that Mom suffers from depression and wish she'd get treatment for it.

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Allergies

2011-05-27T11:59:00.001-04:00

It's allergy season everywhere, apparently. Mary Beth over at RevGals has posted this Friday Five:

1. Do you experience any seasonal allergies? Are you allergic to anything else? I have hayfever in the spring, but no other seasonal allergies. I'm allergic to wool so I never buy sweaters, blankets, etc with it. I'm also allergic to watermelon and cannot eat it for that reason.

2. What kinds of symptoms do you experience during your allergic reactions? Hayfever brings sneezing, runny nose, itchy eyes, and scratchy throat. Wool makes me itch. And watermelon makes my mouth itch.

3. How do you manage your allergies? (ie: medication, avoidance, alternative therapies, etc) Hayfever is managed with medications--Allegra is my favorite. I avoid wool and watermelon.

4. What is the strangest allergy you've ever heard of? When people learn that I'm allergic to watermelon, they tell me THAT's the strangest allergy in the world. It just might be true, since I've never heard of a stranger one.

5. How do you feel about school and social policies that banning peanuts and other allergens? If a child with a deadly allergy is enrolled in my son's school, then I'm happy to comply with a peanut ban.

Follow-up Regarding Biomet

2011-05-23T10:41:00.000-04:00

Three weeks ago today, I received a phone call from a collections agency regarding a medical bill. Here are details. I sent that letter with payment of the bill and then an edited version was sent to my state Attorney General.

Today, the Attorney General's office returned my call. I have been instructed to fill out their online form and attach copies of the information that I included with my letter. That form gives them permission to open an investigation of Biomet's business practices.

Conversation with the AG's representative, Michelle, left me feeling appreciative of their concern. I have no idea where the investigation will lead them (or me), but I hope that no one else will end up feeling threatened by a collections agent who speaks rudely and disrespectfully toward them.

Connections Kids Make

2011-05-20T09:06:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, Jason and I were chatting.

"Mommy," he said, "When I get married and have a baby girl, you will be her grandma."

"Yes."

"And Daddy will be her uncle."

"No, Pie," I replied, "Daddy will be her grandpa."

"Will Daddy be dead?" he asked.

Caught a bit off-guard, but immediately understanding the question, I told him that I hope not! "Daddy will have lots of fun being a grandpa!"

"But my grandpas are dead," he observed.

At that point, I explained to him that both men died relatively young because they were ill. My own father suffered from leukemia and, despite a bone marrow transplant, the disease took his life when he was 53 years old. Don's father died in his early sixties, as result of Black Lung Disease, brought on by his life's work as a coal miner. I didn't give Jason those details but I did offer him the assuring, "Your Daddy's pretty healthy. I sure hope he's still alive to snuggle your children."

That ended the day's conversation. I am not sure when it'll arise again, but I have no doubt that it will, and I pray daily for the wisdom that I will need in parenting.

Faith, Ethics, and Honesty in Parish Ministry

2011-05-19T10:13:00.000-04:00

Today's question over at RevGals prompted this memory: Immediately after accepting my first call (where I still serve) the then-president of council said, "Now that you've signed on the dotted line, I suppose it's time for full disclosure. We can only support your salary for about five years, unless our membership and giving increase significantly." I made the conscious choice to continue with the call, despite this experience.

That man, I discovered as I served beside him held values and morals were often in conflict with mine (but were in keeping with what he modeled during the call process). We butted heads over things like how my salary and compensation should be reported to the IRS. We disagreed about how the congregation can serve the community. Heck, the man didn't even like the fact that I preach justification by grace through faith--not a theology of "work harder, get more."

Example: Because I live in my husband's parsonage, we cannot claim a tax-exemption on the housing allowance that my congregation is required to pay me. I understood this and intended to comply with the law. Then-president wanted to "help" me by fudging some of the numbers, and expressed confidence that we'd never be caught. Since tax-related 'stuff' is not my area of expertise, I asked my accountant to call and speak with then-president, in order to be certain that my instincts and understanding of the issue was correct. In the end, with the support of my accountant, the budget reflects what I needed.

Another one: Then-president wanted us to block our entire parking lot from use for anything other than congregational events. Doing so would, I pointed out, prevent a lot of parents and community members from using it when soccer games were in progress at the field directly across the street from us. Allowing the use of our parking lot is a service to a community and closing it off had the potential to make us appear unwelcoming and unfriendly. The then vice-president and other members of council spoke in agreement with me and the lot has been kept open.

There are other examples, as well.

Then-president finished his term on council a year after I came here and had refused to return to such a position since (despite his long-term history of sitting out the required year and returning as soon as he was permitted to do so). It's not a bad thing, in my mind. I'd rather be able to trust that our congregation is faithful to God than live with questionable ethics and/or a less-than-Christlike reputation in our community.

Eight years later, I'm still here. We pull $30K from investments on an annual basis in order to meet our budget. We've also managed to replace most of those funds, thanks to bequests and other gifts. Still, income and spending are huge challenges here. We pinch pennies, often to the detriment of faithful ministry, including Christian Education, youth programs, and community outreach. It's hard on a pastor. Or, more accurately, it's hard on me, given that my sense of Church is often very different from that of many congregation members, whose stated intent and focus is to maintain this congregation as long as possible.

With--or without--these struggles, I am not afraid to preach, teach and model sacrificial financial stewardship and we've seen a 20% per capita increase in giving since I've been here, despite shrinking attendance numbers. I also am not reluctant to encourage a vision of Church that includes the call to feed the hungry (both literally and spiritually), clothing the naked, and comforting those in pain. And I thoroughly enjoy opportunities to work with our young people.

Regular readers know how much I struggle at times. Still, I can look around me and see that my God-given gifts have made a difference to the Lord's people in this place.

Feet, Feet, and More Feet

2011-05-18T17:44:00.000-04:00

Podiatrist had a cancellation on Monday morning. (Thanks be to God!) He asked if I'd worn the boot as prescribed for three weeks. I assured him that I had and then, in response to his next question, added that my pain level is back to the level it was a year ago, when I first saw him. He said that, since the inflammation is even worse than it was then, he was not surprised.

He said, "I have a suspicion here," and said that he wanted more information, then started asking me questions about knee and hip pain. "Honestly, my feet hurt so badly that I don't think I would even notice that," I told him.

"Fair enough," was his response. Then he asked about other joint pain, specifically in my hands and back. I told him that I was no longer able to use a hand-operated can opener, often cannot open my son's medicine bottle, or unhook our dog's collar to remove it from her neck. "Are your hands stiff or just sore?"

Answer? Both.

"How about your back? How do you feel when you wake up? Are you stiff and sore then, too?"

Again, "Yes."

At that point, he told me he'd give me a prescription for the pain and inflammation (Voltaren) and that he wanted blood work done because he "suspects a soft tissue inflammatory disease." When I asked what that meant, he told me that he was hesitant to answer until his suspicion was confirmed (or denied) by the blood work.

Next stop: Hospital lab for blood draw.

Now I wait for results.

And, of course, search the 'net for information about soft tissue inflammatory diseases. Rheumatoid Arthritis seems to top the list and, based on what I've read about symptoms, makes sense.

So far, the Voltaren is providing some measure of relief, as has been true for all of the anti-inflammatory medications I've taken. It's good news. Still, anxiety abounds. Prayers appreciated.

Fun Times!

2011-05-13T21:31:00.000-04:00

We're traveling. More accurately, we're traveling with a kid who is suffering with spring allergies. Said kid has his mother's gag reflex. Hard coughing spells often lead him to gagging and occasionally to puking.

You can, of course, see where this is going, can't you?

We're two hours from home, almost to our hotel. Jason started to cough and I noted the time, "He's due for his medicine," I told Don. "I'll have to make sure to get it into him as soon as we stop."

Too late. We ended up pulling off the interstate to change Jason's clothes. Since he's almost six, I don't carry the whole kit and kaboodle I carried during his infancy and toddler-hood. I had just a few baby wipes, and those were mostly dried out. Don did the best he could on the car seat and then we put one of Daddy's t-shirts under Jason's bottom before loading him back into the car for the remaining fifteen miles.

We checked into the hotel two hours ago and are just now settling in for the night. Oh, Jason's sound asleep. Mommy and Daddy, however, have been busy scrubbing the car seat (me) and laundering Jason's clothes and the car seat cover (Don).

Tomorrow, I intend to make sure that I dose him with his allergy and cough medicines on time!

BIOMET

2011-05-12T15:43:00.000-04:00

First draft of the letter that will go to the billing department, the CEO of the company, and my State Attorney General, thanks to a friend's advice.

May 12, 2011

To Whom It May Concern:

I am very angry. I received a phone call from a collections agency on the morning of May 11, 2011. The caller informed me that I had failed to pay a debt that I owed to your company and that I was in collections.

He demanded immediate payment and threatened me with legal action if I failed to comply. Every time I began to speak, he cut me off and insisted that I needed to make immediate payment. Since I had never received any notice of said debt from your company, I refused to do so, choosing instead to contact Biomet directly.

Prior to making that contact, my husband and I sorted through our entire stack of medical bills and notices from the previous year. In doing so, we found only one letter from your company, clearly marked, “THIS IS NOT A BILL” (copy enclosed). This notice states that you have billed my insurance carrier and asks for secondary insurance information, if applicable. Since we have no secondary insurance, we did not submit such information to you.

Shortly after receiving that communication from your company, I received notice from my insurance company (copy enclosed). It tells me that they had received your bill and, since we had not met our deductible for the year, we would need to pay for the equipment I had received. The dollar amounts cited on these two pieces of communication do not match, as you can see. We were confused and awaited further information from your company.

We never received it, until the phone call from the collections agency.

Following that phone call, I called your company and was told that I had, in fact, been sent a bill. The agent with whom I spoke (Marva?) also said, “I’m sorry, but there is no copy available.” I find that deeply disturbing. If, in fact, your organization sent me a bill, then it should be very easy for you to provide me a copy of said bill.

Today, I spoke with Nancy, who claims to be a supervisor to Marva. She informs me that bills have, in fact, been sent “every month” since last year. When I requested that she send me copies of said bills, she informed me that since they are generated automatically, she has no way of sending me copies. This is, in my opinion, very poor business practice.

Frankly, I do not have any reason to believe that bills were sent. Your “THIS IS NOT A BILL” notice arrived without difficulty. It is astounding to me that your collections agency was able to get a bill through to me on their very first attempt but that your company could not manage to get a single one through to me over the space of a year.

I respectfully request that you remove me from your collections list and notify any and all credit bureaus with whom you have shared this information that it has been paid in full. Further, I suggest that you refine your billing process. Customers should receive bills in a timely manner and, should that not happen, your company should be able to provide hard copies of bills in response to customer’s request.

Your business practices leave a great deal to be desired.

Thank You

Check This Out!

2011-05-10T18:16:00.000-04:00

Click to enlarge.

The teacher wrote "Dear" and "Thank you" on the chalkboard; Jason wrote the rest, including the spelling! Both the spelling and the handwriting make for a proud mama!

Pictures, anyone?

2011-05-06T18:21:00.000-04:00

It's May, time for Jason's birthday pictures. Don and I talked about it today but I didn't get around to calling to schedule an appointment. Turns out that was a good thing:

Poor kid was running home from school today when he took a tumble on the sidewalk. This is the result.

Well, this and a trip to Walmart to order replacement glasses, since his were completely destroyed. We were smart this time. We ordered an extra pair, thanks to the nine-dollar frames they sell. You know, of course, that the extra pair of glasses virtually guarantees that no such accident will happen again--at least, not until he gets his next set of new glasses and we fail to buy an extra pair.

It's the same rule that prevents rain from falling as long as I carry my umbrella. Let me leave it behind, though, and I promise you the skies will open up in such a way that even Noah would be taken aback.

All things considered, I'm very glad he wasn't hurt worse.

At the same time, since our line of vision was blocked by the group of children who were running ahead of him, I'm worried. Today was the first day of step three in reducing his anti-seizure medication. So far, we've seen nothing to cause us worry. Each new step, though, brings a new level of anxiety. Did he fall because he had a seizure? Or did he fall simply because he lacks coordination?

The latter is, admittedly, a very real possibility given that he inherited his coordination from his mother. (Yes, as a matter of fact, it does make me proud.)

The only thing I can do is continue to be vigilant. And I can pray..........as well as ask you, Readers, to do the same.

Bin Laden's Death

2011-05-02T11:08:00.001-04:00

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice.

Proverbs 24:17

This was my Facebook status for this morning. Tired from a long Sunday, my husband and I were in bed when our president announced the news last night. Our first hint came this morning, when my husband brought in our local paper which, by some miracle, actually had current events on the front page. Huge, black letters announced, "WE GOT HIM!" I happened to be checking into Facebook at the same time, which confirmed the news. (Yes, it takes Facebook to confirm a headline in our local paper.)

I will confess to having mixed feelings about Bin Laden's death, but none of them is a sense of rejoicing. Don't get me wrong, I am not disappointed in the news, and I admitted that on Facebook. I am an American. I have vivid and painful memories of September 11, 2001. Those memories give me empathy for those who are rejoicing today.

I am also a Lutheran. It seems obvious that our government fulfilled its appointed role in ridding the world of a very dangerous man. I do not feel sorrow at his death.

Still, there is no joy in my heart at the news.

Perhaps my Facebook quote from the book of Proverbs came across as self-righteous. It was not intended as such. I simply cannot find joy and, since I had absolutely no hand in his death, I have no reason to gloat.

I have an abundant sense of anxiety today. I am not naive enough to trust that this will end the War on Terror. I am, in fact, afraid of the opposite happening. Bin Laden's followers are not innocent men and women. They have been well-trained in terrorism. It frightens me to think that, if they so choose, they can bypass our national security and infiltrate our nation, endangering us all.

I have loved ones who serve actively in the United States military. All of them have said that the national threat level has reached a higher status than they can remember, equaling that immediately following the 9-11 attacks. Their concern is valid and their expressions of it are feeding my own anxiety.

Bin Laden's death is good news for Americans. Bin Laden's death is, I would venture to say, good news for our world. An evil man has been eradicated.

Evil, as a whole, has not.

The timing of this event is interesting to me. It comes one week after Christians celebrated the Resurrection of our Lord, a day which marks God's eternal victory over evil, darkness, and death, while we're still in the midst of the season of Easter. Until the promised return of our Lord, we will continue to do battle with evil. Osama Bin Laden could not take God's promise from us, nor will his successor. Christ is Risen. Our Lord's promise of eternal life is ahead of us.

That is news worthy of rejoicing.

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: A Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T09:06:00.000-04:00

here is a Royal Wedding Friday Five:

1) Will you be watching? If so, is this your first royal wedding? Unlike Princess Di's wedding, I didn't set my alarm to wake up early for it, but I did manage to tune in just in time for the vows. I was thirteen when Charles and Diana were married, still young and naive enough to believe in fairy-tale endings.

2) The bride has chosen as her wedding cake a fruitcake. Where do you stand on this pastry? She chose it??? As in, she WANTED it??? As in, she expects people to EAT it??? And LIKE it??? I suppose those questions give my opinion away. Fruitcake = YUCK!

3) The dress code for royal weddings has not seen the same sad decline as that for most other weddings. If you could design your own royal wedding hat, what color would it be and what special decoration would it feature? Pink! It's my favorite color and it looks good on me. And I think I'd like it to have a bow on it!

4) Any chance the Archbishop of Canterbury is using a Sustainable Sermon (tip of the mitre to the Vicar of Hogsmeade)? What would you tell the couple were you offering the homily? Marriage is hard work. Love is a verb, not an emotion. God's grace abounds for each of you, allow that gift to empower you to share that same grace with one another.

5) Believe it or not, kathrynzj is getting up early mostly to see the wedding dress. By the time this post is up, the world will have seen it. Did you like it? I missed most of the event, so I'm not sure it's fair to say that I 'liked' it. I do, however, love the pomp and celebration!

Easter Picture

2011-04-28T17:49:00.000-04:00

Here's my handsome little man on Easter Sunday:

Pastor's Ponderings: Faith

2011-04-26T11:37:00.000-04:00

My May-June 2011 Newsletter Article:

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.

Ephesians 2:8-9

For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.

Romans 1:16

Belief is a choice. Faith is a gift. Even when the first comes up short, the other abounds!

As we celebrate the holiest season of the church year, I am again reminded that The Easter Story—the story which is so central to our faith—is an almost unbelievable tale. I’m writing this during Holy Week. We gather for worship during this sacred season with a sense of wonder as we acknowledge again what God has done for us. At the same time, even the most faithful Christian cannot help but face a different kind of wonder as we occasionally struggle to believe the story which is so central to our faith.

Think about it. God, the Creator of the Universe, chose to become human. The Lord of all was born in a damp, dark stable and laid in the animals’ feeding trough. Despite modern Christmas Eve celebrations which might lead us to believe otherwise, the moment of the Lord’s incarnation was not entirely bright and joyful.

We could say the same thing about his day-to-day ministry. No matter where he went, no matter how many miracles he performed, Jesus faced resistance and hostility. Sure, there were those whose faith empowered them to follow Jesus. Ultimately, though, even his most faithful followers failed to acknowledge his divine identity when faced with their own persecution.

Our Savior’s ministry and preaching opposed that of both the existing religious leadership and the government, angering both groups, but it wasn’t those authorities who called for his crucifixion. Jesus was crucified because the crowd—including his own followers—shouted for it. Three days after being placed in his grave, when the women approached his tomb, they found it wide open and empty. When they encountered the Risen Lord, he was not recognized immediately, despite the fact that Jesus was no stranger to them before his death.

Summed up in a few sentences, there is a lot about the Jesus story that is difficult to believe! God becomes human? The Incarnate Lord is born in such lowly circumstances? A significant percentage of humanity fails to recognize their own Creator? The Divine One submits to governmental authority and allows himself to be put to death? Jesus’ closest followers fail to recognize him when he greets them after his resurrection?

Without the gift of faith, even the resurrection itself is not a believable event!

Disbelief, or simply struggling with belief, does not equal a lack of faith. Most Christians, no matter how devout, will experience moments when the challenges of life become so overwhelming that we struggle to believe what our faith teaches.

In the midst of our struggles, faith comes to us as a gift from God and is the sole source of our salvation. We have done nothing to earn the gift of faith. We have done nothing to make us worthy of eternal life; still, we live under God’s promise of it.

This is hope. This is Truth. And even when it’s impossible for us to believe it: This is Good News!

Yours in Christ,
Pastor Beth

Mammogram Update

2011-04-18T09:30:00.000-04:00

Long story short: Everything looked 'exactly the same' as it did in January, which is good news. I'll go back in three months and, if all is still the same, expect to return to routine, annual mammograms.

Longer version: We arrived at the hospital at 8:30, as recommended, in order to have time to register before my 9am appointment. Registration was the smoothest part of the morning.

I was taken back to the mammogram room right on time, accompanied by my husband. Unlike the last time, the technician I had this time refused to allow Don to remain in the room while she took the pictures. She sent him to the waiting room and took two different images. When she indicated that she was finished, I asked if she needed some magnified ones, since I knew they'd needed them the last time.

"No," she replied, "this is what is on the orders from your doctor. But wait here and if the radiologist needs more pictures, I'll be back to take them."

Shortly thereafter, she returned to the room and informed me that the doctor was not at the hospital but she'd called him and he was going to come in to read my results. While I waited, another woman with a scheduled appointment had arrived and the technician asked me to wait in a changing room so that she could keep the other woman's appointment. She also requested that I remain "dressed" in the hospital gown as a shirt so that, if the doctor wanted more pictures, it would be easier for her. I agreed and asked her to find Don so that he could keep me company.

We ended up spending an hour and a half in that changing room! The radiologist who, according to the technician, lives 'right next door' to the hospital arrived over an hour after she called him. As if that wasn't enough, when he finally looked at my pictures, he wanted magnified ones. Back to the mammogram room I went, after waiting another twenty minutes for them to clear it for me. The new pictures were taken and I waited some more while the doctor looked at the test results.

Finally, the doctor came and got me. He took Don and me to his office and gave us the good news.

It was a long morning, with too much waiting. It might have gotten very frustrating, but the hospital staff maintained contact with us and kept us aware of what caused the delays. My only real annoyance was this: My appointment had been scheduled three months ago. The radiologist knew--or should have known--that he would need to be there for it. Why wasn't he? (It's a rhetorical question!)

In the end, the technician gave us tickets for a complimentary lunch at the hospital cafeteria before we left. (I think she felt sorry for us.) I also took a moment to let both of the technicians know that they've been gifted with a kind and gentle 'bedside manner,' which I deeply appreciate.

In the midst of an anxious time, I was gifted with care and concern from women who didn't have to act so faithfully. Praise God for that!

Mammogram

2011-04-14T19:35:00.000-04:00

This post, and this one, give some background. Summary: My routine mammogram in January showed some micro-calcifications. Tomorrow's my three-month follow-up.

Prayers appreciated.

Choices

2011-04-06T08:41:00.000-04:00

Almost ten years ago, I was diagnosed with Impaired Glucose Tolerance, a condition also recognized as prediabetes. It means that my fasting blood sugar levels tend to run higher than normal, but not quite high enough for a Type 2 diabetes diagnosis. My mother, father, and both siblings were diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes before they were 40 years old. I am now 43 and an holding steady in the IGT range, based on last week's blood tests.

Why am I the lucky one?

I'm not, really. I am, however, the only one to have followed (most of) the recommendations of my doctor. First, I met with a nutritionist and have followed (again, most of) her advice. With the exception of potatoes, I rarely eat anything white. (I don't like sweet potatoes, no matter how they're cooked!) We buy only whole grain bread, brown rice, and whole wheat pasta. Even the crackers I keep on hand are made with whole grains. (Brown rice was probably our biggest adjustment; it definitely has a different taste and texture than white rice. Still, we did make the adjustment.)

I don't have a huge sweet tooth, so I don't tend to over-indulge in candy, cookies, cakes and the like. My biggest carbohydrate weakness is french fries and, while I don't eat them every day, I do eat them on occasion. I also dropped the minimum of twenty pounds recommended by the doctor, and have maintained the loss. I'd like to take more off, but my foot pain prevents many forms of exercise, making weight loss even more difficult than it is otherwise!

I am not perfect at following the recommendations. I have, however, made much more of a concerted effort than other family members and it seems to be paying off. Doctors consistently tell me that it is unlikely that I will avoid a Type 2 Diabetes diagnosis eventually. That may be true, but I'm going to continue to work hard at delaying that! I'm pretty dang proud of what I've managed to accomplish!

Jason's Letter to the Easter Bunny

2011-03-28T18:11:00.002-04:00

Click to enlarge.

Translation:

Der Estr Bune, (Dear Easter Bunny)

Ples bring a Plowe Pet. (Please bring a Pillow Pet.)

Fum, (From)
Jason LastName

Note: This is a kindergartner!

The Easter Bunny

2011-03-28T09:55:00.001-04:00

Jason's biggest desire in life is a Pillow Pet. "I want the puppy one, Mommy," he reminds me every time we pass them in a store display.

I'm a mother who feels no guilt at telling him, "No," a million times during a routine shopping trip. Still, we've never left the grocery store without buying some things that really are just for Jason. Seriously, fruit snacks aren't intended for adult consumption, are they? (For the record, I bear no illusions. Any food product whose first two ingredients are corn syrup and sugar are not, in my book, "fruit." They are, however, okay as an occasional sweet snack.) There are other items, as well, including some real fruit--bananas--which are purchased just for Jason.

I just don't feel compelled to buy some sort of toy for my son every time we enter a store--not even as a behavioral reward. His "reward" comes in the form of, "It's fun to take you to the grocery store. You're a great helper," praise received when he's picked an item off the shelf and deposited it in my cart. It works for us.

Still, the Pillow Pet, prominently displayed on every trip to Walmart, is an oft-requested item.

Finally, I told him he needs to ask the Easter Bunny for one. (Note: In our house, the Bunny doesn't bring candy, because Jason doesn't eat much of it.) I told him that we could write the Easter Bunny a letter, since he doesn't make a stop in any nearby mall or shopping center, the way he did when I was small.

"You always get a stuffed animal in your Easter basket," I reminded him.

In response, Jason asked, "Is the Easter Bunny a puppet?"

I responded by telling him that the one we'll see when our town hosts the annual Easter Egg hunt is a person dressed like the Easter Bunny. I even showed him pictures from previous egg hunts. So far, he hasn't asked further. I suspect that it's because he doesn't really want to know the truth, but I can't help but wonder!

A Tent

2011-03-26T14:18:00.000-04:00

It's March and the sun is shining. Temperatures, though, hover around freezing so we're indoors today. Not long ago, Don and I were reminiscing about the days when we'd use dining room chairs and a sheet to build a tent, in which we'd spend hours entertaining ourselves.

Today, Jason asked if he could build his own tent. I helped him to do so and, carrying on the tradition, he has spent the better part of the day in it!

I'm having a grand time listening to him as he plays in there.

Mitzi

2011-03-25T14:51:00.000-04:00

Here she is........

A Dog!

2011-03-24T10:57:00.000-04:00

I haven't uploaded a pic yet, but on Monday we brought a dog home from our local animal shelter. Her name is Tori but, when we're allowed to finalize her adoption, we'll re-name her Mitzi. (Jason chose the name because it rhymes with Kitsey.)

She's a terrier mix; she stands about 15 inches tall and weighs around 18 pounds, making her about the same size as our Marble (pictured here). So far, she's proving to be well-behaved and we're enjoying her personality. She's not quite as laid-back as Marble, who spent entire days doing nothing but lying in bed, but does have an easygoing temperament.

She followed us around for her first two days at home. Yesterday, she kept an eye on all of us, but didn't follow quite as often.

She has a pallet on the first floor and, when she decided to sleep in our bedroom for her first night, we made another one there. She was quite content. She spent her second night sleeping on her first-floor pallet. Last night, though, Jason wanted her in his room. She started out on a pallet in the corner but, when Don went to look for her a couple hours after Jason was tucked into bed, Tori/Mitzi was snuggled in bed right alongside my son, both sleeping soundly.

There are some in our area who do not like our animal shelter's policy of requiring 10 days of "foster care" before finalizing an adoption. I've come to appreciate it. We brought home another dog back in December. She kept chewing Jason's shoes, a big concern to me, since she was over two years old--far beyond the puppy chewing stage--and I was afraid that we would not be able to change that behavior. She was also very attention-seeking, something that really bothered me when it was time for Jason's homework, bath, etc. And she preferred my furniture over her own beds. We liked the dog, for the most part. But these issues combined to encourage us to return her to the shelter. (They're a no-kill shelter, except in extreme circumstances, and we knew she'd find the family that was right for her. She has since been adopted and her family is delighted with her.)

Tori/Mitzi, so far, seems to be a much better fit for our family. At this point, it's looking like we'll keep her.

Proud Mommy Moment

2011-03-13T17:11:00.001-04:00

I gave Jason the directions, "Write 'my family' and draw a picture of us." The above is the result.

I'm impressed with his invented spelling of "famlee." His people are still primitive and his word spacing is awkward (the latter is true for most of his classmates, as well), but his letter formation is showing much improvement!

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: All About Cars!

2011-03-11T17:26:00.000-05:00

Singing Owl provokes memories with these words: Maybe it's just me, but I often remember how long ago someting occured or something about it by recalling the car we had at the time. For today's Friday Five, tell us about the cars in your life. Maybe we can even tempt some of the guys of the ring to join us. Specifically, tell us about:

1. The earliest recollection you have of a family car
My father had a Chevy Nova back in the early- to mid-70s, when I was a little girl. One night, he left the window down and the neighbor's cat got into the car. Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that the car stank to high heaven for the rest of the time he owned it!

2. The first car you drove when you could (legally) get behind the wheel yourself.
I didn't get my license until I bought my first car. It was a 1979 Ford Fairmont Futura, dark brown. (Photo Credit) It was 7 years old when I bought it, and had less than 10,000 miles on it. Last I knew that thing was still running!

3. A memorable road trip
Too many to count! Our most recent road trip was the drive home from our vacation in Florida, during which Jason was a great traveler. My favorite is probably our honeymoon, also a trip to Florida. I'd say the most memorable, though, was the first trip Don and I took together--our very first trip to Florida. (We go there a lot, to visit my family and friends "back home.") We were newly engaged and on Spring Break from seminary classes. We left Gettysburg, PA around 7 am and pulled into Lady Lake, FL around 9 pm, with me driving the entire time! (For the record, I'm a bit lighter on the gas pedal nowadays!)

4. The car you drive now. Love it? Hate it?
2007 Kia Sedona and 2011 Kia Soul......both of which I like, for different reasons. The Sedona, a van, gives us plenty of room to tote cargo--and teenagers--when needed. The Soul is cute and gets decent mileage. Don and I find it amusing that Jason identifies both vehicles a "mine," largely because I was the primary driver of the van when it was new and the same is true for the Soul.

5. An interesting story that involves you and a vehicle. (No, I do not have a dirty mind!)
I don't have a dirty mind either, but I do have fond memories of the very roomy backseat of my first boyfriend's Ford Fairlane! And that's all I have to say about that! LOL

Affirmation Feels Good!

2011-03-10T11:59:00.000-05:00

My congregation's Ash Wednesday services are shared with the other two ELCA congregations in town. I preached at both of them.

Following the second service, my colleague who is the interim pastor of the host congregation pulled me aside to say, "You did a nice job tonight. Preaching motivation is very difficult because you never really know what motivates someone else. You handled it very well."

Given how much I hate preaching to colleagues (largely because I know how hyper-critical some pastors can be), it felt good to be affirmed.

********
In other news, here's my Facebook status from this morning: Jason's response to seeing my ashes yesterday was an excited exclamation, "They found your cross!" (He often asks why he can't see his baptismal cross.)

I'm becoming more and more convinced that my son's an up-and-coming theologian!

Ash Wednesday Sermon

2011-03-06T14:13:00.000-05:00

This may still get a bit of tweaking before it's preached, but since I've finally finished the draft, I'm publishing it!

*****

Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I graduated from college with a degree in elementary education and spent seven years teaching before beginning seminary. My favorite grade was kindergarten, but I also taught preschool and first grade. All three groups of children have something in common: Their choices and behavior are heavily motivated by their desire for approval from the adults around them.

During my last year teaching kindergarten, I had twenty-five students in my class. It was the largest and, thanks to the variety of personalities included, rowdiest class I’d had. Still, no matter how active, loud and distracted they might be, all it took to gain their attention and lasso their behavior was something like, “I really like how quietly Brandi is sitting as she waits for me to begin,” or, “Timmy, you did a great job hanging your backpack in your cubby and going to your seat!”

No matter who was named, the entire class’s behavior changed as each child sought to be the next one I named with approval and praise.

Today, as the mother of a five-year-old, I see the same response in him. “I like it when you put your blocks away the first time I ask you,” prompts him to respond equally quickly the next time I ask.

There is, however, a challenge in this method of discipline.

“Mrs. H,” I’d hear, “I put my backpack in my cubby!” Or, “I’m sitting quietly, too!” Or, at home with Jason, “Mommy, I put my cup in the sink the first time you asked!”

Do you see what’s behind those questions? Some children begin to seek approval and attention for every positive action that they perform. The risk in this form of discipline, then, is that children can become motivated to behave appropriately only when they receive affirming words. If they know that they will not be ‘caught’ doing something good, they may have no motivation for doing it and may fall into negative behavior patterns instead.

The other possibility, though, is this: Those children who have been given approval for proper choices may feel better about themselves and, in response, make healthy choices on a regular basis—whether or not they receive overt approval for it. The motivation for their behavior comes from within themselves and they make choices accordingly.

The same is true, on a somewhat different level for adults. If we’re honest, we’re not all that different from my kindergarten students. We like to be recognized for doing good things. I suspect I am not the only individual who finds myself more apt to give additional support to an organization that has acknowledged a previous gift, either publicly or privately, than to one which ignores a gift I’ve given. Whether that gift comes in the form of services to a Christian ministry, such as packing boxes for the food pantry, or as a cash gift to a secular organization, it makes me feel good to have my contribution recognized.

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” So begins the Gospel lesson appointed for Ash Wednesday.

When our motivation for service is pure, we do not seek human attention or approval for it. Please notice that Jesus does not say that it’s wrong for others to see—or even to approve of—our acts of faith. Honestly, our pious and faithful acts are often how we share our Savior’s love with others. It is, however, inappropriate for us to use the recognition and approval of others as our motivation for our action.

The truth, though, is this: As difficult as it may be for us to admit it, this is easier said than done. No matter how deeply pious and faithful we are, it is human nature to seek attention and approval from others.

So there we sit…..faithfully serving fellow human beings in their time of need, and embodying the love of our savior as we do so. At the same time, the sin that is so deeply embedded in our nature provides at least part of our motivation and threatens to make us, on some level, hypocritical. Oh, most of us don’t “sound a trumpet” before ourselves in order to gain attention for our ministry; at the same time, we do put some value on the opinions of our fellow human beings!

Our very humanity makes today’s Gospel lesson difficult. Just as children are motivated by the praise and affirmation from the adults who surround them, so are we adults often motivated by the praise and affirmation we receive from our peers….probably much more often than we’d care to admit.

And it’s Ash Wednesday, the day when we make the longest, and most difficult confession of the church year. So here we are, sitting beside one another in Jesus’ church, burdened—perhaps even overwhelmed—by the knowledge that even our very nature is sinful. And isn’t that part of the reason for the ashes? Don’t they serve as yet another reminder of the darkness of sin that is so abundant in us?

But those ashes are not just a reminder of sin. That ashen cross traces the one that was placed on your forehead when you were baptized. And that cross marks you as having been baptized into the life, death and resurrection of our Lord. This is hope for us.

At the same time, it’s a cross and, as such, a reminder that hope doesn’t come easily and without cost. The truth is that hope comes to humanity at great cost. God chose to become human. From the very moment of his conception, Jesus journeyed fully as a human being. Unlike you and I, though, Jesus also journeyed fully as God.

Although you and I often find our motivation polluted by our humanity, Jesus’ divine identity allowed our Lord to maintain pure motivation in his ministry. Jesus’ sole motivation in carrying the cross was his embodiment of God’s love for us.

Because God loves us, Jesus was born. Because God loves us, Jesus was nailed to a cross. Because God loves us, Jesus was raised from the grave. This is Good News for Ash Wednesday—and for all of our Lenten journey. Amen.

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Words

2011-02-18T05:33:00.000-05:00

This week's invitation comes from Jan: For this Friday Five, please list five words that identify your passions, spirituality, and/or life. Describe as much or as little as you wish.

1--Family: I have a wonderful husband and a bright, active little boy. Life is good!

2--Faith: I get to tell people about Jesus' saving love all.the.time! Sure, it can be challenging. It's also a joy!

3--Friends: Although I'm a natural extrovert, my support network of close friends isn't huge. They do, however, make my journey much easier to handle.

4--Cooking: This is where my creativity is put to use most often.

5--Teaching: One of my strongest spiritual gifts, it gets put to use both at church and everywhere else. I derive great joy from seeing another grow in faith.

Artwork!

2011-02-14T09:17:00.001-05:00

Jason drew this picture today. It's our cat and a sign telling her to Keep Out of our kitchen. He didn't have time to do it before leaving for school, but he will tape it to the kitchen door.

I helped him spell "out" but he did "Ceep" all on his own. His C is reversed, but he knows the phonics rule about long vowels needing a 'helper,' like a silent e. I'm surprised he didn't spell it "cepe," since that's the way he most often encounters it in his reading.

Even the cat picture is a step above where he was as recently as a few weeks ago. It has all four feet (with claws!), a body, and a head (with a face, albeit awkwardly drawn). She IS missing her tail, though!

Annual Congregational Meeting

2011-02-13T14:35:00.003-05:00

I never cease to be amazed at the lack of questions and conversation at our meetings. I realize that this is my first pastoral call, and that I’m a fairly new Lutheran. Still, I’ve been an active participant in six other ELCA congregations, all of which had vibrant, busy Annual Meetings.

I’m not sure if it’s apathy or a sense of being overwhelmed by ministry needs. Honestly, I suspect it’s a mixture of both.

At our last Cluster Meeting, our bishop presented five options for shared ministry within the cluster. I shared these options with the congregation this afternoon, and opened up the floor for questions, comments, concerns and conversation. It was greeted with dead silence.

At that point, I explained that the options are only effective if all eight congregations agree to participate. I also shared my knowledge that at least three are hesitant and/or openly admitting reluctance to do so. If any of the congregations withdraws, none of the options in front of us are valid, and we’d be back at the drawing board.

I was still not asked questions, nor were any comments made. This, I believe, is an area where the congregation members are largely feeling apathetic. Based on conversations I’ve had outside the meeting, I sense that many members feel that, once the bishop gets the ball rolling, they will have little or no control over what happens. No matter how often they are reminded (by the bishop as well as myself) that the congregation will be required to vote on any shared ministry agreement, many people seem to believe that, since we will not be able to sustain ourselves financially in the long-term, the path of least resistance is to simply stay quiet and allow the change to happen.

It will be interesting to see how this plays out in the coming months.

In other news, Treasurer is angry as is the person who was council president. It is our tradition to hold a short council meeting immediately after the congregational meeting, in order to elect officers. Secretary was elected easily. Vice-president and president were not. Suffice it to say that I was the tie-breaking vote, leaving Treasurer and outgoing President (now VP) angry. (Ballots were written so, theoretically, no one knows how we voted. Still, I’m not naïve enough to believe that people don’t figure it out.) New President is, in my opinion, the healthiest choice for the congregation right now. She has a vision for ministry far beyond the walls of our congregation and will give voice to that vision. It will serve us well.

Still, it’s going to be a rough few months of transition.

C-C-C-Cold!

2011-02-10T08:56:00.004-05:00

The temperature was -15 degrees Fahrenheit (-26 C) when we left the house.

"Mommy," complained Jason, "My boogers are freezing!"

You know what? It sure as heck felt the same way to me!

Gotta love the fact that kids will actually give voice to that thought, though!

I am Loved

2011-02-09T09:55:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday, Granny picked Jason up from school, because my biopsy had been canceled and I hadn't been able to reach her to let her know that we were home.

When they arrived at our house, I was standing on the front porch to greet them.

My beloved son responded by saying, "Mommy, I want you to leave now. I want to play with Granny!"

Matthew 5:21-37--Early Ponderings

2011-02-07T11:38:00.000-05:00

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell. “It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

As I began exegetical work this week, this is the first comment that jumped out at me. It's from Amy Oden over at workingpreacher.org. Perhaps one of the most radical aspects of Jesus' extension of the law here is his internalization of it, so that not only behaviors, but attitudes and emotions fall within its scope. Of course, this is not new to Jewish thinking. Throughout Hebrew Scriptures, the law is to be taken to heart and not only outwardly observed (see previous weeks' passages: Isaiah 58, Micah 6). Jesus connects the dots for his listeners from outward acts to internal orientation, from murder to anger, from adultery to lust. It is one thing to behave rightly. It is another thing entirely for one's heart to be oriented toward love. Just as it is easier to make a sacrifice at the temple than it is to do justice (Micah 6), so it is easier to keep the commandment against murder than it is to avoid anger in one's heart.

I am Lutheran. To my very core, my theological understanding is Lutheran. Every week, in my preaching and my teaching I remind my parishioners that we are sinful by nature and not by action. I believe that most of my parishioners have an intellectual understanding of this theology, as I do. At the same time, I believe that many of them, also like me, prefer not to acknowledge the depth of that truth. It does, after all, force us to acknowledge that we have no control over our salvation!

We're surrounded by a culture that actually supports some of the very behaviors that Jesus condemns. Holding onto anger is sinful, according to this lesson. How often, though, do we find ourselves, when angry, voicing that emotion with others? It is not uncommon for close friends to affirm--and even encourage--anger. Rather than assist someone in moving toward forgiveness, we're tempted to join their anger and, in the course of it, insult fellow Christians. Our culture often uses anger and insults as a form of humor, too, as evidenced by many popular television situation comedies. I suspect it's not unique to American culture.

It is, however, in opposition to what Jesus teaches. Holding onto anger and insulting a sister or brother in the Gospel makes one liable to the council and, ultimately, "to the hell of fire." Our Savior encourages us to be reconciled to one another.

Still, it is deeply embedded in human nature to seek justification for ourselves. We tell ourselves that, no matter how hurtful our words may be to another, we haven't really done anything wrong since we haven't physically hurt them. How many of us grew up hearing the refrain, "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me?" I don't know any adult who really, truly believes that adage! Words do hurt! Sometimes angry words hurt more than physical punishment. Jesus' words are an important reminder of that. And our words do not simply hurt the other, they hurt us.

Even beyond the spoken word, though, Jesus reminds us that the unbidden thoughts of our minds are sinful. One need not violate physical boundaries by actually having sex outside of marriage. The simple act of looking lustfully at another makes one an adulterer.

I am a divorced woman. I chose to end my first marriage because of escalating anger and abuse, which left me living in fear. I also chose to remarry. Although Don and I often joke with one another about our status as adulterers because of my divorce, neither of us has ever taken Jesus' teaching lightly. I have more than a few parishioners whose lives have been touched by divorce--either their own or that of a beloved friend or family member. Jesus' words about divorce are painful to hear. Every time I encounter them, I am reminded of my sinful nature.

You see, that is what's important to me in this. Humans will never escape sin, and divorce is a consequence of sin. These words humble me in the knowledge that I have no claim to self-righteousness, no matter what the reason behind my choice to divorce.

None of us, as Jesus so aptly points out in this lesson, have any claim to self-righteousness. Rather, we are always and only completely dependent upon our Savior.

The Good News in that is that God chose to come to earth because humanity had no hope of saving ourselves. Jesus carried the cross and, in doing so, took our sin to death with him. When God raised the Savior from the grave, we who live in the darkness of human sin were given the gifts of grace and love, as well as hope for eternity.

These are my (very early) thoughts about preaching this text. The sermon will, by the time it's written, be about God's goodness, grace and love in the midst of human sin!

Biopsy Update

2011-02-06T17:04:00.000-05:00

I got to the hospital and, shortly thereafter, was taken in for set-up. There, the technician told me to remove the top half of my clothing and put on a hospital gown. After that, I climbed up on a table with a hole in it and lay down with my breast dangling through the hole. (I know; it's a lovely image, isn't it?)

The technician (whose hands felt like they'd been in a freezer) spent about twenty minutes maneuvering my body part, attempting to get it into a position that allowed the doctor to place the needle in such a way that it wouldn't go all the way through my breast (OUCH!) and hurt both me and the machine. Sadly, none of the positions she tried worked.

She called in a second technician, whose hands were equally cold. At that point, both women worked together to position me but had no more luck than before. Apparently, the micro-calcifications are located in a spot that makes them difficult to be centered in the machine for imaging and, since the doctor follows the image to place the needle properly, positioning is vital for a needle biopsy.

In the end, the women called in the doctor for a consultation and I learned that they were unable to perform the biopsy. The doctor, who only ordered the biopsy "to be cautious" advised me to return for another mammogram (with extra images) in three months. At that point, if there is any change in the spots, I will be referred for a surgical biopsy. If they're stable, I will have to return for another follow-up mammogram in three more months, at which point, if all continues to be stable, I'll be released back to annual mammograms.

I also have the option of scheduling a surgical biopsy.

Technicians told me that the doctor, who is known for caution, would have recommended an immediate surgical procedure if he felt that it was warranted. Both of them said that, in my place, they'd heed his recommendation for the mammogram follow-ups.

I heard them. Really, I did. Still, I've seen too many women struggle with--and ultimately be defeated by--breast cancer to take it lightly.

Bottom line: I'm still scared. And now I'm confused, too.

Second Opinion

2011-02-03T07:43:00.000-05:00

See the pic? That's my son with a patch over his left eye. Dr. S, after a very thorough exam, announced that Jason is not, in fact, legally blind in his right eye. He has 20/100 vision in that eye; it's different enough from the other eye that it warrants treatment with the patch to strengthen it, but not legally blind.

We also learned that Dr. K, the local optometrist, had written an extremely inaccurate prescription for new glasses. And we sat in Dr. S' office while he dictated a letter which will be sent to both our Dr, K's office and our pediatrician, detailing the misinformation we'd been given.

Dr. K had also given me a pamphlet about amblyopia. It was copyrighted in 1984, making it twenty-seven years old! I'm not a doctor; still, I know that, when it comes to medical information, that's pretty outdated. Dr. S pointed out the fact that even that outdated information notes that amblyopia is treatable up to age seven. He added that current information and his own experience has shown that it can be treated with some level of success up to approximately age 13.

"Even if you believe the information that Dr. K gave you," he said, "It says that age seven is the limit. Your son is five! FIVE!" He was visibly outraged.

So we're patching Jason's eye for two hours daily. We've ordered his new (and accurately prescribed) glasses. And we're returning for a follow-up with Dr. S in April.

In the meantime, we're also changing optometrists for ourselves, since we have no desire to return to the practice where our son was so badly misdiagnosed.

Is It Ever Going To End?

2011-01-27T11:10:00.000-05:00

I took Jason to the eye doctor yesterday. He had his annual exam scheduled for March but, after failing the school's screening, we thought it best to go sooner.

Turns out that he's got amblyopia and is legally blind in his right eye. According to the doctor, it's likely that his right eye was weaker from birth and the left eye 'took over,' allowing the right eye to relax and, in the process, destroy whatever vision Jason may have once had in that eye. Since he doesn't have the classic cross-eyed look of a kid with "lazy-eye," no one noticed. Even the pediatric ophthalmologist who checked Jason's vision at 20 months old didn't catch it because, at that age, children aren't quite capable of telling us that they can't see with one eye and, since the eye is physically healthy, it's not visible to the doctor. Now, at five-and-a-half years old, Jason is very clear in saying that, with his left eye covered, "the letters are too small" for him to see.

Interestingly enough, LAST year's eye exam didn't give us this diagnosis, even though Jason was able to tell the doctor that he couldn't see the letters and shapes on the chart. Dr. C (from the same practice we took him to yesterday) recorded that Jason had 20/80 vision in his poor eye. Yesterday's exam with Dr. K showed 20/200 and he is certain that last year's exam was inaccurate. Given the research I've done, I think he's probably right.

I'm angry, however, over the fact that Dr. K informed me that there's nothing that can be done for it. We just have to 'deal with' the news and accept our new reality. Research tells me otherwise. (And even if it's true that it's our new reality, some kindness and gentleness in giving me that news would be appreciated.)

We now have an appointment with the same pediatric ophthalmologist we saw when Jason was an infant. His office has assured me that something can be done and that they've seen "a great deal of improvement in the vision of children, even as old as 11, 12 and 13 years old." They were very reassuring and I felt much calmer after making that call.

Unfortunately, the earliest appointment they have is in April, so we wait.

In the meantime, we're also going to find a new optometrist for our family. Jason will, I'm sure, not need one for awhile; Dr. Sala will care for him well. Don and I, however, will not return to that practice. You see, upon getting their bill for Don's appointment, we discovered that Don has been diagnosed with glaucoma. Yes, you read that right. We learned that from the bill, not from the doctor. The doctor told us that Don has "some warning signs" which merited extra testing but did not, at any time during the appointment, give us that diagnosis....despite my repeated requests to understand all of the testing that Don underwent. Here's hoping we can find someone in whom we can have confidence.

Some Words are Scary

2011-01-19T09:44:00.000-05:00

Biopsy is one of them.

Last Friday, I went to the hospital for a routine mammogram. Because the radiologist was not on-site, the technician had been assigned to look at the results and, if necessary, take additional films. I was completely non-anxious and unconcerned; this was my fourth mammogram and there had been no issues in the past.

She returned with news. There are some new micro-calcifications in my right breast. Magnified four hundred times, the four spots are very tiny--each is about the size of a grain of sand or two. Technician told me, "Four is not bad news. Five or more is when we get concerned." She also assured me that their regularity of shape makes them less frightening than they might otherwise be. Still, she needed to take some additional pictures.

When she finished, Technician promised that I would hear from her this week, after the radiologist had a chance to look over my tests. She also told me that her 'best guess' was that Radiologist would recommend a repeat mammogram in six months, given the size, shape and number of spots, reminding me as she did so, "I am not the doctor. He may have different recommendations."

Technician's call came yesterday morning, as I sat in my study at the church. Radiologist is "being cautious" and wants me to have a biopsy.

I lost an aunt to breast cancer. I also lost one of the best friends I've ever had to the same disease.

I know that eighty percent of micro-calcifications are benign. Still, I'm worried.

A Conversation with Jason

2011-01-10T18:33:00.001-05:00

"Mommy, you're being MEAN," shouted my son.

"Sorry, Punkin, but being mean is just part of a mommy's job sometimes," I replied.

"Well, you're being TOO GOOD at your JOB!"

I don't even remember what exactly I was 'being mean' about, but this exchange sure is memorable!

Christmas in the Hospital

2010-12-27T14:38:00.000-05:00

When I got home from church on Christmas Eve, I put Jason to bed, did "the Santa thing," and sat down to relax while Don headed off to his second service.

Shortly after I sat down, nausea hit and I realized that my heart was racing. At first, I wasn't terribly concerned; I attributed it to leftover adrenaline from worship and stretched on the sofa to watch television. I napped until Don came home and then went upstairs to bed, all with my heart still racing.

The nausea and racing heart did not subside and, since I am aware that both can be signs of a heart attack in women, I finally asked Don to take me to the emergency room. (Praise God for the faithful neighbor who came and sat in our home with Jason!)

We arrived at the ER around 1:30 am, and I was quickly attached to an EKG, heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and an IV. By 4:00, I'd been admitted and that's where I spent Christmas Day.

It was, you won't be surprised to learn, painful to be separated from my son on the sacred day. Bless him, though! At Don's suggestion, Jason agreed not to open most of his gifts until I was home. (Seriously! What five-year-old kid will do that?) He did get to open his Legos and two other gifts, which was enough to keep him occupied, it seems.

The good news is that all of the information showed that it "was not a cardiac event" according to the doctor. All of the symptoms I experienced were a result of having taken prednisone for my stupid feet! I'd actually finished the last round of it ten days earlier! No matter, said the doctor, predinsone can take that long to exit the system. By the time I was discharged, about noon yesterday, all of my blood work had returned to normal, as was my blood pressure, heart rate, etc.

We celebrated Christmas yesterday, including all gift-opening, Christmas dinner, and relaxation together as a family. All-in-all, it turned out to be a good day to celebrate!

Today, other than a bit of a cold (picked up, perhaps, from the nurse who coughed, sniffled and sneezed every time she took my vitals), I'm feeling fine.

Christmas Eve

2010-12-26T19:44:00.000-05:00

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it." (John 1:5)

I stood at the front of the sanctuary on Christmas Eve, watched the candlelight move from the Christ candle on back, passed as each individual worshiper lit their candles. It is always a beautiful sight. This year, I was moved to tears as we sang "Silent Night."

Light shines amid darkness, something I desperately needed to remember this year. Christmas Eve began with Jason crawling into bed with Don and me for snuggle time. We always talk while we snuggle. For some reason, Jason's thoughts turned to his grandfathers, neither of whom is alive. My father has been dead for more than a decade; Don lost his father nearly a quarter-century ago. Still, Jason's questions bring sadness to us both as we realize anew that Jason will not get to meet these men, who would have loved him dearly, until we finally gather with the Lord. In the darkness of grief, Christ's light shines.

This has also been a challenging year for our congregation and ministry. Every suggestion for outreach has been refused. Few people take the time to attend fellowship events--even when those events are held immediately following Sunday-morning worship. It keeps getting more and more challenging to find men and women who are willing to serve the Lord--and our children--by teaching Sunday School, chaperoning youth events, etc. Then there's the whole dearth of healthy leadership in the congregation.

On Christmas Eve, as I saw each of my sisters and brothers in Christ holding a candle, I was reminded that even in the face of human shortcoming and sin, God is with us! The Incarnate Lord, Immanuel, entered our world not because the world was worthy and ready, but in order to bring light into the darkness of human sin. That light,so often difficult to see because we are blinded by our sin, shone abundantly in our worship space on Friday evening. Times like that make me grateful to be a pastor.

I've often blogged about the challenges of the congregation I serve. Honestly, though, for all that I might grumble, I have been deeply thankful to God for sending my family here.

So That's What's Wrong With The World

2010-12-21T17:48:00.000-05:00

At last night's congregational council meeting, I shared some of what I learned at our recent Youth Gathering. The challenges our teenagers face are far greater--and far more dangerous--than those faced by my own generation. That makes them, of course, beyond the comprehension of most of the seventy-somethings who serve as council members.

Even the ones who have teenage grandchildren were stunned as they learned that every teenager who participated in my workshop knew exactly where to go to obtain illegal drugs in their communities. This includes teenagers from our own community. Even more shocking was the revelation that three girls from one high school confessed to knowing that there was a sixteen-year-old girl in their school who admits to having had four (yes, FOUR!) abortions. I shared the news that, when asked, the teens said that their acquaintance was not bragging about her actions. At the same time, none of them saw any remorse in her, and all were horrified by her behavior.

In the midst of the ensuing discussion, much of which was somewhat productive as we brainstormed ways that the Church (capital C intentional) can provide loving support for our young people, Treasurer announced, "I hate to say it, but I know what the problem is. Mothers need to be at home for their children."

This, as she sat across the table from the working-mother pastor (me, of course) and two other women who work or, in the case of another woman at the table, worked full-time even as we parent. My own son is, perhaps, too young to use as a model. The children of the other two women, on the other hand, are all young adults. All four of them remain actively involved in the Church, three of them within our own congregation; the fourth lives several hours away but participates fully in her own congregation's life. None of them has ever been in serious trouble.

I have no idea how the other women felt about Treasurer's comment. Neither of them answered her, nor did they speak to me after the meeting. I only know that I found it offensive. When I was expecting Jason, Don and I spent countless hours pondering how to manage parenting. In my younger years, I'd always dreamed of being a stay-at-home-mom. We were in a financial position that it would have been possible for me to do so. At thirty-seven years old, having spent twenty years of my life working full-time, however, I wasn't as sure about staying home.

Obviously, you know the decision we made. I have not regretted it. God blessed us with a wonderful babysitter, who provided loving one-on-one care for Jason. She gave him with a great deal of appropriate, educational stimulation, as evidenced by his extremely high academic abilities. She also played with him in such a way as to stimulate his imagination, thereby fostering skills which will serve him well as he continues in school.

I have, however, occasionally wondered if my decision was selfish. My income allows us to enjoy a much more comfortable lifestyle than we would have otherwise. Without it, we would still be driving aging vehicles, accompanied by all of the maintenance and safety issues that comes with their aging. Vacations would be much less frequent and/or much more sparse. Even trips to visit family would have to happen much less frequently, given the distance that separates us. Still, we would make ends meet on only one income.

Treasurer, I am sure, is not the only person in the world who believes that we working mothers are the cause of all that is wrong in the world. As much as I believe that they are dead wrong, her words stung. Every (or, at least, almost every) family makes the best decision that can be made for their children!

One More Step...

2010-12-20T15:20:00.000-05:00

After supper yesterday, Jason asked us if he could stop using his booster seat. He's five (and a half) years old and certainly mature enough to sit at the table. At the same time, he's very small for his age so he's been using the seat to raise himself high enough to eat comfortably. At school, he sits at the cafeteria tables without a problem. Most of the time, he does the same at restaurants.

In fact, not long after we returned from our September vacation, I'd removed the booster for cleaning. At the time, I asked Jason, "Do you want me to put this back on the chair?"

His first answer was that he wanted to get rid of the booster. When it came time for the next meal, however, he changed his mind. "Mommy, I think I need the booster to make me taller," he told me, and it was strapped back onto his chair.

I wasn't sure what to expect at breakfast today. Would he be okay without the booster? Or would he ask for it?

When he simply sat down in the chair and ate his pancakes, announcing, "Mommy, I'm a really, really big boy! I don't need my booster," I became teary.

He's growing more quickly than I'd like.

Sometimes I Get Discouraged

2010-12-14T17:28:00.001-05:00

Today, I received an e-mail from the son of a woman whose funeral I celebrated a few weeks ago. Among other things, he informed me that, in my homily, I had "redeemed myself, for the post part, from glaring oversights" and named the fact that I had failed to visit with her when she'd been hospitalized as the biggest of them.

That comment was painful for me.

I have a confession to make: Visiting the shut-ins is probably my most neglected pastoral task. I have never, ever ignored a hospitalized patient, though. No matter what else distracts me, I make time to visit with people when they are hospitalized....as long as someone tells me that they are! I had no idea that this man's mother had been hospitalized until after she'd returned home, at which point I did visit with her within a week. I did not visit with her as often as the family might have liked. I understand that. All of my members who are homebound and/or confined to nursing facilities could say the same thing. And frankly, I feel guilty for my lack.

The fact is simply this: My time gets eaten up by a myriad of other responsibilities. Though I have been in ministry for more than seven years, it still takes me 15-20 hours to put together a sermon every week. Some of that is spent in scripture study and research, other is used in prayer and preparation. The actual writing process takes a good chunk, too.

When I was called, the congregation asked me to spend at least twenty hours each week in the church, to be accessible to our members. I have no difficulty complying with that request. Still, many people seem to assume that time is used solely for sermon preparation. Much of it is, but several of those hours are spent on administrative tasks, providing pastoral care for visitors and for groups who use our building (like the quilters, who meet weekly). I also use "office time" to prepare for teaching Sunday School and Bible Study, writing newsletter articles, editing said newsletter after secretary assembles it, maintaining church records, etc. The reality is that my actual time in the office is far greater than the hours posted.

Added to that, I currently serve on the Board of Directors for a local nursing home. Well, relatively local, that is. The Home is actually 35 miles from my church so that the monthly board meeting takes an entire afternoon away from my congregational duties. I also attend weekly collegial cluster meetings, monthly (evening) cluster meetings which include both lay people and our bishop. There are also the congregational committee and council meetings.

All told, that leaves me with (on average) about fifteen hours a month for visitation, if I'm going to keep my work-hours to a reasonable 40-45 hours a week. Oh, I realize that previous generations of pastors routinely worked 50-60 hours each week. That practice was openly described as unhealthy for both pastors and families and was discouraged by more than one of my seminary professors and/or pastoral mentors. I have seen many PK's (Pastor's Kids) grow up and remove themselves from Church life and I cannot help but wonder if their father's model of placing congregational needs above family needs are behind their choice to disengage. (It is my deepest hope that my son does not grow to resent the Church for stealing his parents from him. As many young adults do, he may turn away from the Church for a time, but I would like for him to know the Church as a place of love and return to it with deep faith.)

The person who sent me the e-mail I described above is a PK; his father was of the generation that put family responsibilities far below his congregants' needs. The sender of the email is the only one (of four) of Pastor N's children who remains actively involved in the life of the Church. 'His father is the pastor to whom my congregation looks back as their hero. "Pastor N baptized more than 400 people at St. Paul," is the oft-repeated refrain.

Many of those people would be in their late-forties to late-sixties (as are Pastor N's children) now and, since those generations are largely absent from our congregation, I'm dying to ask the question, "Where are they now?" I have asked it a few times, only to experience folks avoiding any real answer. Based on what I've pieced together, he was good at what his son calls "evangelism," in that he brought people to the font. The congregation, however, was not so good at providing ongoing care for them as they became teenagers, young adults, and young families.

The email went on to express disappointment in our congregation's struggles. There were, according to the message, four hundred people gathered for worship every week back in the 60's and 70's (records show this to be inaccurate; average attendance was 300, still far higher than our current 60 or so). That story is familiar to almost every mainstream Christian church-goer. It is not unique to our congregation. Nor does the blame for it lie solely on my shoulders (or those of the pastor who immediately preceded me) as is stated in the email, when the writer notes that "today's generation of pastors" do not evangelize.

If evangelism is understood as simply bringing people to the baptismal font, then the writer is correct. Simple baptism is not my goal; nor is it the goal of any of my contemporary colleagues. Instead, we work on fostering relationships with people. In doing so, we are following Jesus' command to "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." (Matthew 28:19-20)

Today's generation of pastors has been trained to make disciples before baptizing. We invite people to learn about Jesus (sometimes, in the case of parents seeking the sacrament for their children, relearn about Jesus) before inviting them to make the commitment that is Baptism. During their period of discipleship (study), we encourage them to develop relationships with other Christians, whose faith can strengthen the newly baptized when inevitable struggles arise. Those relationships also serve to continue the teaching process. It is no accident that Jesus' commands us to make disciples (students) before we baptize people. Nor is it accidental that he commands teaching to continue beyond baptism.

It is a longer, more involved process than "the old days." It is also, I believe, faithful to Christ's command. I mean no disrespect to my colleagues. I've conversed with enough of them to have absolutely no doubt that they were faithful to their understanding of their call to ministry. I'm equally certain that, while they may not completely agree with our generation's view, they respect our faithfulness.

Because I struggle with it, and feel guilty for my failure, it did hurt for me to have my lack of visitation named as an oversight. This year, I have made regular visitation my first professional goal and my record has improved. I suspect it will continue to be my biggest challenge in ministry, though. Sometimes, there are simply too many balls to juggle.

I refuse, however, to feel any guilt for a lack of "evangelism." Two of my strongest spiritual gifts are evangelism and hospitality. I have spent countless hours, both formally and informally, working to encourage these gifts within the congregation at large. It's discouraging because, the truth is that no matter how strong a gift is is in me, if the congregation is not also reaching out to the stranger, we're stuck!

Sigh.

Happy Holidays and Santa Claus

2010-12-13T17:27:00.000-05:00

Honestly, I cannot comprehend why a "Happy Holiday" greeting is offensive to Christians! Isn't Christmas a holiday? The greeting may be "generic," but I choose to hear it as a Christmas greeting. After all, the holiday that is honored in my home is Christmas.

My family will attend worship on Christmas Eve. We will receive the blessed gift of Jesus' body and blood. We will enjoy the candlelit singing of "Silent Night." It's one of the most holy days of the year. I see no reason to be bothered by having someone wish that it might be happy for me. (And really, isn't that what "Happy Holiday" really means?)

The next day, we will exchange gifts, some of which will come from Santa. I know. I know. There are Christians who are offended by our participation in "the Santa tradition" (quoted from an acquaintance). Guess what? I see Santa as nothing more than a game of pretend. I do not fear that my son will lose faith in Jesus when he discovers that Santa is nothing but a fantasy (the same acquaintance expressed concern for this).

As the season of Advent began, we placed our wreath on our dining table. We light the candles every time we sit down to dinner as a family. We pray together, honoring the season both as a time of preparation for our celebration of Jesus' birth and as a hope-filled time when we anticipate our Lord's return, his promise to take us with him and the promise of eternity for all who follow him.

At the same time, The Elf on the Shelf visits our home every day. Each night, according to the story, he returns to the North Pole with a report about each member of our family. We all work hard to stay on Santa's nice list, of course. Based on my teaching experience, I'd say that we have only one more year to spend with Santa and the elf. As Jason matures, he will discover that the jolly fellow and his elves are not real.

Jesus, on the other hand, is real. Unlike Santa and the elf, who only visit our family during the Advent/Christmas season, we spend time with Jesus every day of our lives. We pray. We read scripture. We worship. Most importantly, we encounter our living Lord every time we gather at his Table for Communion. That gift, the one that provides us with an opportunity to see, touch and taste Jesus is revered in our home. Nothing Santa provides will ever measure up to that sacred and holy gift!

Santa 2010

2010-12-12T09:13:00.002-05:00

The obligatory Santa picture! This year, Santa was smiling for it, unlike last year.

Jason has only one thing on his wish list, "I would like more Legos and lots of surprises," he cheerfully told the jolly fellow.

I feel very confident that both wishes will be fulfilled.

Jason Went Shopping!

2010-12-09T13:17:00.000-05:00

Jason's school hosted a Santa Shop event. Last week, we were invited to send money and a list of people for whom our children were permitted to shop. Yesterday was Jason's day at the store. He chose a ballpoint pen that says "Dad" on it for Don and a yellow mouse with a bell on its tail for Kitsey. Would you like to know what he chose for Mommy?

Are you sure you want to know?

Yes, friends, that's a ballpoint pen in a lipstick tube, with fake pink rhinestones. "It's your favorite color, Mommy," my beloved son announced excitedly. It is, indeed. And I think it's a perfect gift!

It is also the very first gift he's chosen for me entirely on his own! I'm delighted to put it to use.

Teen Talk: The Naked Truth

2010-11-22T12:11:00.001-05:00

The title of this post is the title of a workshop I led during our synod Youth Gathering, which took place over the weekend. The description was: We will talk about any issue YOU bring to the table, including (but not limited to) sex. This workshop is non-judgmental, casual and confidential. If you choose to attend, you will be expected to agree to keep anything that is discussed to yourself.

It filled almost immediately after sign-ups started. That should have been a sign, I think.

I've been working with teenagers in the Church for more than a decade. During that time, I've often spoken with them about their day-to-day lives and the challenges they face. Still, I was not prepared for all that was brought to the table in our workshop.

We spent only forty-five minutes together and, in that short span of time, we talked about sex, birth control, sexually transmitted diseases (and preventing them), abortion, drugs, alcohol, suicide, self-destructive behavior and parent-teenager relationships.

The conversation was honest. It was also eye-opening. I learned that I knew much less about the challenges of teenagers than I had believed. Every teenager admitted that they knew where to go to obtain illegal drugs in their communities. That alone was a shock to me! I'm not completely naive; I knew that such drugs were available in our rural area. I did not, however, realize that all of our teenagers knew how to get them.

I think I was most blind-sided by much of the conversation about sex/birth control/STD's/abortion, too. The pressure on today's teens to be sexually active is even greater than it was for my own generation. The same is true for the risks. Our school districts provide very little in the way of sex education. The teens all participated in a sixth- or seventh-grade single-class gender-separated sex-education sessions about menstruation (girls) or nocturnal emissions (boys). Since then, they have had no instruction from their schools. Fewer than half of them have had these difficult conversations with their parents.

I am disappointed to learn that parents hesitate to have these conversations with their children. At the same time, I was heartened to learn that almost all of them have pastors and/or other church leaders who approach the topic in Confirmation Instruction (I do it along with the Sixth Commandment) or Sunday School. Obviously, they're getting some support from adults around them. Still, the fact that they do not have open communication with their most influential adults--their parents--is frightening to me.

Their exposure to drugs and alcohol, while not surprising, also makes me anxious. Today's teenagers have much more pressure in this area, too. It also seems that many of them are drinking and/or using drugs in attempt to self-medicate. The teens with whom I talked admitted that their peers need positive adult influences, but that they did not know where to go for non-judgmental help and support.

I can't help but notice this: While the adults in our culture argue about whether or not the schools should be be teaching sex education (with or without abstinence instruction), our children are floundering. And it seems that we are teaching a simple "Say No to Drugs" message in such a hard-nosed way that our young people do not feel safe approaching us about the issue when their friend (or they themselves) are tempted.

I have gained a new gratitude for my own mother's openness. Nothing was off-limits in our home. Sex, drugs, alcohol....you name it, we could talk about it. I hope and pray that my son will be able to do the same with me. And I'm going to work on ensuring that Don is able to talk to Jason about these things, too!

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Unexpected Thanks

2010-11-19T06:03:00.002-05:00

Jan posts these instructions: Name five things that were unexpected in your life that you are now grateful for.

1: My son. When I was twenty-two years old, I was told that it was "highly unlikely" that I would ever conceive a child. It was, of course, heartbreaking news for me. I have always loved children. So, when I conceived Jason at age thirty-six, it was a huge surprise. His entire life, for all it's medical challenges, has brought great joy to my husband and me. I cannot help but be deeply grateful for him.

2. My first marriage and subsequent divorce. The story behind my gratitude is here. I won't re-post it all. Suffice it to say that, though painful, it was a very healthy growing experience for me.

3. Moving to the part of the country where I now reside. Though born in upstate NY, I call central Florida "home." Even when I chose Gettysburg for seminary, I never expected God to call me to this part of the country. Lake-effect snow was never part of my life plan! Nor was six (or more) months of gray skies. Still, this place has been a blessing to our family. The people here have loved us very well and, even though I have my frustrations within my parish, I can count many of the people as blessings to me.

4. My education. Throughout my childhood and teen years, my parents continually reminded me that they were unable to provide us with an education beyond high school. My mother even went so far as to talk with my high school guidance counselor and encourage her to remove me from the college preparatory schedule of classes in which I was enrolled. Thankfully, the counselor refused to do so, reminding my mother that a young woman with my intelligence would likely be eligible for some scholarships to get me started. (I did get some and they were how I got started!) In the end, they compromised by having me take some business-oriented electives (I could "at least be a secretary" with the skills I had, according to my mother.) In the end, I worked full-time for five years at McDonald's and took 4.5 years of part-time school to get my Associates' Degree. By the time I finished that, I'd earned enough money that my parents could no longer claim me as a dependent and I finished my Bachelors' Degree (Elementary Education, which I loved) almost completely debt-free because, as an independent person, grant money paid for the bulk of it.

5. My husband. Yeah, I've listed him last, but certainly not because he's less important! As a young woman, I always sort of "expected" to get married, and I did. That marriage, of course, ended in divorce. As a divorcee, I never really expected to re-marry. I'd been burned once and was very cautious about men. Still, when Don came into my life, it didn't take long before I fell in love. Ten years later, even with the challenges that have taken us into marriage counseling, I remain thankful for him.

Handwriting Samples

2010-11-17T15:48:00.001-05:00

Click on the images to see them larger.

Jason's teacher distributed these pages to the class, with the instruction to complete them "as best as you can." The first page is the my son wrote when he was sitting at the table with his classmates. When she looked at it, the teacher called him to her desk and asked him to try again.

Notice the difference?

Yeah, as long as the teacher sat directly beside him, Jason's work was nice and neat. Left to his own devices, it was beyond sloppy.

Jason gets occupational therapy (OT) for delayed motor skills. Because the school district did not provide those services over the summer, we took him to our local hospital. There, by the end of summer, the OT tested him. His age was 5 years 4 months; his fine motor skills tested at 5 years 3 months. In other words, she found that he'd caught up with his peers.

The second page pictured above proves that.

Our dilemma is this: How to get him to do that kind of work when he's sitting at the table with his peers?

Right now, I've printed an extra page for him from the handwriting worksheet web page. It says, "I can write neatly," and I've told him that, until it is done neatly, he doesn't get to play this afternoon. Because I suspect that his desire for the teacher's attention stems from Jason receiving excessive attention from us (he is, after all, an only child!), rather than stand over him, I'm sitting here blogging.

We'll see how he does.

The Church vs. The People

2010-11-14T18:21:00.001-05:00

Why is it that, for so many Christians, the only “church” is the one where they currently worship and/or the one in which they spent their childhood? Why can these people look at the folks who sit beside them in “their” church and see them as sisters and brothers in Christ, both saint and sinner? Why is it that these same people can look at Christians in other congregations (of the same denomination even) and see them as completely sinful, seemingly beyond the reach of Jesus’ arms?

During a group conversation yesterday, as we discussed shared ministry, I noted that there are many people who simply refuse to worship at one another’s church buildings. One person noted, “Pastor, you don’t understand. It’s not about the church. It’s about the people.”

(Insert sarcastic voice here.) Okay, then. It’s all clear to me now. That song that we’ve been singing in our Sunday School for many generations is meaningless.

I am the church.

You are the church.

We are the church together.

All who follow Jesus,

all around the world,

yes, we’re the church together.

The church is not a building,

the church is not a steeple,

the church is not a resting place,

the church is a people.

(End sarcasm.) Honestly, I do understand. Some people have been deeply hurt by members of other congregations. Their pain makes it difficult for them to worship together. What I do not understand, however, is how faithful Christians can judge an entire congregation based on the behavior of a few of its members. Nor do I understand how it is possible for my Lutheran congregants to be so self-righteous as to refuse to worship with anyone because of their sin.

One of the gifts I bring to ministry was first named by a member of my internship congregation, “You not only tell us about God’s grace, you tell us why we need it.” She went on to say that few of their pastors and/or interns had done so in a way that she understood it as clearly as she heard me. (That, of course, is not to say—or even imply—that they failed to preach both sin and grace. In my mind, it simply means that I did so in a new and easily comprehensible way.) The same gift has been noted where I currently serve, by both clergy colleagues and lay members.

All of us are both saint and sinner. There are no exceptions. Given that status, self-righteousness has no place in our lives. Nor do any of us get the privilege of judging the sin of others. Every single human who has ever lived is completely dependent upon God for righteousness! The people whose sin has caused us pain are no more sinful than we ourselves. Left to our own devices, we would all be worthy of condemnation. Thankfully, God has not left us on our own. We who have been baptized into Jesus’ death and resurrection have hope for eternity.

Sigh. Seven years—seven years—of my preaching has gone unheard by some. Is it any wonder that I feel discouraged?