Fishing on Sabbatical

     Today was an emotional day - one of those days when nothing that I had planned happened.  Underneath all the unexpected shifts, there was a tangible sense that the Holy Spirit had showed up to direct the day.  God was speaking and I was trying to listen.  I was feeling like there was a break through - a break through in the numbness - in the sense of restlessness, in the sense of direction.  This sabbatical was finally starting to mesh.
    And then the most idyllic fishing boat passed right along the lakeside of the house.  I went out to fully take in the majesty of the evening moment.  Sun setting.  Nice boat rigged out with two different motors.  Two happy fisher persons on board.  Even the loon family that likes to frequent the front of our house was there to take in the action.  I went out to the deck to get a closer look, to view, to breathe in this perfect moment that was showing me that all the unexpected changes to my planned events were really a divine act of God.  This was my moment of revelation.  God is here.  God is shining on us all.  
    And then they hit a snag -  right in front of our house.  Suddenly there was a  lot of commotion on this idyllic fishing boat.  The guy at the motor was waving and adjusting.  The person in the orange vest was pointing and obviously upset.   And me - from my upper deck top view -  I was just sad.  What happened to idyllic?  What happened to easy?  What happened to divine revelation?
     I went back in to the house. My God moment had passed and it wasn’t the picture perfect view that I had imagined.  Along with disappointment, there was a bit of anger.  Internally I said, “Come on God.  You could have at least given me this fishing fantasy as a metaphor for life right now!” Inside the house, the sadness reigned again.
    Within a few minutes, they were in sight again.  Over there by another shore, I could see that same fishing boat with the same person in an orange vest.  They were trolling along - still fishing - still enjoy the scenery and the sport.  Before long, they were back in front of the house - and then in the very same spot where they had the snag.  From what I observed, they were  trolling along, moving through the waters, continuing to fish the lake and enjoy whatever happened as part of the experience.  My internal dialogue, however, was different.  “What? Are they crazy to come back here again?  Why would they take that risk?” And then with deeper reflection,   Is this why Jesus used fishing in so many stories?  Perhaps there is something I need to learn about the perseverance and resilience of fisher persons.  
    For me, fishing always brings back memories of my parents. I love the water but when my dad took me fishing, I preferred to read a book in the boat.  There were too many expectations - too many disappointments - too many entanglements.  As a teen, it felt better for me to delve into the world of romantic fantasy than to face all those challenges. Even today,  I have to admit that my desire is often to escape (Thank you Hallmark Channel for making it easy) But the question that consumes me today, is what am I missing?  … perhaps those who persevere… who face off with the snags… who figure out the entanglements.  Sometimes we need to cut the line, even if it means grieving the loss of a good bait.  Sometimes we need to put something new on the hook and throw the line in again.  Sometimes we need to trust that the fish are there but the conditions are not right so we can try again in the morning.   Fisher persons are people who persevere… who trust… and sometimes bring in a great catch.
    Maybe, after all, this was a God moment and a good day - for people who fish and people who watch them.
 

Hope

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,”  I Peter 1:3

 

            There have been times over the last 7 weeks when I have said to myself, “I just have to hang in there until... until the Covid-19 curve flattens... until things are normal again... until we can all get back to church... until the weather gets nicer.”   I realized in these thoughts I was putting my energy into hoping for something in the future rather than living fully in the present moment with hope.  There’s a difference.  

            When I was a hospice chaplain, I often found myself helping people to redefine hope.  Hope meant cure, meant getting back to normal, meant holding on for the good days again.  With a prognosis of 6 months or less to live, some people needed to shift their understanding of hope - to find hope in the midst of circumstances they never would have imagined.

            It can be challenging to experience hope when it isn’t tied to an outcome, a positive feeling or the sense that it will all get better in the future.  Hope, however, is also a way of being. It is something that weaves its way into daily life, helping us to accept what is and live without despair.   One author refers to this as the distinction between “ordinary hope” and “mystical hope” and makes the following observations:

•   Mystical hope is not tied to a good outcome, to the future. It lives a life of its own, seemingly without reference to external circumstances and conditions.

•   It has something to do with presence—not a future good outcome, but the immediate experience of being met, held in communion, by something intimately at hand.

•   It bears fruit within us at the psychological level in the sensations of strength, joy, and satisfaction: an “unbearable lightness of being.” But mysteriously, rather than deriving these gifts from outward expectations being met, it seems to produce them from within. *

            As much as I would like to, I can’t conjure up that kind of hope.  We ourselves are not the source of that hope, but the source dwells deeply within us and flows to us with an abundance, so much so that in fact it might be more accurate to say we dwell within it.  Today, you and I can dwell in hope, regardless of our situation, as we journey toward the center, to the innermost ground of our being where we meet and are met by God. 

*Adapted from Cynthia Bourgeault, Mystical Hope: Trusting in the Mercy of God

Personal Mantras

I vividly remember the day.  It was July 1990.  I was in the pristine parsonage kitchen with white tile floors and white wallpaper in Quincy, Massachusetts.  Kirk and I were co-pastoring but he was gone in order to be “pastor of the week” at our church Bible camp.  This meant that I was the solo pastor at church and at home with our 20 month old and 4 month old sons.  It was supper time and both were crying to be fed, one in his high chair throwing everything on the white tile floor and the other in his baby seat, hysterical by my lack of attention.  It was then that it came to me - a mantra that has kept me sane from then and until now.   “I am a sea of calm in a world of chaos.”   I remember saying it.  I remember shouting it.  I remember singing it - on that day when I picked up food off the floor and got some favorite finger food on the highchair tray,  while I tried to calm myself in order to feed the other son,  and on many other occasions since then.   “I am a sea of calm in a world of chaos.”   After a few years of saying this to myself, I could even visualize stormy waves turning in to still waters -the waters receding and gentle ripples just lapping at the shores of my life.

I believe in the power of personal mantras.  They are a way to guide us - to give us focus when the world seems to be out of control.   There have been many times in my last 30 years that my perspective has been turned around by this particular phrase. “I am a sea of calm in a world of chaos.” I have said it over and over again to myself until it became true.   At some point, I would suggest that everyone create their own personal mantra that fits for them and they can claim for a lifetime of situations.

This, however,  is a new season in my life.   I no longer have children in high chairs or baby seats screaming for attention.  I still want to abide in peace and calm but I am beginning to have a new mantra.  It is less familiar and I’m not sure if I even like it but I’m trying it out.  “It is good to learn new things.”   Like the old one, I have to say it over and over again to myself.  I’ve shouted it a few times.  I’m trying to learn to sing it, often with a bit of disbelief and skepticism.  When I’m visiting people at windows with a white board for conversation, I say to myself, “It is good to learn new things.”  When I’m uncertain about how all this social media thing works, I say to myself, “It is good to learn new things.”   When I’m setting up my new laptop computer because my old one is too archaic to run all the programs I currently need at home, I say to myself. “It is good to learn new things.”  When I consider what the future might mean, I say to myself, “It is good to learn new things.”

Yes, there are days - days when I say to God, “What are you doing?  I thought I had 5 to10 more years before all these changes would be happening in ministry?”   Days when I say to God, “Why is this happening now and what am I supposed to be doing with my limited talents and resources?”  And in those days and others I am learning to say, “It is good to learn new things!”  God is always stretching us and we are always growing.  That is the nature of the Christian life.  Whether you need to be a sea of calm in a world of chaos or need to learn to new things in a changing world, God is with us.   Speak your personal mantra into the situation and above all else say, “Thanks be to God!!”

God Provides in Unexpected Ways

Today is one of those days that is a testimony to how God gives us what we need, even when we don’t know what it is and haven’t asked for it.

Ten years ago today my mother died.  For the last year, I have thought from time to time about what this day might mean.  Three months ago, I decided I would spend it just like any other Saturday with some usual responsibilities but then plans shifted and I ended up with the day completely free.  I took that as I sign that I ought to be more intentional about marking the day. I needed some internal and external work done.  This week I decided I would clean the attic.  It seemed fitting.  My mom was always trying to get organized and get rid of things but had a hard time actually getting it done - a trait that I definitely inherited.  It would be a fine way to remember her and accomplish some needed work.  I would also spend time journaling and trying to process some of the emotions and regrets that I associate with being a daughter and a mother.   I had it planned. I was going to do what I thought I needed to do.

And then things started to happen. I was swept up by relationships and gratitude in unexpected ways. 

Yesterday, two dear friends came to town and we spent the afternoon talking about life - theirs and mine.  I laughed as only I can do when I am with them.  After they left, I remembered that 10 years ago they brought supper to our house as my mother lay dying in the next room.  One of them came back to sit with my mom so I could get some sleep and just before I was going to take my shift at midnight she woke me up to come downstairs and be with my mother as she took her last breaths in the new day’s  dawning.  That kind of bond and friendship is unique.  They had no idea of the significance of yesterday  but I was so grateful that they were there to share it with me.

While I wanted to hide away today, I thought it would be good to start the Saturday as I usually do with the only parents I have in this world - my in-laws. Our weekly breakfast ironically turned in to a celebration of what it means to be family as “slakt to slakt” (Swedish for clan to clan) connections were confirmed.  At the other end of the table,  I sat next to the man who provided pastoral care for my mother in her last months and was there as support to me when both my parents died.  He did not know the significance of the day but I quietly gave thanks to God for all the ways he has been present to care for those in need, including me.  He and his wife are family to me.

This morning our daughter unexpectedly showed up at the house with tulips and pussy willows.   I cried, as only I can do when I am with her.  She got up early and drove for hours in order to spend a few hours with me on a hard day.  We talked, we shopped, we ate Taco Tico - all the things we do as mother and daughter.  She even helped me sort the attic.  When she left I realized that perhaps all the self loathing and regrets I had anticipated to pour out in my journaling were maybe not as bad as it had seemed at the beginning of the week.  I am not perfect but I am forgiven.  I am not enough but who I am is enough.

Tonight our son and his wife showed up unexpectedly for supper.  They were passing through and when they found out the significance of the day they decided to stop.  It was a delight to see them and celebrate how our family has enlarged in the years since my mother’s death.  She would be so delighted in her new grandchildren.  They would have been loved by a woman who had so much love to give.  

Intentionally or unintentionally, I received blessings beyond my anticipation or control.  I did not know what I needed today.  I thought I had it figured out but the Holy Spirit provided in ways beyond my imagination.  Thanks be to God for the gifts of family and friends in joy and in sorrow. 

Live Life to the Fullest... and...

I’m in an in between spot in life.  I opened up a package of 100 count tea candles that we bought at IKEA this weekend and as I dumped them in the drawer I caught myself thinking,  “Well, I guess there will be leftover tea candles when I die.”  In recent months I’ve noticed that when Kirk is encouraging me to buy something my usual answer is, “Why should we?  It will just be another thing that the kids will put in the dumpster when we are dead.” 

So, what does it all mean?  It is possible that I am fatalistic with all my years of ministry in death and dying. I am too young to be focused on death unless I am rehearsing tragedy in order to cover up my feelings of vulnerability for the future.   It might be that I am a realist, knowing that the things of this life are temporary and that my millennial generation children have no interest in the “treasures” that their parents or grandparents have hung on to in order to leave a lasting legacy for the future.  Or it might be that I am somewhere in between. 

In the in between, I am trying to figure out what it means to live in the second half of life -  to be realistic about the future but also to fully engage with what is present.  I know friends who are counting the days until retirement, planning for all the possibilities, and looking forward to a life that may or may not come to fruition.   And I have friends who want to deny that they are aging, that there are changes ahead and don’t want to think about it until it is forced upon them.  I guess all are valid approaches but I’m not sure where it is that I am at - in this in between. 

Mostly, I have decided that I might be missing the present.  That would be unfortunate.  Sure, it is not all great.  There are challenges.  But the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence and it irritates me when people keep glancing over there and thinking that they don’t have to deal with what is the here and now.  It also makes me nervous to make too many plans about the future when we all know that life can change in an instant. 

What a gift we are given - each day, each person, each event, - even each tea candle that I light.  I want to be fully engaged in the present and to be thankful that I am alive to be part of whatever is happening right now in my life.  I don't know what the future holds.  All I know that God has placed me here in this place, at this time, and I want to do my best.  What a gift! What a joy! Why would I spend my time worrying about the unknowns and miss the opportunities that are right before me.  

At the same time, a favorite book of mine is Soul Salsa by Leonard Sweet.   One of the chapters is entitled, “Bounce Your Last Check” and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.  He says, “We are all going to die.  Many of us are living as if we are immortal, but we are all going to die.  The only question is, what will we leave behind when we die?  If you dance the ‘soulsalsa’ in this new millennium, you will leave nothing behind.  By the time you die, you will have given away whatever you have. Time it so that the last check bounces... To bounce one’s last check is to die vertical, not horizontal.  To die vertical is to take a stand and to declare your values even when you die.  To die horizontal is to allow others to declare your values for you and to let them take whatever stands they want to take with your money...” 

It is an interesting combination of thoughts  - and I am “in between.”” I’m trying to figure out how to live life - to live it to the fullest, right now, in whatever God gives to me.  And at the same time to prepare for the future realizing that the lasting legacy may not be the amount of tea candles in a drawer or CDs in the bank but how we live our lives and our values  for generations to come.     

Investing in 2018

For some people the turn of the new year is about resolutions.  I used to be one of those people.  Each year I would make a list of new year's resolutions. By mid- January,  I would admit defeat.  All of the resolutions had been broken and I would just go on aimlessly through the year.  Then, I discovered the idea of picking one word for a focus for the year  It is not perfect,  but 100% better for my personality than a list of resolutions.    It is a way to orient and re-orient myself to - (not a disappointing goal like exercising more) -  but to  a thought process that can carry me through the year.  I've been using this as a kind of spiritual discipline for several years.  Each new year is met with anticipation and a bit of anxiety about what the "word" might be. 

"So, what is your word this year, mom?" was the question posed by my daughter this weekend.  It pushed me toward that dreaded decision.  The first few years it was easy.  While I really like this discipline, for the last couple of years it has been harder.   What do I really want to focus on this year?  What will bring me back to my grounded center when I start to stray?  Where do I want to put my energy in  2018?

And so here it is -  INVEST - is my word for 2018.  I don't like it because it seems to have some kind of financial implications.  I don't mean it that way, but I haven't found a better word.   I considered some synonyms like "value" or "intentional" but they seemed more inclined toward simply thinking about something or someone.  Invest takes initiative.  It means action, not simply thinking about something or someone.  The question for 2018  is 'how will I invest my energy, my talents, my blessings this day?"  Everyday we are given 24 hours.  Each effort - each hour - each action is an investment, - but where, how, in whom?  Have I invested the minutes of my day in the most important people in my life?  Where could I invest more energy in order to do my part in building the kingdom of God?   These are the questions that I am excited to face in 2018.

On this new year's day, I pray that you will find a way to invest in the future and that God will guide you to a focus and a purpose for this year.

The Slow Work of God

Saunter is a word which has its origin in the Middle Ages.  When people were on pilgrimages to different holy places, and would pass through towns along the way, villagers would ask where they were going.  They would reply, "A la sainte terre,"  - to the Holy Land.  They became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers.  Thus,  a slower and more reflective pace has often been associated with a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Yesterday, we started our day at the top of Masada.  It is what remains of a vast palace fortress with an equally vast history.  Built by the slaves of King Herod, it is hard to fathom the amount of slow, back breaking work it took not only to build the walls but also to bring water to this high mountain plateau.  Historically, Masada was also the home to 960 Jewish Zealots who watched for over a year while the Roman legion slowly built a siege ramp, tower and battering ram in order to overtake them in 73 A.D.  Instead of being taken captive, this group of extremists chose to die by their own hand at Masada.  It is both an awe inspiring and somber place.  There was a lot to see and so some of our group went quickly from place to place and then hiked down the mountain side "snake path" to the bottom.  Others in our group took a slower more deliberate pace.

Our devotions for the day included this quote from Albert Palmer, "There are people who "hike" though life.  They measure life in terms of money and amusement, they rush along the trail of life feverishly seeking to make a dollar or gratify an appetite.  How much better to "saunter" along this trail of life to measure it in terms of beauty and love and friendship.  How much finer to take time to know and understand the men and women along the way, to stop a while and let the beauty of the sunset possess the soul, to listen to what the trees are saying and the songs of the birds, and to gather the fragrant little flowers that bloom all along the trail of life for those who have eyes to see!"

As I "sauntered" around Masada, I was struck by the idea that perhaps our God who "is a mighty fortress" is also more inclined to move slowly.  We expect instant results.  We want things to happen - now!  And yet our God is always at work, sometimes with quick results but more often in slow, inconceivable, invisible ways.  Whether we hike or saunter through life, there is also the slow work of God that is happening in us and around us.  I have often become impatient with the slow work of God.  I like quicker results.   Yet the older I get the more thankful I am that God also never stops working.   A trip like ours to the Holy Land can be an intense fast few days.  At the same time, the growth, the learning, the openness to new ideas are all part of the slow work of God that will continue for years to come.