Why Hospitality House?

So a couple of years ago when I started this blog, I chose the name "hospitality house" mainly because that is what I hope Joel & I have always had, and what those of you who have visited us over the past almost twenty years have felt when you were in our home. Whether it was Saint James students for brownies and Risk on the weekends (in the early days) or a whirlwind trip to Atlanta (in the more recent days), renegals from far and near for a bit of southern charm and hospitality, Greenville friends visiting us in Decatur, or seminary friends sleeping on our couch or on the floor, we have always tried to have a house that is warm and welcoming regardless of who visits. No promise of it being chaos-free, but there's always food on the table (or in the fridge) and a cold or hot beverage for anyone who comes by. :-)

Well, I receive a daily devotional from the Henri Nouwen Society that has been unusually timely during these recent difficult days. The one I received this morning is an apt description of why this blog is named what it is. Read on...

True Hospitality

Every good relationship between two or more people, whether it is friendship, marriage, or community, creates space where strangers can enter and become friends. Good relationships are hospitable. When we enter into a home and feel warmly welcomed, we will soon realise that the love among those who live in that home is what makes that welcome possible.

When there is conflict in the home, the guest is soon forced to choose sides. "Are you for him or for her?" "Do you agree with them or with us?" "Do you like him more than you do me?" These questions prevent true hospitality - that is, an opportunity for the stranger to feel safe and discover his or her own gifts. Hospitality is more than an expression of love for the guest. It is also and foremost an expression of love between the hosts.

It is this kind of hospitality that I strive to maintain in our home. And any of you who know Mom know that it is Mom who taught this to me. Those of you who know her know that there was ALWAYS an extra place at the table for anyone who showed up--from hitchhikers that my brothers picked up on their way home from God-only-knows-where, to the guest preacher of the day at HMPC, there was always room for one more. And it is because of that trait in Mom--her ability to make friends with anyone, and to make everyone feel welcome in their home--that we have been inundated with love, support, cards, and concern these past few weeks. It has been a true blessing, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

This week has been quite a whirlwind for us, but we have survived, indeed prevailed, I'd say. We've had only the one doctor's appointment on Monday, and have "rested easy" since then. I am getting better and better in my role as "nurse" when it's time to drain the excess fluid, and Mom is getting better and better in her role as patient. As you all might expect, receiving care is not easy for one who has done the caring so much of her life--but she is learning. :-) Dad, too, is learning--learning more than he ever cared to know about running a household! And he has been a champion about it. All in all, life is good.

So we plod along in this strange new space, with greater appreciation for each day and for the blessings that we have among us and around us. All in all, life is good. Thanks be to God!

A Woman's Prerogative

Tom, Calli, & I received this email from Mom this morning, and I share it here with her permission. The subject line read: Change of Mind.

"Last night I went to bed shortly after Ned got here & slept til 4:30 without even waking up. That was a gift!! Then I began re-thinking my decision to take the Tarceva. I prayed about it & prayed about it & thought about all of the ramifications. They really don't know how it will work for me, they say I will be tired & have diahrreah & can't go around anybody who is sick etc, etc, & they don't know how much time it will buy for me. SO I HAVE DECIDED TO JUST RIDE OUT THIS CANCER & "treat the symptoms" as they say. I believe my quality of life will be just as good if not better doing it this way. And who knows...I might live just as long & have a better quality of life leaving off that poison!!! I have not told your dad yet, but I think he will be just fine with this decision. I will get the pain medicine filled because I think I will need that down the road. It just sounded more & more like it would be doing something that would in the long road not make my life any better. I have lived 80 wonderful years, I want the last years to be as good as possible, with my knowing what is going on as long as possible.
So there is my FINAL DECISION!! Jill you can stop the wheels from turning about the insurance coverage...how ever you need to do that!! And we will just enjoy the time we have to the fullest...all of us!!!
The birds are singing outside & I take that as affirmation!!!
God bless you everyone!!! "

I have hardly stopped crying since I read it about an hour ago--a wild mix of tears of sadness, relief, assurance, fear, respect, and selfishness. We have said all along, the three of us, that this is Mom's cancer and that it's Mom's decision--one we would respect wholeheartedly no matter what she decided. And we do. But that doesn't make it any easier.

With treatment of some kind, we were given the hope of a year or two, maybe even three. Without treatment, all signs point to months rather than years.

As I was sitting at the counter just now, working the Tuesday crossword through my intermittent tears, Daniel, unaware that I was upset, said "Happy Early Birthday, Mom!" I thanked him and said that I thought it would be a sad one this year. He came over and gave me a hug and said, "I know." I explained to him that Attee had decided to forego treatment, and that she would likely not be here for my next birthday. "I know, Mom. We just have to enjoy the time that we do have with her now."

He's twelve. He's wise. He's right.

So let's all do that, shall we? And who knows? The prayers of many and the strength of one spunky 80 year old lady just might be stronger than any cancer drug out there. I pray so.

A Brief Update

Those of you that have been keeping up with Mom's health via this site probably know that we had an oncology visit this morning. Things went well, and Mom decided that she would like to give the treatment option Tarceva a try. Briefly, we hope this will slow the growth of the cancer without the difficulty or side effects that are so common with traditional chemotherapy. If you really want to read more about it, visit the drug's website--she has "advanced non-small cell lung cancer." The doctor also wrote a prescription for a mild painkiller which will be nice since she is beginning to complain of pain that I suspect is related to the cancer in her bones. Mom tends to be very wary of painkillers, so I do hope she will at least give this a try. It's important for her to get good rest, and she can do that best when the pain is under control.

The appointment this morning was long--it was at 11:00, and we got home around 2:00--but the nurses and doctor took a great deal of time with us, and were wonderful. They answered all of our questions, and generally were as supportive as they could possibly be. We are so grateful to be so close to Emory! It is literally a 15-minute drive for us from door to door.

Mom's spirits were a bit low after the appointment--it was draining both emotionally and physically for us all--but a haircut for her on the way home perked her up a bit. She is showering for the first time in a week as I type, and when I finish this update, I will go drain her pleural cavity again, so by the end of the day she will be in good shape--squeaky clean and breathing well! :-) We have a wonderful woman from our church bringing us dinner--she mentioned pork, chicken, twice-baked potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, corn pudding, and green beans. That will be great, especially after our long appointment this morning / afternoon.

Dad is doing well, all things considered. He is learning about doing laundry, cooking, and using the microwave. And they occasionlly bicker back and forth as usual, which is oddly refreshing. He is sad, though, and all of this is incredibly hard on him. However, in true "Tommy" fashion, he is holding lots of it inside. I can tell, though, that his heart is breaking for his sweet girlfriend of 60+ years, and he is sad about the thought of life without her--something I daresay he never thought he would experience. So cards for him are greatly appreciated as well. He needs TLC just as much as Mom, if not moreso.

As usual, thank you all for the prayers and support. They continue to lift us all up and give us strength.

Sandwiches and Peace

According to Wikipedia, the source of common knowledge for all things, except maybe God, the term "sandwich generation" is used to describe the generation of people who are caring for their aging parents while simultaneously supporting their own children. There is even a website by that name, designed to connect, nurture, and support those of us who are in that category. Many people may consider it a burden to be caring both up (for parents) and down (for children) simultaneously. However, I consider it a great blessing to have two wonderful parents and three terrific sons, and there are few greater privileges than to walk beside them in this life--laughing and crying with them, loving and caring for them. To have a loving, supportive spouse that willingly and patiently travels this road with us all is mere icing on the cake.

The gospel writer Mark often uses a "sandwiching" style in his writing. A "Markan sandwich" is a literary technique whereby the gospel writer interrupts a story with what appears to be an unrelated story. A classic example can be found in Chapter 5--the healing of Jairus' daughter is interrupted by the healing of the hemorrhaging woman. Anyone who has studied this, or others of Mark's "sandwich" stories knows that the interrupted story and the middle story are far from unrelated, although they may appear to be at first glance.

Yesterday, I began my day by leading the youth of Decatur Presbyterian Church, in which 2 or our 3 sons are participants, in their "break fast" service of communion from their 30-hour famine lock-in. While I did not observe the fast, I do know that starting the day with the Lord's Supper at 7AM was a rare blessing--a wonderful way to begin the day. (I must confess, however, that I did drink my coffee before I partook of the elements. Priorities, my friend, priorities!) And I ended my day in a similar way, leading the youth of Columbia Presbyterian Church in their "break fast" service of communion at 5:30 in the afternoon.

And in between, I cared for my mother. Since she cannot yet shower because of her recent medical procedure, I washed her hair for her in the kitchen sink, as she did for me on countless Saturday nights when I was a little girl. Then I carefully and deliberately followed the step-by-step instructions for draining the fluid from her pleural cavity for the third time--a procedure we currently have to do every other day. As she recovered from the pain that ensues each time we do that, I held her and stroked her hair. I reminded her of all the years she spent caring for me when I was a child, and assured her that it was, it is, indeed, a privilege to be able to care for her now, even as she continues to take care of me as well.

Just like a Markan sandwich, at first glance, those two "stories" may seem unrelated. It may seem a bit odd that my services of "breaking fast" were "interrupted" by my caring for my mother. But the meal that God gave us is a meal that provides strength and sustenance--bread for the journey of life, if you will. And the double reminder, those two meals of strength, sustencance, and nurture with which I was blessed yesterday, were reminders of the bond we share as Christ-followers--when we are at that table, and when we are out and about doing the work to which God calls us.

God called me to be both a daughter and a mother. And God, and God alone, can and will give me the strength, patience, and endurance that I need to live into those callings each and every day. There will be good days and bad days, I know. And while I'd still rather put this piece of chocolate in the nearest trash can rather than to claim it as "my piece," there is nothing more important to me right now than being present with and for my family--both up, down, and sideways. (That's you, Joel, as well as Calli & Tom...)

I continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude for the many prayers that are being offered on our behalf--for me, for my mom & dad, for my siblings, and for Joel & our boys. I can truly say that for the first time in my life, I am experiencing a peace that passes all understanding.

Thanks be to God for both sandwiches and peace!

Thursday's Update

The fluid in Mom’s pleural cavity was filling up rather quickly, so something needed to be done to control it. After much deliberation, and even a change of plans, we opted to have a PleurX catheter inserted so that we could drain the fluid ourselves every few days. It should alleviate her coughing almost entirely, making it easier to talk on the phone or just have a normal conversation, not to mention making her breathing easier, hopefully giving her more energy.

So the procedure on Tuesday went fine. It was a bit more painful than we expected, but then again, it did involve a lot--cutting a hole under her right armpit, placing a tube about 18 inches long into her body, half of it under the skin poking through muscle and tissue into her pleural cavity, and the other half sticking out of the front of her body so that we can attach a vacuum-bottle every other day and drain the fluid. So not exactly a cake-walk.

When the catheter was inserted, they had Dad & me go back with Mom for me to do the first draining under nurse supervision. It is a simple enough procedure, but the sterility of it all is a bit rattling for me. And the combination of the heat in the room, the lack of food on my stomach, the reality of what I was actually doing, and the pain it was causing her was more than I could handle. I didn't faint, but I did have to sit down with my head between my knees, breathing deeply for a few minutes. I regained my composure and we finished up, draining a full liter from her. The pain was excruciating as the lung reinflated, but after about 15 minutes, it began to subside, and within another hour, we were headed home. Much better than 2 nights in the hospital that the other procedure would have required.

All day Tuesday, Mom was a bit uncomfortable, but was better by Wednesday afternoon, and even better today. We had to drain it for the first time on our own this morning, and it went relatively smoothly. It was still a bit painful, but only for 2 or 3 minutes. And I got light-headed again, but regained composure fairly quickly. I think I did it all just right, and we drained about 400cc from her, a difference she said she could definitely feel. So, all in all, that was good.

But I'd still rather not have this piece of chocolate.

When we were finished with "the procedure" and had made our way back to the den, I hugged Mom as tightly as I could without hurting her, then I crawled in my daddy's lap for a few minutes. I couldn't help but think how nice it would be to be a child again--carefree and unaware of the harsh realities of life.

But I'm not.

The prayers you all are praying continue to lift us all up in amazing ways. I know the strength that I feel is not my own, and the sense of peace that I feel is not coming from within me. Mom gets 4 or 5 cards in the mail every day, and loves the flowers that people are sending. Those of you that remember Dad with a card or note are wonderful to realize that this is just as hard on him as it is on her. But he is learning how to negotiate household responsibilities, and Mom is learning how to let him. He has gotten pretty good in the kitchen, and today I taught him how to start the washing machine. They had enough food in the fridge tonight to have the five of us down there for dinner, which was really nice.

I said to Mom earlier today that I really never understood the comment that someone has "good days and bad days" before, until now. But it's very true. Cancer brings with it good days and bad days. And we are learning to savor the good, and patiently endure the bad ones, trusting that the sun will shine again, and that all will be well.

Peace, friends.

Wisdom from Forrest Gump

Remember the movie Forrest Gump? I loved that movie. It has been said that the world will never be the same once you have seen it through the eyes of Forrest Gump. And how true that is!

A couple of nights ago, Joel reminded me of one of one of the lines from that movie. Forrest’s mama, played by Sally Fields, is on her deathbed, dying of cancer. She has a conversation with her son Forrest, a mentally challenged adult, played by Tom Hanks. She is doing her best to explain to him that she is dying.

Forrest Gump: What's the matter, Momma?
Mama Gump: I'm dyin', Forrest. Come on in, sit down over here.
Forrest Gump: Why are you dyin', Momma?
Mama Gump: It's my time. It's just my time. Oh, now, don't you be afraid, sweetheart. Death is just a part of life. It's something we're all destined to do. I didn't know it, but I was destined to be your momma. I did the best I could.
Forrest Gump: You did good, Momma.

Good stuff, indeed, but the conversation didn’t stop there.

Mama Gump: Well, I happened to believe you make your own destiny. You have to do the best with what God gave you.
Forrest Gump: What's my destiny, Momma?
Mama Gump: You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself. Life is a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get.

I guess in many ways like a box of chocolates. But there’s just one thing. When I am fortunate enough to be the recipient of a box of chocolates, I might take a bite of one and realize that what I’ve selected does not really appeal to me. So I can simply throw it away.

But not this time. Life has given me one of those chocolates that I don’t really care for…you know, like those hard, chewy pink- or orange-centered chocolates. I’d just as soon put it back for someone else, or better yet, throw it away so that no one else has to eat it.

But that’s not an option this time, is it?

Tuesday Morning update

Just wanted to let you all know that there has been a slight change of plans. After some additional information and a family discussion last night, we opted for another way to manage the fluid in the lungs, called PleurX. It is a catheter that will allow Mom to drain the fluid from the pleural cavity on her on, as needed. It is a simpler process, and will not require an overnight stay, as it is an outpatient procedure. We are having it done this morning, and should be home by early afternoon.

Thanks for the continued prayers and support. They mean the world to all of us.

Update on Mom

I know there are a few folks who read this blog for the latest news on Mom's health, so I wanted to post an update today after our latest round of appointments.

She had her first visit with the oncologist last week, and that went fine. It was essentially just a typical "first visit," so nothing was decided--the doctor just went over what they knew at that point, and ordered a bone scan, which was done on Friday. The cancer seems to have originated in the lung, and had metastasized to her lymph nodes by the time of her intial diagnosis. And now, the results of the bone scan show that the cancer has, as we had feared, metastasized to her bones. The results of the scan showed "4 areas of uptake" in her ribcage, which essentially means it is present in 4 areas in her ribs. There is also cancer present in her spine--thorax, lumbar, and cervical bones.

We had an appointment with a pulmonologist today to discuss palliative treatment to control the fluid that will continue to build up in her pleural space due to the cancer in the lung. She goes into the hospital (Emory) tomorrow for a procedure that will require a 1 to 2 night stay--flowers would certainly cheer up the room, if anyone feels so inclined! She will first have an ultrasound to verify the presence of fluid, then have the fluid drained. After that, they will inject a talc inside the the cavity around her lung that will cover the exterior of the lung, creating an adhesive-like substance. This then creates a seal in the pleural space so that the fluid cannot accumulate, thereby keeping the lung from losing its "space" in the pleural cavity. The procedure is call a "pleuraldesis."

I keep hoping that one of these apointments will bring a ray of hope, but that's not happening. I am trying to keep my spirits up so that she will stay positive and strong, enjoying the time that she does have left. She wasn't having a good morning at all when I picked her up, and the bad news from the appointment about did her in. She was very down and sad. However, I went by around 2:00, and she seemed to be in a better place emotionally, and possibly even a bit better physically. I think for her, those two are very definitely connected. If we can keep her positive, enjoying the now, and as busy as she is comfortable being, then she will feel better and enjoy what time she has left more.

Prayers are continued to be appreciated, as are cards and other reminders that we are all holding her close in our hearts.

For Better...Indeed.

One of the things that I have learned about myself in my almost 43 years is that the depth of my emotions often, if not always, exceeds my ability to express them verbally. Perhaps if I had a running recorder at all times, then I could fully convey the depth of things I feel using words at the exact time that I feel them. Then again, I don’t even know if that would help.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as frustrated with that part of myself as I am now.

Another thing that I have learned is that my memory of how something feels, even though I cannot express those feelings verbally, far exceeds my memory of other things that have happened or that I have encountered in my past. Things like names, dates, facts—even stories or events. I suppose the running recorder would help that as well, for those times when I meet someone and want to remember a story or name or fact that person tells me for some reason—to include in a sermon, to blog about later, or even to recall it for practical purposes, such as a phone number, website, or email address. That is partially why I have begun carrying around a small, leather-bound book with blank pages, in which I can record such things. I can’t seem to remember the actual words that accompany the information or experience, but I can remember how it FELT to be in my skin at that very time, even years later.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as grateful for this part of myself as I am now.

This trip, this experience of being in this place, in Costa Rica, has brought up so many emotions, so many feelings, so many memories. In the past 24 hours, I have seen, heard, and smelled the same things that I did when I was on this same plot of land in 1978, at age 12 with my brother Hunter, who died 18 years later. And in the past week, as I have begun to live into this new reality of my mom’s cancer diagnosis, I am acutely reminded of how it truly felt to live into the reality of Hunter’s death when it seemed more imminent than ever on those hot summer days in Atlanta in 1996.

I don’t yet understand how those memories are connected, really. But I do know that I have experienced these same feelings only once before. And being a “Feeler” on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I find comfort in the familiarity of the feelings. In other words, I am not afraid of them because I know them. I know them intimately.

For better or for worse, these feelings are my long lost friends.

The difference this time is that because I know them, I know that I can actually choose “better” or “worse.” The first time they walked through my door, I had no idea what the gaping hole that Hunter’s death would bring might feel like. I was afraid of it. I did not know it. I did not know a death that would reach down and grab my very heart and soul and wrench it time and time again. And it scared me.

But this time I do, and I am not afraid. This time, I know that the death of a loved one’s body does not have anything to do with the relationship we have with that loved one. My brother Hunter, whom I adored, and whom I am told adored me even more, is still a very real part of my life. I have never been as sure of that as I am now, experiencing this country he loved among people he loved, taking in sights and sounds and smells that he loved. I realize that Hunter is just as much as part of my life now as he was when we rode those horses together on this very beach all those years ago. He is just as much a part of my life now as he was when we laughed at the antics of a friendly monkey, or when we explored the jetties and tidepools of this beautiful paradise searching for ocean treasures. Hunter & I were and still are connected in a way that I never understood, and have given up trying to understand. Our still-very-much-alive bond has become just another one of those parts of my life. I gave up trying to figure it out long ago, and have come to accept it as it is.

And I thank God for it.

In a way that I still do not understand, Hunter is as much a part of my life now as he was when he was alive. A part of me is sad that he is not here to be a real presence, a real part of the boys’ lives, because he was such an amazing person, and they would love him and he would adore them. But the gaping hole that I thought his death would leave is constantly filled abundantly and beyond with memories of him. The absence that I thought would be painful forever overflows with the memories I have of our times together, and with the sure knowledge that we are still connected. We are connected, and so he is still very much with me, a part of me.

So as I live into this new reality that brings along with it feelings that are not so new, I am not afraid. I choose “for better” rather than “for worse,” because I know them. I know the road ahead will not be easy. But I choose this day to do it in full faith and trust that God will be with us every step of the way, I choose to travel this road cloaked in the knowledge that death is not to be feared, because nothing in life or in death can separate us from the love of God...or the love we have for another.

My Sweet Mama...

We got the preliminary pathology results back yesterday on the fluid that was drained from her lungs, and the news is not good. The initial results suggest that it's advanced stage 3, probably stage 4, and that agressive treatment would be the only option. Obviously, any "treatment" would be palliative, not curative. Mom has initially said that she did NOT want treatment that would make her feel worse than the cancer does, so I'm guessing she will opt out. But we will wait to see what the oncologist says before we decide for sure. I'm sure the family will honor her wish, regardless of what it is.

My GUESS, based on knowledge of her history and reading between the lines when I was listening to the doctor, is that the initial cancer diagnosis will stem from somewhere else, and that it has metastasized to the lung. Not that it really matters at this point, but we should know more about that when we see the oncologist. Hopefully that will be late this week or early next week.

I am literally in shock. Please keep us in your prayers. Regardless of what we find out, and what she decides about treatment, the road ahead will be rough. The boys know she has cancer, but not the extent of it. We don't see any benefit to telling them how bad the prognosis is--we're just going to encourage them to treasure along with us the time we have left with her.

We still plan to leave for Costa Rica on Friday, and I pray it will be restful, restorative, and centering for all of us. It seems will we need it more than ever in the weeks and months ahead. I've been worried about from where the strength would come, but I am finding it through God's grace and the prayers of many. Thank you all.

To quote an old Tom Petty song...

The waiting is the hardest part.

In case anyone is actually reading this blog to find out about Mom, I wanted to give a quick update after meeting with her primary doctor this morning. Providentially, it was an appointment that she's had for a couple of weeks, but it gave us a chance to ask the several questions that have arisen since we learned of this new diagnosis.

The hard part is that we don't really know anything more after talking with her, but I would say that we might feel a bit more hopeful. Dr. Black did refer to it definitively as lung cancer, but we still won't know what kind or where else it might be until the pathology results from the lung fluid come back. Then, depending on those results, they might opt to do a brachioscopy--which is essentially taking a small piece of the lung out and looking more closely at it to determine what kind we're dealing with.

All of this should take place in the next week or two, since, according to Dr. Black, they "don't mess around with cancer," and do whatever it takes to get things moving as fast as possible. That's reassuring as well. But I still feel like we are in a "hurry up and wait" kind of mode, and that pretty much stinks. I guess I've gotten pretty good at it over the past few years, but it's definitely not any easier!

So that's it. Again, thanks for all the words of comfort and the promises of prayer. We can truly feel the love and support. :-)

If only...

We've just learned that my mom has cancer.

If you know my mom, if you've been around my mom in the last few years, if you love my mom like so many people do, then I imagine you felt that same sense of shock that I did when we received the news on Friday. Perhaps, like mine, your heart already feels a bit of its brokenness because of the looming questions and decisions that we must face. Or maybe you feel a sharp pain in your gut that I'm sure is some primal instinct we get when we want to turn tail and run, but realize we are trapped. But I pray that you also feel God's calming, soothing presence surrounding you, as I did while we listened carefully to the doctor's words.

If only it had been "just" pneumonia.

We don't know much, but already we do know that the next few weeks will likely be full of anxiety, questions, uncertainties, and decisions. The first round of test results is due back early this week, hopefully Tuesday. At that point, we will begin to discern the best way forward. I suppose the best way to keep folks abreast of all that is going on is via this blog, at least for now, so that's what I will do. In the meantime, we ask for your prayers and your support. I believe both can make an impossible situation bearable, both are powerful witnesses to our common bond in life and faith, and both are gifts we can share.

I receive a daily devotional from the Henri Nouwen Society , then send it out to my Emory students. They are always good, and occasionally seem eerily appropriate. Such was the case today.

Care, the Source of All Cure

Care is something other than cure. Cure means "change." A doctor, a lawyer, a minister, a social worker-they all want to use their professional skills to bring about changes in people's lives. They get paid for whatever kind of cure they can bring about. But cure, desirable as it may be, can easily become violent, manipulative, and even destructive if it does not grow out of care. Care is being with, crying out with, suffering with, feeling with.

Care is compassion. It is claiming the truth that the other person is my brother or sister, human, mortal, vulnerable, like I am.When care is our first concern, cure can be received as a gift. Often we are not able to cure, but we are always able to care. To care is to be human.

Friends, may we all learn the gift of CARING first, and may the cures we seek--as daughters, doctors, earth-lovers, teachers, friends, ministers, relatives, counselors, writers, and people-lovers--may they grow out of the deep care that we have for one another.

God bless each of you, now and always.

Why I Am Giddy These Days...

Today, when I posted a Facebook status that said I was "giddy," I had a friend ask me why. I responded by saying that it was all about our new president. I wrote, "Everytime I hear anything about what he's doing or thinking or deciding, I am overwhelmed with happiness for our country and our future. It is wonderful to have someone in office who holds values so similar to my own!" She responded: "I saw your post, and I would be interested in hearing what values he has that you share. People are on such opposite ends of the spectrum on this guy that I would be interested to hear your position." So I sat down and composed the following response, which I thought was blog-worthy. Feel free to comment...respectfully, or not at all. :-)


First and foremost, I respect most of all his committment to the Christian faith, but also his genuine respect for other faith traditions. We Christians tend to think that we have it right, that we have God figured out, and that non-Christians are in dire need of conversion to our way of seeing / thinking. While I do believe that Christianity is (for me) the clearest path towards what God intended for us, I also believe that God can and does work outside the bounds of Christianity, and can save whomever He so chooses. (That is very reformed, very Presbyterian...!) I also believe very firmly that salvation is first and foremost about God, not about us, and that it is not our place to judge. All of these things seem to be in line with what I have come to know about Obama, and it is these beliefs on which I stake my life, so this is very important to me.

I am ecstatic about all of the things he has done just the past few days. The closing of Guantanamo suggests to me that he respects the humanity of all of God's people, regardless of their sinful behavior. We should not be allowed to inflict any harm on foreign prisoners that is not allowed on our own military personnel during interrogation.

His committment to get us out of this war as fast as reasonably and responsibly possible thrills me. I have been against the war from the start (but I border on being pacifist...), and think it's about time we regain some of our international credibility by admitting that we've made countless mistakes in the Middle East and actually DOING something about correcting those mistakes.

The appointment of George Mitchell to be his Middle East envoy impresses me as well. Mitchell's record of pursuing peace in Northern Ireland with both patience and courage is impressive, as is his way of building trust of him among / between all parties, and then carrying that trust to the table for peace negoatiations. He has proven that he can negotiate talks between the most conflicted groups and find resolution. For the first time in years, I have hope for actually seeing the situation there get better over time rather than worse.

His support of same-sex relationships is in line with my own--in favor of civil unions and working towards (if you read between the lines of what he says) a time when gay marriages are legal, although we both agree that now is not that time. Also, his views on abortion and personal freedom are closer to mine. And yet his willingness to include those whose opinions differ from him, not only in his campaign and conversations, but in his inauguration ceremony, says that he is not only willing, but able, to reach across the lines of division that have so long stymied us from living into the real relationships and dialogue to which God calls us for healing and wholeness.
He seems to be in support of capital punishment, but only when tightly regulated and as a very last resort. I am totally opposed to capital punishment, so we differ on this, but at least he acknowledges that it actually does little to deter crime, and that it should only be used for the most heinous criminals.

His limitations on conflicting interests with his staff and lobbyist groups is long overdue with regard to the office of president, or any government official, in my opinion. Also, the salary cap of $100K that he has put on White House aides is long overdue as well.

Just as we teach our children to work through their problems using words and not violence, just as we teach our children to admit their mistakes, apologize, and do what they can to make it right, I think we should expect, indeed demand, the same behavior from our president. Just as we teach our children not to be greedy, to respect and care for each other no matter what differences we may have with those around us, I think we should expect, indeed demand, the same behavior from our president.

I was an Obama supporter from Day 1, and for the first time in my life, I actually gave money to political campaign and put a political candidate's sticker on my car. And even though Joel & I don't always agree on political candidates, he voted for Obama as well, believing the he was more in line with his own ideologies (especially fiscal responsibility) than Bush has been or McCain would be.

I know that no candidate is perfect, and I do not expect Obama to be the 21st century Messiah. There is only one Messiah, and it is on him that I ultimately lean, and it is his return that I ultimately await. But for the time being, while we wait for Lord's Day, I am thrilled to have someone like Barack Obama leading this country into the future.

Listen for It!

A sermon written and preached for Emory Presbyterian Church, January 18, 2008.

Hundreds of years ago, there lived a man named Eli. We don’t know much about Eli—he appears only for a few chapters here in 1st Samuel. But this is a familiar passage, and so Eli is a familiar player in the Biblical narrative.

Eli was serving as priest in the city of Shiloh, what was then the religious capital of Israel. And as tradition would have it, his sons would typically be next in line for the office of priest. However, Eli’s sons had become scoundrels, we are told in ch. 2, v. 12. They had lost respect for the office of priest. They had grown stingy, and regularly dishonored not only their father, but all of Israel by their selfish ways. As saddened as Eli was by his sons’ behavior, he knew that his family had lost favor with God. God speaks to Eli in chapter 2, beginning with verse 27. “A time is coming when I will cut off your strength and the strength of your ancestor’s family…no one in your family shall ever live to old age…and I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind.”

There also lived a young boy named Samuel. Samuel had been promised to God by his mother Hannah before he was even born, and had therefore been serving God under Eli’s watch for quite some time. But he was still young. We will read in today’s text that Samuel “did not yet know the Lord,” that God’s word “had not yet been revealed to him.” But Samuel was faithful. Samuel loved and trusted Eli, and was being taught by Eli to love and serve God.

As we will soon see, God’s new agenda becomes clear to Eli. God’s favor is coming to rest not only upon the next generation, but upon a “new house” in this next generation. God’s favor, God’s call, comes to young Samuel.

Listen as we read a portion of their story…from 1 Samuel, 3:1-20.

1Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.
2At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. 4Then the Lord called, "Samuel! Samuel!" and he said, "Here I am!" 5and ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down. 6The Lord called again, "Samuel!" Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call, my son; lie down again." 7Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. 8The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. 9Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'" So Samuel went and lay down in his place.
10Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, "Samuel! Samuel!" And Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening." 11Then the Lord said to Samuel, "See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. 12On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. 13For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. 14Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever."
15Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. 16But Eli called Samuel and said, "Samuel, my son." He said, "Here I am." 17Eli said, "What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you." 18So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, "It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him." 19As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. 20And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord.

Ahhh, young Samuel. One minute, he lay on the temple floor, snuggled under the covers, perhaps even asleep. And out of nowhere comes this voice. Upon hearing it, Samuel dutifully got up and went to Eli, as any good student would. “You called for me, Sir?” Eli replied, “No, I did not call you. Go back to bed.” So Samuel trudges back to bed, slightly confused. Again, the voice calls, and again Samuel runs to Eli. “Nope, son, not me. Go back to bed.” And yet again a third time, until finally old Eli has that a-ha moment. “It must be God calling young Samuel!” So Eli instructs him accordingly on how to respond when he hears this call again.

Samuel is indeed faithful—a dedicated student who is learning the ways of the temple from wise old Eli. But we realize in this narrative that Samuel is unable to discern this call on his own. Was it because he was young, inexperienced? Was it simply because “the word had not yet been revealed to him? Was it because he was in a sleep-induced fog? We don’t know. But we do know that three times, God called, and three times, Samuel misunderstood that call to be someone else.

God’s call is often misunderstood.

We each have our own ideas of what God is, of what it is that God does. God is wise. God loves. God is sovereign. God judges. God is faithful. God comforts. And while God is, indeed, all of these things and more, why is it so hard for us to remember that God also calls?

Why is it so hard to realize, to recognize, that the God we worship and serve does love, and is faithful, and is wise, but also calls out to us—that the God we worship is a calling God?

I forget it sometimes too. I know that God has called me to particular roles and jobs in my life, and yet I forget it on a daily basis. This notion of calling is not a new thing for God. It is this God that Samuel encounters in today’s text. It is this calling God that Eli realizes is speaking to Samuel. It is this calling God that is at work in this narrative.

On January 2nd of this year, over 1000 college students were summoned by this calling God to Montreat-- to learn more about how this God who calls is at work in their lives. There, we gathered together with others--Eagles, Bulldogs, Wildcats, Gamecocks, Seminoles, Yellow Jackets, Volunteers, Rebels, Hokies, Scotties, Gators, Commodores, and many others, from all over the Southeast. We worshipped alongside other energetic and enthusiastic college students, each of whom were eager to hear and discern how God is calling them to life.

We were surrounded by hundreds of young Christians, sharing their stories of “Outrageous Generosity,” which was the conference theme. We heard Tony Campolo, noted Christian speaker and author, speak of the difference between power and authority.

We listened with rapt attention as Representative John Lewis told his story of responding to God’s call and leading alongside many others in a movement that changed our nation.

I had the privilege of leading a small group discussion as they shared and wrestled with what it meant to “represent Christ well” on their campuses, in this nation, and in this world. I am so very blessed to be able to work with such a promising generation of leaders—not only for our country--in science, medicine, law, and business--but as Christians, leaders in the Body of Christ. It is a huge responsibility, yes, but an honor as well to be ministering with and to college students as they are beginning to find themselves and as they continue developing their own faith identity.

I am grateful for God’s call to me—to ordained ministry, and more specifically, to campus ministry—in this time and in this place. It is an awesome thing to walk alongside this next generation—one so full of energy and excitement for the things that God is calling them to do.

And if I had to narrow it down, I would have to stay that the part of my call that I take most seriously—the one that rises above all the rest—is the role that I play as one who walks with and guides them in their discernment of God’s call on their lives.

Most of you know that my husband and I are both second-career clergy. We had a “real life” for twelve years prior to beginning our seminary journey and consequently our ministries. In fact, it was a mere seven years ago this month—in January of 2002—when we turned the proverbial corner and committed to moving to Decatur for seminary. And over the past seven years, I have learned lots. But one thing that stands out is this…I have truly come to hold a deeper respect for and understanding of this calling God that we worship and serve.

You see, this whole business of “calling” is something God has been doing for eons. There are countless stories here in these pages that tell of this calling God speaking to various folks over time. Abraham, Moses, Samuel, Jeremiah, Isaiah…Mary, Elizabeth, John, Peter, Paul. And just as each of them have unique encounters with this calling God, so I, too, have my own stories about how and when and where God has called me.

But there is a serious problem with this notion of a calling God. You see, I fear that most folks reserve the call of God for people like me—folks who have been “called” into ordained ministry.
In seminary, we are often asked to “share our call story.” Ad nauseum. It’s as if we each have only one “call story,” and that the story only exists in the context of our decision to pursue ordained ministry. That is simply not true. God calls into ministry, but more importantly, God calls into LIFE, to abundant, meaningful LIFE. And that is a call that God makes to each and every one of us, each and every day.


We are—each of us, Samuels. We hear a voice, and we misunderstand. God calls to us, and we think it is someone or something else. You see, each of us, each of you sitting here today has been called--called to this place, for this time. We have been called, are being called, to specific tasks in our personal and professional lives in this crazy, mixed-up world. We have been called, are being called to follow—to follow the baby in the manger, Jesus the Christ. We have been called, are being called not simply to believe, but to become disciples.

The call comes, each and every day. Listen for it, my friends. Listen for it and follow. It will not disappoint.

We are, each of us, Eli’s as well. You see, this story is not just about Samuel. Eli’s role in this call story is crucial. Eli was there…Eli was there to help Samuel hear God’s call, to help Samuel listen for it, and to instruct Samuel how to respond. As the host congregation for PCM@Emory, you are Eli for us, supporting us as we listen for God’s call for ourselves and each other. You are Eli for others in your life as well, helping others to discern and respond to God’s call—your co-workers, your children, your neighbors, your bridge or tennis partners, your friends. Being an Eli for others is a daunting task, yet an amazing privilege.

God is calling us to be both Samuel and Eli—to listen for the call of God. Listen for it! For ourselves and for each other.

And remember…God’s call is not a one-time thing. The call of God is ongoing, constant. That’s what it means to be in relationship with God—to be in conversation with God.

Like Samuel, we often mistake God’s call for the call of the world. But if we surround ourselves with others—others like Eli--who are also listening for God’s call, then we are much less likely to miss it. Sure, it might take two or three times before we wake up and realize, “Hey, that just might be God calling me!” But the good news is that God does call, and God continues to call, whether we hear it on God’s first attempt, or God’s 41st attempt.

Listen for it, my friends. Listen for it and follow it. For it is in following God’s call that you will find peace.

Amen.

Reality Check

This past Monday afternoon around 1:30, I walked into our house after volunteering in the art room at Michael's school to discover that we had been burglarized, sometime between 10:30 AM and 1:30 PM. The first sign was the hardest one--the 40" flatscreen Sony TV that Joel had been wanting several years--the one he took an extra job as a TA (Teaching Assistant) for the semester at Emory's theology school to pay for--was gone. I walked out of the house (as one is "supposed" to do when an intruder as been in, just on the off chance that s/he is still there) and called Joel immediately, then the police, but was able to tell by looking through the window that both of our laptops were also gone. When Joel got here (note: faster than he did when I called him almost 12 years ago to tell him I was in labor with Daniel...!), we walked through together and realized they had gone through all of our drawers and stolen all jewelry of value as well, in addition to the Wii and all controllers. Apparently one person (assumed) came in through the back door (not very secure, and perhaps even unlocked, although there were signs that pointed to a possible forced entry) emptied out Adam's soccer bag, and loaded it full of our stuff, then called an accomplice to come for a quick load up. The house behind us is vacant, so we think they may have even taken the stuff out through the back door and over the fence. They could have taken so much more, but they didn't. Either didn't have time, or didn't want to bother with sterling silver or anything that wasn't a guaranteed quick, easy sale. But still...what a pain.

It's been long enough now where the sense of violation is beginning to wear off and the anger is settling in. I'm finally sleeping at night, and we have begun to replace a few things. Thankfully, most of it is either a) replaceable, or b) won't really be missed. The only thing that was hard to lose was Joel's mom's wedding ring. It was fairly valuable as well--18K and some fancy kind of etching on it. Has a name, but I'm not sure what it is. He would occasionally wear it around his neck on a thick, gold chain that was my grandmother's. We lost all of our gold jewelry, which I never wear anymore anyway, but much of it was my grandmother's, so that is a bit of a blow. The ironic thing was that my engagement ring was in the kitchen window because I had been baking bread that morning, and then went to the school to do art, so I just left the ring there. Thankfully, it was still there. Had they taken it, it would have exceeded our insurance limits on jewelry AND we would have wanted to replace it. As it is now, we can take the money we get for the jewelry and use it for a couple of much-needed home repairs / improvements, including a security system, which is the silver lining in this dark cloud.

Friends have been wonderful, offering all types of support, from prayer to computer loans to cash gifts. So as I've reflected on it, it's been a nice reminder of what really is important in life. I've missed my laptop the most, as expected. Sharing one desktop between five computer junkies is not exactly fun or easy! Computer time is rare and frustrating at the same time. I tried to replace my laptop at Best Buy on Wednesday, but realized the hard way that if you buy a Dell through Best Buy, you don't get the awesome Dell customer service. You get the crappy Geek Squad techies. There were issues at startup, and when the customer service nightmare began, I just packed the thing up and ordered from dell.com. I've already returned the one to Best Buy, narrowly winning the argument about whether or not I was obligated to pay the 15% restocking fee, and happily await my new, blazing fast, mocha brown beauty to arrive from Dell later this week.

We've also already replaced the Wii in the event that they become a "hard to find" item this Christmas as well. That made the boys happy. We're waiting on the TV until we are able to secure the house a bit better and install a security system. Typically our dog Shadow is a security system, but she had thrown up that morning, and I had crated her so she wouldn't get sick all over the house. Poor baby--I know she was going crazy--locked in her crate with a stranger going through our things. She's much more stranger-wary now than she was, and goes NUTS when anyone comes to the door. Hopefully that will subside. She's been a good watchdog for sure, but I've noticed she seems more on edge now than before. I'm just so very thankful that nothing happened to her. That would have devastated all of us.

We are recovering rather quickly, all things considered. None of us have had any feelings of being unsafe in our home, because we know that the theft was about our stuff, not about us. None of us have difficulty going to sleep at night, but if I wake up in the night, getting back to sleep as been hard because I start thinking about it and get really, really angry. But even that is finally subsiding, and life is resuming normalcy for us. All in all, we are thankful. Thankful that we are all okay. Thankful that we did have insurance that will cover most of it. And more grateful than ever for the love and support of good friends. Life goes on!

Because she hasn't had the baby yet...

Rachel, that is. My friend Rachel, who is thirty-eight and a bajillion weeks pregnant with child #2, a girl. She "tagged" me to do this thing where I'm supposed to blog about "six uninteresting things about me." It's called a meme. To quote my very pregnant friend, "For those of you who don’t know what a meme is, you can read this site that explains it in detail. Or I’ll just tell you: it’s a bunch of questions someone with a blog answers and then tags some other people with blogs and they answer the same questions and so on and so forth."

So here goes...

1. I was the third top seller of wrapping paper in our band fundraiser when I was in 7th grade. The prize was $25. I think my mom would have preferred to just give me the $25. Now that I'm a mom of fundraisers, I know how she felt.

2. I had a horse named Montana when I was 15. I boarded him with another horse, who was older than dirt, named Rebel, and used to take friends horseback riding after school & in the early morning during the summer. I sold Montana when I was a freshman in college.

3. My favorite movie of all time is St. Elmo's Fire, not so much because it was great acting, but because I just loved the movie.

4. My favorite number is 8--symmetry and all that.

5. I was one of the two drum majors of our 150 member band in high school, the Dublin High School Fighting Irish Band. I did this my junior and senior years.

6. My handiest skill is my ability to power nap. I do it best while watching afternoon PBS. I can be dead tired at 3:30, lie down on the sofa to watch some PBSKids, and be totally refreshed by 4:00. I often watch PBSKids without the kids around just so that I can nap. Some people find that odd. I don't. They are really good shows, especially Arthur, Fetch, and Cyberchase.

I am tagging Joel, David, and Marci. I don't know if they will participate or not, but I'm giving it a shot. Hope they don't let me down!

I did it.

I actually did it. I scraped the "Life is good" sticker off the back of the mom mobile. I scraped David's "God bless the people of EVERY nation" off from below my "COEXIST" sticker. (Sorry David. Maybe you can send me a new one post Nov 4th? ;-) And removed the READ sticker from Decatur's Little Shop of Stories. And I put my first EVER sticker endorsing a political candidate on my car. Obama '08.

Those who know my own personal leanings might not think that's so unusual. However, those who know the history of the political discussions in our marriage totally understand.

It is a monumental thing.

For the first few years of our marriage, it was because we often (always?) disagreed politically. And I didn't put a sticker for Clinton on my car the first time because I didn't want to ride in his car with a sticker for the opposing candidate on it. (Let it be said that I would not have put a sticker for Clinton on my car for his second term...I remember abstaining that year. Joel says I voted for him. Either way, we lived in SC at the time, so if I did vote for him, I knew it was a token vote, and that it would make no difference in the long run.) So we just agreed that stickers supporting particular candidates were off limits. Over the past few years, however, I have put "political" stickers on my car, just not any supporting candidates. It's been quite clear which way I lean. But they have been stickers that proclaim messages on which we agree, so it's been fine.

And we might agree on this upcoming election--I suspect we will. But Joel will still not openly declare who has his vote--not even to me--and given his position as pastor at Rehoboth, that's probably a good thing. He wants to see the candidates go head to head in debate and listen to what each has to say about the issues. And I respect that. He's a Myers Briggs ENTJ, and that's the way he rolls. I, on the other hand, am an ISFJ, and I roll differently. John McCain seems rather desperate, and I hated the way that he ended his speech the other night with "Fight, fight, fight, fight..." ad nauseum. (Uh, John--have you ever heard of Jesus? Put down your sword, Peter?) Sarah Palin reminds me of a south Georgia redneck, only she's dresses nicer and sounds different. My gut tells me that we differ dramatically when it comes to ideologies, and I don't need to hear them go head to head with my community organizer of choice, Barack Obama. I've supported him from day one, because I like what he says and I like how he says it. I like how he presents himself, and I trust that four years of Obama will be far better for our country than four years of McCain. It's as simple as that.

I sent for a "free one" from MoveOn.org, and it sat on the table in our kitchen for a while. (I cut the little "moveon" tagline off the bottom because I do know and respect that Joel doesn't care for that group.) Then I casually asked him if he'd be okay with my putting it on the van. He seemed nonplussed by it, and muttered something like "Sure." And it sat there through both conventions, just as I sat through both candidates' speeches. And when the balloons and confetti were all swept away, when I had heard bits and pieces of both conventions, and listened in full to both Obama and McCain, I did it.

I put the Obama sticker on the van. And it feels good.

Parenting 201

I'm not a perfect parent. Let me just say that up front. And I know that Joel & I can do the best job that we are capable of doing, and yet our sons might make poor choices that lead them down a destructive or harmful path. We don't always give them the time that they need or deserve, and we often put our own needs before theirs. But at least 350 days out of the year, they know, without a doubt, that one of us will tuck them into bed at night. They know that one of us will be there to get them off to school. They know that one of us will be there to share the evening meal with them. And they know that either of us is there at a moment's notice if they have emergency or a need that simply cannot wait. They know that. And we live that. I pray that the job we are doing has been / will be enough to keep them safe and on the "right track," and lead them into a satisfying adult life in which they find meaning in what they do, and happiness with the one/s whom they share their life.

With that said, I now quote Republican Vice-Presidential Nominee Sarah Palin: "Our beautiful daughter Bristol came to us with news that as parents we knew would make her grow up faster than we had ever planned. We're proud of Bristol's decision to have her baby and even prouder to become grandparents," Sarah and Todd Palin said in the brief statement. "Bristol and the young man she will marry are going to realize very quickly the difficulties of raising a child, which is why they will have the love and support of our entire family," they added.

Bristol Palin is 17 years old, and pregnant. Not really a newsworthy thing in today's world...unless your mother is the token female conservative on the Republican's presidential ticket. Then it's on every news website. I found out from a facebook status message.

My first thought is that I feel sorry for this young, soon-to-be-wed mother and her soon-to-be-husband. I have had friends and family members who have begun their families in a similar way, and it's not easy. And while I know that the parents are not to blame for the indiscretions of their children, I can't help but wonder what this child's life has been like for the past few years. Who has been home for her, listening to her talk about her day and sharing laughs with her as they make snacks together? Who has tucked her in at night? Who has been signing the test papers and report cards that come home from school? Who has helped her deliver fundraising purchases for her school? Who has taken her back-to-school shopping? Who has tucked her in at night? Who has picked her up from school when the nurse has called saying she's not feeling well?

Maybe the vice-presidential nominee has done all this with her daughter--who knows? But if she has indeed done all (or even some) of the above, as well as run a state government, and stayed up-to-date on world and national politics and situations, then she is, indeed, Wonder Woman.

But I doubt it.

Or maybe Todd Palin, her dad has done this...in between his training and racing in the Iron Dog snowmobiling race (as well as recovering from injuries sustained in said races), and supposedly "taking care of the kids."

I know I might get lambasted for suggesting this, but I wonder...if Sarah Palin had not been so invested in her political career, and Todd Palin not so invested in his snowmobiling (he's the reigning co-champion of the Iron Dog) would things have been different for this young, unwed mother?

When people make a decision to have children, it often means making hard choices. Having one child is hard, having three is harder, and having five, including one with Down's Syndrome, must be even harder. And while I certainly don't believe that one's decision to marry and / or become a parent means that one must surrender all of his or her own dreams or goals, neither do I believe that when once decides to marry and / or become a parent she can continue to pursue individual goals and dreams in the same way that one can as a single person. Entering into a relationship of any kind means compromise and often sacrifice--it's just as simple as that. it doesn't mean LOSING ONE'S SELF, but it does mean working together for the good of the whole--which is often not what feels best to the individual.

I find it terribly disheartening that while Sarah Palin was off pursuing a high-profile political career and promoting her socially conservative agenda (which, I'm sure, includes abstinence-only sex education), and Todd Palin was off being the champion for Alaska's blue collar workers, or off definding his Iron Dog champion title on his snowmobile, their daughter Bristol turned to her boyfriend Levi for companionship, which led to intimacy, which will now lead to marriage at seventeen (because I suspect her parents didn't present her with any other choices...), and I sadly the end, or at least the significant delay, of many of her own hopes and dreams.

Even if Palin were the Democratic VP Candidate, I'd have a really hard time voting for her because I, as a mother myself, want to put the welfare of her 17 year-old daughter over my own political leanings.

But then again...who am I to judge? I just ache for Bristol. Because a road that would have been hard enough without the media attention has been made more difficult because of Sarah Palin's choices to pursue national political service. I pray that Obama and Biden have the decency to downplay this as much as possible. It has enough damaging power on its own without them mentioning it at all.

By the way, with the DNC behind us, middle son Daniel is supporting Obama-Biden with full force now. Thank you, God!

Take Heart!

I had the honor and privilege of leading worship and preaching at North Decatur Presbyterian Church today, and thought I'd post my sermon text. I'd love any comments that readers feel inclined to leave!

"Take heart. Do not be afraid!"

Preached at N. Decatur Presbyterian Church on August 10, 2008

I spent a great deal of time at our neighborhood pool this summer. We’ve always been fortunate enough to have a place to swim in the summers, from the time our boys were tiny until now. And one of my favorite things to watch is the dance that parents do with toddlers as they try to get the comfortable in the water.

Some of them are like Adam, our oldest was. Eager to get in, but cautious. Cautious, but very trusting of Joel or me. He would stand on the edge of the water and we would hold our hands out and he would jump. Just like that. He knew he couldn’t do it alone, but he was confident that we wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He trusted us.

Some of the toddlers that I’ve watched over the years are more like our middle child, Daniel. Daniel is much more of a land creature than a water creature. As a toddler, he was always happier playing around the water, or at most, in the baby pool, than he was in the overwhelming expanse of the big pool.

He needed to feel the pool bottom under his feet while his head was still above water. Daniel was less confident in his own ability to stay afloat, and less trusting that we would keep him from going underwater when we were with him in the “big pool.” His trust in us was, I suspect, overshadowed by his own insecurity in the water.

And then there are those kids who are more like Michael, our youngest. Michael is, I am quite certain, part fish. From the time he could walk, I could not keep him away from the water. The summer before he turned two, he was forever wandering away to the big pool, leaving me frantically chasing after him, abandoning his brothers, then 3 and 5, who were happily playing in the kiddie pool.

We finally had to get one of those bathing suits with the floaties built IN so that I could manage them all around the water by myself on those hot summer days at our neighborhood pool in Greenville, SC. I realized he could swim one summer at the beach when he jumped into the water before we had a chance to get his suit on. Splash…brief moment of parental panic…wait & see.....Hey! He’s doing it!

He was so comfortable in the water that he didn’t even need to trust us. He just reveled in the refreshing freedom of being in the water.

We all have our own different comfort levels with the water, don’t we? It’s an amazing thing. Too much of water can lead to fear, uncertainty, even tragedy. Not enough water can lead to thirst, desperation, even death.

Todays’ text takes us to the water…to the rough water of the Sea of Galilee.

Matthew 14:22-33
22Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. 26But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out in fear. 27But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."

28Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." 29He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. 30But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" 31Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, " You of little faith, why did you doubt?" 32When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

The story of Jesus calming a storm is a familiar gospel story, found in some form in all four gospels. And if you follow the larger denominational news, you are aware that this “boat” analogy has been used several times over the past few years as various people attempt to speak to those of us in the pews.

Former moderator Rick Ufford-Chase told us, in 2004: "We are invited to get in the (water) with Jesus, like those disciples.” He continued by adding, "I want to be part of a church that says 'Yes' and gets into that (water) with Jesus."

In a recent open letter to congregations after the actions of the 218th General Assembly, stated clerk Gradye Parsons told us: “Get into the boat. Go across the lake. There will be a storm. You will not die."

For many, the story IS a familiar one. Perhaps even a bit overused. But Jesus calming a storm is in all four of the gospels in some form, so there must be something to it!

Three of the versions of this story—John’s, Mark’s, and here in Matthew-- acknowledge the power of Jesus to transcend the physical by walking on the water. And all four gospels tell of Jesus’ ability to direct the forces of nature by calming the storm. Likewise, all four storm accounts place Jesus in the water with his disciples, reminding us that Christ, the ultimate storm-calmer, is indeed in our midst—in the water with US.

But the account of Peter stepping out into the water found in today’s narrative is characteristic only of Matthew. So that’s what I was drawn to look at today. What is it that we can glean from Matthew’s version of this story for our lives in this time and place?

Peter and the disciples find themselves adrift in a boat, amidst rough waters.
It is nighttime.
There are waves crashing around them.
They have drifted away from the shore.
They had gotten in the boat as Jesus had commanded them in v. 22, and then he had left them.
Left them alone to go pray, of all things.

The disciples see a figure walking toward them, seemingly on the water. Jesus senses their fear and says to them, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Now, Peter, uncertain that the ghost-like figure walking toward them on the water is, in fact, Jesus, speaks up: “Lord, IF it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

IF it is you. IF. If suggests disbelief, uncertainty. Peter’s not sure that it’s really Jesus out there. But he’s willing to consider that it might be.

Peter has enough faith to know, at least initially, that if Jesus commands him to, he can walk on water.

Jesus commands him, “Come!” So Peter steps out in faith and begins to walk toward him.

But, like all disciple, Peter got distracted. He got distracted by the rough water around him, and doubt crept in.

As the doubt overcame him, he began to sink. And as sank, he called out in faith to Jesus, who caught him and got into the boat with him.

Now…we know that Peter has been marked as one of Jesus’ disciples. Peter has devoted his life to following Jesus.

Peter got INTO the boat because Jesus told him to. Peter stepped OUT on the water because Jesus told him to. In so doing, Peter is simultaneously reminded of both his own weakness, as well as God’s almighty power.

For me, at least, Peter “becomes a mirror in which (we) disciples, ancient and modern, are able to see (our)selves and take heart.” Faith requires stepping out, taking risks, yes.

But we will, from time to time, get distracted by the storm, become frightened, and begin to sink. Matthew reminds us that when that happens, God in Christ is there to catch us and remind us. To remind us who we are—doubters of little faith—and to remind us who HE is--truly the Son of God.

Matthew’s inclusion of Peter in this story provides an understanding for us of what it means to be a disciple of Christ, caught in the gap between faith and doubt. Matthew reassures us that the cycle of faith and doubt is part of what it means to be in the waters with Jesus.

Like Peter, we, too, have been marked as disciples of Christ.
We, too, have been called into the water with Jesus.
We, too, have been marked as God’s own in the waters of baptism.

In this water, we are reminded that Christ is in the midst of us. In this water, we are called to keep our sights, our focus, on Jesus Christ, the Living Word, amidst the storm of life.

In this water of baptism, we are called to trust. We are equipped with all we need to take the risks that come with stepping out in faith.

But like Peter, we doubt. We may take a few tentative steps out of the boat, in faith, but life overwhelms us. Doubt creeps in, and our faith wavers. We call out to Christ for help. And he does. He catches us and calms the storm.

And we profess our faith and our belief once again…until the storm rages again.
And we step out in faith…again.
And we doubt…again.
And we call out…again.
And Christ comes…again.
And we profess…again.

But just how comfortable are we, really, with this cycle of faith and doubt? How comfortable are we, really, with this water—the water of our baptism?

Just as toddlers do with water at the pool in the summertime, so we too react differently to this water—the water of our baptism.

Some of us are cautious but trusting. Some of us are more comfortable relying on our own devices rather than placing our trust elsewhere. And some of us revel in the refreshing freedom that we find in our baptism.

Just how comfortable are we being in the water with Jesus? How comfortable are we stepping OUT in faith, trusting that Christ is in our midst? How comfortable are we in the midst of the storm with our focus honed on Jesus the Christ?

Wherever you find yourself this morning, remember that Christ is present.

Christ is present here in this denomination as we struggle with living into who God is calling us to be, and how God might make us One in Christ.

Christ is present here in this church family amidst the storms of transition and uncertainty.

Christ is present with each of us as we weather the various storms of life—transitions, disappointments, worries, fears, joys, sorrows, losses, illnesses… Christ is here, in the boat with us.

Jesus Christ, Immanuel, God WITH us is here in the water with us.

Christ is with us in the water, and promises to deliver us safely to our destination.

We are in water with Jesus.
We will reach our destination.
There will be a storm.
We will not die.

And he says to us, “Take heart. Do not be afraid!”

Thanks be to GOD for the waters of our baptism that mark us as belonging to God and call us to faith in God and God alone.

As we move forward from this place today, we go knowing that storms may come. But we also go knowing that our confidence and trust is in the one who both calms the storms and leads us into God’s future with hope.

July 11, 1996

No, that’s not a typo. Twelve years ago today, the world lost (in bodily form, anyway) one if its most quirky, witty, and caring members. I’m thinking of you today, Hunter, and need you to know that.

Although your death was imminent that hot summer day in 1996, it still felt like the ground had been knocked out from underneath me when the nurse told me over the phone. Mom and Dad had gone home for an overnight to get haircuts and some fresh clothes—preparing for the influx of Atlanta Olympic athletes and fans soon to hit the city. The nurse’s station had to call Ellen for the name of another family member, but wouldn’t tell her what was going on. In retrospect, I’m sure she knew, but she called me at home to tell me that I needed to call the nurse’s station. “Mr. Patterson expired in his sleep last night.”

Deep breath. Not enough air. Another deep breath. I can’t breathe. God help me.

I called Joel for strength, then called Tom and Calli to let them know they should check in with Mom and Dad soon. And then I called and told my parents that you were gone--probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my 42 years.

But you aren’t gone, and you never will be. Even now, twelve years later, I know you are “with” us. Soaring by on the wings of the neighborhood hawk at times when we need it most, or even just to say hello on an ordinary day—reminding us to stop and enjoy the life that is now. You gave much to us when you were with us, and continue to give to us even now, entering into our daily conversations and our family gatherings, your absence louder than your presence, if that’s possible.

The only lingering, overwhelming sadness that I have now, twelve years later, is that our children—your nieces and nephews—don’t have you in their lives like we wish they did. I know in my heart of hearts that you can see them, and that you know them. But as hard as I have tried to keep you alive for them, I cannot. On the rare occasions they do speak of you, it’s as if you were some oversized, historic figure, not the uncle that I know you wish you could be. There are many reasons why your death seemed unfair, but that one hurts the most.

I wish I could hear you tell me what life is like on the other side. I’m sure it’s far bigger than we can possibly imagine. I wish I knew for sure that we’ll be together again—that our children will have the chance to really know you. But I don’t. While I do know and trust that all is well, and that all WILL be well, I don’t dare imagine death in my mind, lest I limit it to worldly knowledge. But I think I do know, deep within me, that you are still with us. You live on in us—in our memories, in our hearts, and in our lives. Not only through Mom and Dad and Tom and Calli and me, but through the countless number of people whose lives you touched.

You live on in and through and around us. But I sure do wish you were still here. I miss you, brother. See you on the flip side.

Love,
Your Baby Sister