that look!

If only we could remember the look on our faces when we were baptized... (for those of us baptized as infants) Sunday morning's baby came with mouth wide open in happy surprise, and eyes looking up, as if asking, "Where is that wonderful water coming from? How did I get so lucky to get this treat today?!" Radiant inner joy! Of course, there are those who scream at the heavens, and those who simply endure in silence. The theological personalities of each are significant: we revel in the promises of new life; we must be dragged from seductive sin into Christ's holiness; there is much to ponder as we make this journey.

I am grateful to celebrate and accompany these moments with our newest members. Grateful, too, for those who made promises on my behalf, and grateful to make promises myself on the behalf of others.

yet again

I'm a fan of Christ coming to save all of creation. I'm not so much a fan of all of creation literally sitting at the Communion Table. This week, at their owner's invitation, an old dog was served the broken body of Christ. (The second such occurrence in my career when I have served home communion.) As my mouth fell open, I tried to remember the Psalms of creation clapping its hands, mountains singing, and rivers rejoicing. I believe that God redeemed every rock and tree, every iguana and gnat. But something about their sitting around the Table just doesn't feel right...

Lifeline alert

Delivering home communion recently, I found myself in a circle of older women. Our hostess, whom I will call "Alberta", was mostly deaf with a dead hearing aid battery. As I was breaking the bread (officially "the fracture"), Alberta's phone rang. Set on its loudest possible ring, everyone jumped in their seats then tittered while she searched high and low for the receiver. It quickly became apparent that Lifeline was testing its process. Alberta was instructed through a separate receiver/speaker to press the button around her neck. Unfortunately, she could not hear their instructions. So, holding the bread and wine in each hand, I yelled across the circle for Alberta to "PUSH THE BUTTON". She refused. "THAT'S ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES," she screamed back. "NO!" I said, "PUSH THE BUTTON NOW." The other ladies nervously watched the exchange repeated several times. They were caught in the decorum of respecting the hostess, yet hearing contradicting instructions. Finally, I took Alberta's button and pushed it myself. "We will now contact emergency services. Please stand by for assistance," said Lifeline. "NO!" Alberta screamed. "YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!" Still with bread and wine in hand, I sheepishly tried to explain that Lifeline had said to push the button. Everyone was aghast. No one moved. Silence descended. Everyone sent pointed looks in my direction. Then, over Lifeline's speaker, "Alberta, are you ok?" Again, she could not hear them to answer, so I responded for her. They demanded I identify myself, but quickly proceeded to say that it was a real test. We had done the right thing. The ladies all breathed a sigh of relief as Lifeline hung up. Again, silence. And, still holding the Communion elements in hand, I thought about how to possibly reclaim sacred space... so, I simply said, "Jesus Christ, the True Life Line..." Ugh.

for a beloved friend...

Vashti H. Flannagan, old soul and cantankerous cat, joined the yard triumphant on Thursday, June 10, 2010. Having lived a full life (fuller than we will ever know), she celebrated her twentieth birthday at least twice. Vashti was an active member of the Act Like a Pillow party, the Grow Huge Hairballs club, and the Early Morning Soliloquy Society. She is survived by an adoring sister, Addie, an estranged roommate, Esther, and two overly involved caregivers, Katie and Meg. A private service will be held followed by a savory salmon feast. In lieu of flowers, adopt an old cat from a shelter.

The following poem was found in Vashti’s favorite cushion:
There was an old cat named Vashti
Who lived secret lives – definitely!
She talked every day
‘til in the face, grey,
Wondering why no one heard clearly.

Why didn’t they appreciate
The things she’d sit and contemplate?
Ignoring her voice;
Instead hearing noise.
So she decided she’d vacate.

Adventures awaited afar…
She’d dreamed of being a star
Something dramatic,
Leaning dogmatic,
To tell all the wonders there are.

Poem as prayer

I love poetry! Here's a great one I read today...

"Song" (by Adrienne Rich)
You're wondering if I'm lonely:
OK then, yes, I'm lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean.

You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely

If I'm lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawn's first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep

If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning.

Is a compliment a compliment?

I'm not good at accepting unexpected compliments, compliments that point to an undesirable truth, or back-handed compliments. They're awkward. And while it would be much easier to say, "thank you" and walk away, I feel compelled to interpret them and even argue with the giver. Recent such words have suggested that I might be a great children's minister, my sermons are not from the internet, and I've grown so much (professionally speaking). Each of these is a nice idea, but none of them were in aggreement with my current viewpoint. Each of these seemed to be spoken as a trying-to-point-me-in-a-new-direction kind of way. And if that is the case, are these actually compliments? If the speaker is trying to change someone, is it really a compliment?

To love or not to love: THAT is the question

... whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer...

I am wondering if it is possible to un-love someone. It seems that if you truly love someone/thing/people it would be impossible to un-love them. Of course, love changes over time. The love felt for someone may blossom into compassion or concern, but I don't think that it is possible to scoop out the love you once had and throw it away.

Considering this from the famous 1 Corin 13 text that states, "Love never ends... [prophecies] will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end..." Paul seems to move to a place that true love (from God) is the one eternal piece we have in the world. This gives me hope; however, I wonder how many people ever experience such true Godly love in their lives. Not many, I'm afraid. Most, if not all, of our relationships are filled with limited love. I realize the disparity between God’s love and our “fast-food-get-it-how-you-like-it” love on earth. It fills us up temporarily, but leaves us longing for more. We are used to being loved poorly, loved conditionally, loved incompletely. We are used to love as a competitive sport and unrequited love. We are used to being rejected when we’ve gained too much weight, or sent away when we’re in a bad mood, or manipulated when we aren’t doing as another hoped.

But even in our limited ways, I think that our hearts cling to fragments of love and try to carry them through trials, troubles, and terrors. The most atrocious historical figures had people who loved them. Is this good news? How do you negotiate relationships that change and move away from love? Does that undermine the love you had? Was it ever truly love?