Thin mints, peace on earth and light.

These are NOT the kind my grandfather bought but I have searched for days to no avail, these will do.

         I wrote a Christmas letter about traditions and mentioned how it was a tradition to have thin mints after dinner at my grandparent’s house.  I confessed in the letter that I don’t really like thin mints but they make my heart full when I see them on a table as my family gathers for holidays.

         My grandfather would get the box of mints out after the meal was cleared away, my siblings and I would wait anxiously for this moment, and he would take one mint and hand it out like gold. That’s right one mint.  Of course there were times we would sneak for another or begged for two-- but you know..the second one never tasted as good as the first.

          I don’t remember a lot about my grandfather, my last memories of him are when I was only 10. I have a child’s memory of him, a grandchild’s memory at that.  The beauty of this is that there is only good to remember. He was quiet, like my dad.  He was silly like most of us and he was double jointed like me! He was a man I wanted to be like, I would put whatever he ate on my plate as well..though I drew the line one night at brussel sprouts. 

          Holidays are the times when we have the gift of memories some we conjure up as we relive tradition and others catch us by surprise.  We cry, laugh, love a little more than usual and we are blessed most of the time by remembering the way a 10 year old does, the best of times ,even though many have lived through the worst of times.

         When I celebrate Christmas my heart is full of the best of memories: a baby born in the manger with singing,light and love, in spite of the violence that surrounded this babe.  How we live today can be the memory of light in a time of dark as well—what can be born in us this Christmas?

                There seems to be so much fighting about people looking for Christmas, somebody stole the word Christmas and has replaced it with Holiday!  I promise you—if you are looking for Christ the path is much clearer than it was for the shepherd and magi.  

If you want to represent Christ to the world “Be the light and peace that transcends all understanding.” Philippians 4:7

My Christmas pray this year is the same one I prayed with my 10 year old heart full from the love of Christ.

—Peace on Earth, peace on earth, peace on earth, peace on earth.

First and Last

The first memories are the last to go.

     The Common Ground Fair is one of the largest fairs in Maine.  The parking for this fair is difficult and often leaves one having to walk quite a distance to the entrance.  To address this issue the fair set up transportation on an old train from Thorndike or Unity to the fair.  As we arrived in Thorndike the scene was straight out of a movie. There were women spinning wool and knitting, with baskets of yarn overflowing on to a table and a house nearby was selling homemade ginger ice cream sandwiches.  The conductor was an elderly gentleman wearing a uniform that was quite dated, appropriate for the age of the train.  Once we got off the train our hands were stamped T for Thorndike so we would remember when we left that we were going back to Thorndike and NOT Unity.

     After a few hours at the fair it was time to get back on the train.  We stood in line making sure we were in the "T" line. While we were riding back to our car we heard the people next to us say "I think we are on the wrong train." they asked the conductor what to do and he advised them to just stay on and they would go to Unity the long way.

     In the mean time a father with his two sons were sitting in front of us also.  The picture is of his baby.  The older boy chatted along the whole ride making comments about the train and the view.  Once we stopped everyone stood to depart except for the couple beside us. I then realized that the father and his sons were remaining as well.  The older boy asked why they were not getting off and the father said "Oh because we are taking a longer ride--aren't we lucky?"  

    I thought of this sweet father as we drove home and I wondered did he make a mistake? Did take the wrong train on purpose--therefore not the wrong train?  What mattered most was that the father never let on that anything was out of the ordinary and that whatever they were doing he was taking care of them.  

    The father was focused on the journey for his sons and not the rush to get to the proper landing. The scripture last week from Mark 10:31 "But many who are first will be last, and the last first." Reminded me of this train ride, beginnings and endings often get tangled up and we can miss a lot of living if that is our focus.

     This boy looking out the window doesn't know that he is going to be one of the last off the train---or is he one of the first on the train because he never go off?  What this boy knows is that there is a great view from his window and a loving guide behind him.

Nobody is perfect or "Why I cried watching Ricky and the Flash."

         

It might get lonely waiting for the perfect guest.

           So I went to see Ricky and the Flash with Meryl Streep which looks like a comedy in the previews but I was wrong.   I cried, and really I could have and would have cried harder if I had been home alone watching it.  I cried because the story is about a broken family that is still a family trying to find a way to be together.  I cried because a mother is judged by people who know her and those who don’t, I cried because love looks different to different people, and I cried because part of the pain this family feels is based on what others have told them they should look like.

            We all have our blood families, the ones we are born into and with.  My parents had four children and 11 grandchildren.  You could take those grandchildren shake them up in a bag and pass them out randomly to different parents and it would look like they belonged where ever they were placed---many of our children look like their aunts, uncles and cousins…you can tell we are family. 

            We also have our families that have no blood involved.  There are families made through marriage and divorce, there are families made through work and school and families that come together for no real reason other than there was an empty space, or to put a positive spin on that –because there was room at the table.

            It can cause great pain when we feel that we have failed as a family, and there is no sweeter joy than when we feel we have succeeded.  Of course in a family these two things are not mutually exclusive.  The “goodbye”, the “hello”, the “I’m sorry” and the “I forgive you” these are the constant sounds of potential endings and promising futures. 

            Five families have come out of my parent’s family, each one different, each one loved.   Oh we fight and yell; we are too loud and bossy- though we think we are pretty funny as well.   We are far from perfect but we have felt the sweet joy of success.

            Lately I have wondered what God must feel, the message sent out from the Holy Spirit in our midst as we squabble and judge one another.  I wonder about the idea of people closing the door to heaven when the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 

            What is the sweet joy of success for God’s family?  Could it be when we see each other as God’s children, born into a family, created in love, deserving of love.  Could it be when we pull out the empty chair and say welcome my brother, welcome my sister.

In her blog threads Claire Jones writes:

“Christ lays the table. There’s no one who could come that Jesus turns away. So let’s ditch our boxes for people to tick and our hoops for people to jump through; let’s do away with the fear that God might be at work without our consent.  Christ lays the table. We need to step out of the way, and welcome anyone and everyone to come and join him there.”

I have a large family, made up of the people I am related to and the people I have grown into, individually there is no perfect companion but it is the whole that makes me smile; a great success.

One of those weeks.

When the cares of my heart are many,
    your consolations cheer my soul.  Psalm 94:19

            I have been in transition for a few weeks, leaving one congregation and moving to another.  We have been in our new home for almost a year and it seems that just now I am feeling the pains of leaving our home of 27 years. In a few days we will head off to celebrate my 35th class reunion!  Our daughter and her family are preparing to sell their home and move to a new neighborhood.  All of this has left me a bit vulnerable to the news.  Have you ever had that happen?  Our own life circumstances can make watching the news overwhelming. When the ground under our own feet is less than steady the typically rocky news can feel like an earthquake.

            I see stories that make me anxious for the vulnerability of our young people, for our government and the environment.  Acts of violence, political chaos and melting icebergs can leave me asking "What are we doing?" 

            I see stories that I do not fully understand and I see responses that I understand even less.  A young man dies from a fireworks accident and it was beyond my comprehension how quickly and viciously some people condemned him or even laughed at his actions.  It only made wonder if they thought they could avoid tragedy by making such declarations as to their own superior judgment.

             At times it is beyond comprehension how we treat each other.

These are the times when I cry easily as well, not full out cry, but you know what I mean, I get teary.  My eyes fill with tears as I watch Barbara Bush kiss her husband, a president I never voted for, I have seen the same clip three or four times over the past two days and I have the same reaction every time.

            When I think about this I am reminded that there are times when vulnerability is a good thing, it can help us to look at the world and people in it in a new way. When we are less than sure of something a great change may occur. There can be a stirring in our hearts for people that we may never have imagined.

           

            In the midst of all that the news inundates us with, there is hope.  A young woman survives a plane crash and in her lowest moment when she is sure she will die, she says  "I can't die like this-not ever hugging someone again!"  A hug!  A hug gave her the stamina to carry on.  Is it really that simple?  That what can inspire amazing courage and spirit is this simple act we so often take for granted?

            I have enormous gardens in our new yard and yet a simple flower growing up out of the stone brought me great delight.  This little sprig reminded me that honestly-- this is the norm---people overcome great struggles and oppression everyday and they rise up out of the dark places to life.

            The news may try to bury us in all that is wrong, all that hurts but in the end there are signs all around us that there is more. There is more to be done, more to be said and more to see.

Shel Silverstein may say it best:  "Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.” 

Clear Browsing Data?

       As I cleaned out and packed up one church office for another there were last minute details that would finalize this transition.  Files were put in order, trash emptied, personal remains removed and last but not least I deleted files and cleared the history on the church computer. 

 

           

            I looked at the words "Clear browsing data” and I thought "There are plenty of us who might want to clear some of our own history this easily."   One click of a button and the past actions are gone, well we all know some people can override the system, but for all intents and purposes--gone.

            Recently Ben Affleck has been in the news for his request that the PBS series "Finding Your Roots" omit the discovery that one of his ancestors was a slave owner.  Affleck later stated that he was embarrassed by this but apologized for trying to hide the information---in other words, I might say he tried to "clear the browsing data."

            What difference would it have made to anyone if this information had been shared?  I like to think it might have made a statement that we can move on from the bigotry and racism of our ancestors. 

            A few years ago I was having a conversation with 2 middle school students.  One was asking the other if they remembered what a bully they used to be.  The other said yes and apologized.  Both students were known for bullying.  At one point they looked at me and asked “Have you ever been bullied?”

            My response “I have been bullied and while I don’t have a particular situation in mind I am sure I was a bully.”  It would have been easier to leave out the second half of my response but their reaction was worth the honesty.  They could not believe this and thus began the conversation of how our actions without any conscious intent can feel like bullying to others as well as our acts of righteousness.  I fell to peer pressure; I whispered with my friends (whispering can feel like bullying even if it is only about the weather) and I did not draw my circle as wide as I do today.  It was not a comfortable conversation and it made me sad and ashamed when I looked back with knowing eyes. 

           

"You cannot erase the past. You must let it go. You cannot change yesterday. You must accept the lessons learned." Author Unknown

            All throughout the Bible God asks the people not to forget where they have come from and Jesus asks that we remember him always, that we remember his actions always.  Don't forget the oppression and always remember the comfort and healing available to all people in all times.   Our response is a part of our relationship with God.

            We celebrate the independence of the nation today, an independence born from determination and dreams of change.  A birth made messy by the violence and oppression of indigenous people.  It is by fully recognizing our past that we can fully celebrate who we are on our way to becoming. 

In spite of the conflicts in our nation today, the violence and the fear---the world is still full of dreamers—that is worth celebrating—it is a part of our DNA.

            As I shut my office door one last time I was aware of the pastors before me who have done the same, each one of us a part of a church's whole story.  Each appointment full of hopes and dreams along with a few mistakes. 

In spite of the conflicts, the hurtful accusations and the fear--the church is still full of dreamers---that is worth celebrating—it is a part of our DNA

We've a story to tell to the nations,

A story of truth and mercy,

A story of peace and light,

......We've a message to give to the nations,

...God is love--- (Adapted from the hymn)

Something About a Bridge--

Camp Mechuwana not that long ago and still there was snow!

There is something about a bridge. I saw this bridge and had to stop and take a picture, who doesn't love a bridge?  I don't mean the big kind some are afraid to drive over but a bridge like this--who doesn't love it?

            When our children were young my husband built a little white rounded bridge for the PTA float; bridging the gap between home and school.  That bridge was used for years in our backyard as a place for damsels in distress, knights in duels,goats and trolls, backpackers and mountain climbers. We brought that bridge to brownies and scouts for badge ceremonies and it was even used for a high school dance photo backdrop.  I have no idea what finally happened to that bridge but I do know we loved it.

            There are rickey bridges and the ones that rise up high, there are the bridges we lift our feet off the car floor for so we can make a wish and there are the ones we don't open our eyes on until we are on the other side. There is the thrill and the lurch in the stomach that comes with some bridges and there are the moments of time stood still right in the middle of the bridge

            I think of all the transitions that are taking place in our family and I am reminded of how a bridge can represent the place we stand as we look to the past and the future.  Between my own children and my nieces and nephews transitions abound.  There are graduations and weddings, first apartments and new jobs, some will move and some will travel.  As they begin to take these first steps to someplace/ something new the beauty is this, there is no door on the other side that will close. The bridge is open ended, the bridge connects our past to our future.

           

“The wisdom of bridges comes from the fact that they know the both sides, they know the both shores!”

― Mehmet Murat Ildan

.

            I too am in a time of transition as I prepare to move from one congregation in Hallowell to another in Farmington.  I feel like I am standing in the middle of bridge, I look back at the shores I have come to know so well: the Sugar Cookies, and Scrummy's treats, the candy dish which  measured stress by the number of wrappers in the trash. I look back at chicken pie, plants and the story I have learned to tell of a man named Melville.  Quilting, yoga, picnics, walks and the best meatloaf ever (!) at "The Cup".  Children dressed in costume, children with painted faces, children saying prayer, welcoming strangers and eating donuts off a string.  I look back at coffee with friends and long conversations.

            I stand on the bridge and looking back at a steeple, Slates, the Harlow, Whipper Snappers and Reappearances. I look forward to a longer drive with lakes and farms along the way, gardens and town fairs...I stand in this place with a little bit of a lurch in my stomach but I gain confidence in knowing that the place I leave is not closed off to me and the place I arrive I will know well enough-soon enough. 

            

Prayer for the House of Representatives and then some.

Waiting for the snow to melt.

           I started my day this Holy Thursday preparing to pray at the House of Representatives this morning.  It seemed a bit odd to be doing this on a day such as this, a day when I am feeling reflective about Christ’s life, the Lenten journey I have been on with my congregation and the promise of gathering as Easter people on Sunday morning.  But Christ has taught me that there are times we are called into a variety of places at the most unusual of times. 

This is the prayer I shared with them:

          God-This morning we gather, it is April and yet we may feel that we are in a holding pattern as we wait...we wait for snow to melt, we wait for puddles to grow deep, freezing no more.  We wait for the sun to warm our backs and because we live in Maine we are not demanding, we do not require summer days to shed the jackets, ----we are waiting.  The good people gathered here this morning are waiting for the day to begin, they are waiting to speak, they are waiting to be heard, they are waiting to be part of the process.  The people outside these doors wait as well, they wait to be represented, they wait for decisions to be made, and they are waiting to be part of the process as well.  So on this April day, with snow banks still in view be with all the people who wait, may we be encouraged rather than discouraged, may we experience anticipation with joy rather than anxiety, may we understand that we connected by this simple act, we all wait.  May the work of this day celebrate the amazing resources that we have in this beautiful state and the variety of experiences of the people who live here. We are grateful for the families and loved ones of those gathered here; bless their homes, and the work of this day. 

It was ironic that just before I went to offer this prayer a gentleman said to me "Sorry to keep you waiting."  I told him that I don't mind waiting, and I meant it.  I have learned that waiting offers up the time to do nothing or some of the things that require us to simply stop.  Write, read, think, there are opportunities to seize while waiting, waiting for the phone to ring, the new arrival, the dreaded departure, the new beginning, the expected and unexpected.

Waiting for an appointment is a chance to just be and catch up on reading but if I am at home waiting for the call that someone is safe, someone is well....then I wait and clean with a vengeance.  It is ironic that some waiting requires us to sit --a respite from activity --and other times we can't stay still, pacing and moving. 

For those of us participating in Holy Week services we too wait, we wait for the bread to be broken, the cross to be carried, the black cloth to be draped, and the silent exits, yet we also wait for the good news.

In the movie The Terminal Tom Hanks character Viktor Navorski said "You say you are waiting for something. And I say to you, "Yes, yes. We all wait".

This is the good news... If you are waiting, you are not alone. 

Broken

The other day I was sitting in bed with my morning coffee watching the news when the cup landed in my lap.  I leaped up with a screech as it was hot, and a screech as it was on my iPad and a screech as I was stunned.  Once I was standing, everything saved; I looked at my hand and saw that I was still gripping the handle of my mug.  Broken.

            Lent is a time of self-examination. It is a time when we evaluate our lives and our living as individuals and in relation to others.  Once we begin this time of reflection often we see what is broken.  Some of what we see does not surprise us, like the finicky light switch that needs to be jiggled just right to turn on.  Other things appear to us in a new light and what once seemed whole has shadows of lines and cracks; its fragility is exposed. Then there are the times when the hot coffee dumps in your lap, the times when there was no predicting what is about to happen.

           

As we journey to the cross through Lent, we are reminded of the brokenness that Christ was speaking of when he lifted the bread and tore it in half.  “..The Lord Jesus took the loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body, which is given (broken) for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.’” (1 Corinthians 11:23-24)

            We are on the other side of the story; benefactors of the meal between Jesus and his friends.  We can see that what once was broken can be made whole again.  Of course what the new whole looks like will not be the same, but there can be beauty in the scars that remain after healing.

            Lent is not only a time of somber reflection but also a time to imagine new beginnings. This is a time to recognize that the pain of what has been "dumped" in our laps can be an opportunity to begin again. This is a time to "mop up", "stitch up" and lift our heavy laden feet as we join Jesus on his journey to the cross.  As we walk with him through Lent we may find comfort in knowing that he walks with us, the broken and weary, the full and lighthearted.  Christ meets us where we are and asks that we remember him.

I Look Up

Recently my friend sang the song "I Will Lift My Eyes" by Bebo Norman and it made me think about how often I lift my eyes whether I am in a moment of joy, sorrow or simple gratitude.

I do not lift my eyes because I look up to a God that sits on a throne the great director of life; I lift my eyes in wonder.

When I look to the heavens, the night sky, the stars, the sun, and the clouds-I am in awe.

            I look up and I am drawn into a sense of greatness.  I wonder at the beauty and magnitude of all that I see and cannot see; all that is within my grasp and the infinity of what is beyond my reach.   I am reminded of my place in this world; I am but one person in a small village. 

            One of our children's teacher use to say about his students going off to college "they are frogs in a very small pond right now, soon they will be in a lake and the world will change."  When I look up I am moving out of the pond, I am humbled by my smallness. 

            My eyes are drawn up and away from the chaos, the confusion and the clutter of living.  It is in the vast expanse of "heaven" that I can gain reassurance and comfort from the saints that have gone before me.  Whatever I am experiencing someone has or is going through the same thing. 

My challenges, my celebrations are unique to me....but not so unique.

            I lift my eyes to join my neighbor, the known and unknown.  I join the neighbor that has gone before me, the one that lives with me and the ones that will come after me.

 I lift my eyes and I am not alone.

"I will lift my eyes to the Maker

Of the mountains I can't climb

I will lift my eyes to the calmer

Of the oceans raging wild

I will lift my eyes to the Healer

Of the hurt I hold inside

I will lift my eyes, lift my eyes

To You"---Bebo Norman