Love Boats, Life Boats, Glitter and Marriage

Quoting from an article called “Lasting Love” by Frank Honeycutt: “In his classic book The Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck writes: ‘Of all the misconceptions about love, the most powerful and pervasive is the belief that “falling in love” is love.’” Frank goes on to say “Falling in love is nice. Romance is fun. But it alone won’t sustain a marriage. All too soon one learns things about a new husband that weren’t known before – things that will drive a person nuts if you think about them too hard. All too soon one discovers wacky facets of a new wife’s personality that were never really noticed when dating.” The article continues: “Just before he died, Jesus gave some powerful advice to his disciples. It’s about the best advice that couples can hear too. Jesus said: ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another’ (John 13.34) The little word ‘as’ in this context may be the most challenging in the entire Bible. The love Jesus describes here is less like a Hallmark card and more like a cross. The best marriages in know are marked by a love that looks quite a bit like a cross – love that is sacrificial, that gives to another from the very core of your being, love where a spouse is willing to die for the other. A strong marital relationship is less about elusive and ever-changing ‘feelings’ and more about actions: a willingness to set aside my agenda, my need to be right all the time, my hesitancy to forgive.”

Frank’s article appeared in the The Lutheran magazine in June 2003. I still have my original copy of the magazine. I quoted from the article for the first time at Melissa & Larry Hall’s wedding. The pages are brown now and have glitter stuck to them (I distinctly remember glitter at Melissa & Larry’s wedding). I quote from it at just about every wedding where I preach. It’s powerful. It’s honest. Marriage is challenging…no matter who you are.

 

Today, Cliff and I have been married 13 years. I don’t know whether or not there is an appropriate gift for a couple’s thirteenth wedding anniversary…

Depending on the day, perhaps a “Love Boat” extravaganza cruise (with Gopher, Isaac, Capt. Stubing, Julie, the whole gang! And glitter!)…Others days, a lifeboat would be the most appropriate gift.

I still have a lot of work to do; especially on that “set aside my agenda, and need to be right all the time, and hesitancy to forgive” part.

I think of my less-than-stellar-at-all-times service as wife (makes me think of how Christ must feel as “spouse” of the church…That’s in scripture somewhere, isn’t it?), and I thank God for all of you who have cheered, and supported and prayed us through to this point in our journey.

Mostly though, I thank God for Cliff and for his sacrificial love and his continual forgiving of the “wacky facets” of my personality that keep surfacing.

May the glitter of our wedding day stick to the pages of our life and love through the best and worst of all that is to come.

 

Confessions of a Borderline Cynic

Okay…Here’s one…

My secretary (my “protector”) stuck her head through my door about a week ago and said something like: “There is a man out here who would like a moment of your time.”

I said, “Who is it?”

She said, “I don’t know.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know…Wants to talk to you.”

My first (cynical) thought is that someone has come seeking assistance…and (I am embarrassed to admit) that I had to take a deep breath followed by an audible sigh before I said, “well, okay.”

Then she said, “Oh yeah! He’s the father of one of our preschoolers.”

Then I thought, “Oh no…I knew it was always possible! An estranged father who wants to get/nab/take his kid! What is the protocol? What is the protocol?”

I took a deeper breath…“Okay…I’ll come to him” (That way I wouldn’t get trapped in my office.).

I was more than a little flustered.

He said, “Hey, Pastor. We’ve never met. But my son Thomas (who goes to your preschool) has been coming to VBS here for a few years. My wife and I always wanted to make a donation to that ministry…we just never could. But, we came into some extra blessings. So, here!” And he put a check in my hand for $500.00.

 

Here’s another…

Yesterday, the weather was horrid (it is today, too!)…But I had promised I’d make a visit to Mary.

As I sat in my car in the parking lot of the skilled nursing/rehab center where she is, I was finishing up a conversation on my phone. While I was in that conversation, my phone started ringing with another call.

I hung up with the first, got out of the car, called the second while I was walking in to see Mary and said, “I’m just calling to ask if I can call back in about 30 minutes…I’m just walking in the door to do a visit (“do a visit”…as if it is something I bestow/distribute/hand out/control! Pitiful. Cynical.).”

I said, “It will be real quick!”

An hour and a half later, I walked out with a goofy-shaking-my-head kind of look on my face.

Mary is very weak and very small and old.

I can’t remember now, but I think she took a fall that landed her in the hospital, then subsequently into this rehab facility.

As a younger woman, Mary was a concert pianist.

She graduated from the Oberlin Conservatory.

Her hands are gnarled now…But she loves to talk about her favorite/least favorite/most challenging piece of music/professor/conductor/performance.

Her hands have been unusable since I’ve known her.

I’ve never heard her play.

That makes me sad.

In any case, when I went in she let me know that, the day before, Marilyn brought her a Worship Bulletin from church.

She said, “Baptism of Our Lord…” I bet it was beautiful!

I said “It was” (and it was).

I looked on her bed-table and saw it, then said, “Did Marilyn bring you this new Word in Season, too?”

She said, “Yes, but I can’t hold it. And I hate to ask a nurse to just read it to me.”

I said, “I’ll read it” (even though...cynical…I don’t read Word in Season with any regularity…I always imagined it too “quaint” for my sophisticated palate! Ends up…I was wrong…Shocking!).

I took another deep breath (secretly feeling like I am being a good and benevolent pastor…Cynical and condescending!!! Nice.) and read yesterday’s (Jan. 12) entry.

I didn’t “pre-read,” I just took off reading.

The very first thing on the page: “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.”

She said, “Read that again.”

Then, she chuckled and said “I know how that feels.”

I finished the day’s reflection with the prayer that is provided:

“Keep me connected with the things that matter today, and don’t let fear (or, in my case cynicism) keep me from extending my heart in love. Amen.”

This time I chuckled!

When I finished reading, she said, “Would you mind reading another?”

I ended up reading all the way back to the beginning of the year…All the while, my mind vacillating between the thoughts: “Oh, my word…This is Holy, holy ground! Be present to this blessing. Be present to this blessing!” and “Sara, you are such an obnoxious, cynical idiot! Thanks be to God for Mary’s fingers that forced you to stop and be care-full!” Then I started thinking about the place in scripture where I think it is Paul who says something about ‘God’s power being made perfect in our weakness.’ Something like that anyhow.

 

I could recall at least a dozen more cynical-shattering moments over the past week (I need a lot of them!)…but this blog is already getting too long…So, come visit, and we’ll share a cup of coffee and swap stories.

 

As we were watching the National Championship game last night, Cliff (my husband) – for no reason that I can remember, probably a commercial that came on, or something – said something like, “How do you keep from being constantly cynical” (Notice…he did not say, “How do you keep from being cynical?”… but “How do you keep from being constantly cynical?”)? I chuckled again.

Here is my confession, dear reader(s): I preach a really, really good sermon on the persistence of light shining in darkness…But, sometimes, the darkness seems so deep…and – if we are honest – easier…right? (I don’t know if that makes sense.).

It’s just easier to assume the worst.

It’s just easier to have defenses up all the time.

It’s easier to fall into cynicism.

 

I answered Cliff, “I don’t know.”

Then I remembered that the man who came in to give me that check, used an Ohio State check (big ol’ buckeye watermark thing on it!), and I remembered that I had forgotten to tell Cliff about that day! So, I told him.

Then, I said, “I don’t really know…I guess I get paid to be constantly on the lookout for God (probably a cynical sentiment). It’s a pretty good gig if you can get it!”

 

Then that blasted Word in Season prayer fell into my head again: “Keep me connected with the things that matter today, and don’t let fear (cynicism) keep me from extending my heart in love. Amen.”

 

Some days are easier than others, you know.

And some days, it takes gnarled hands to show us the light.

Strange isn’t it?

 

Into the immediate more immediate embrace of God

A while ago, we “adopted” this song as our Family Song.

 

How We Love ~ Beth Neilson Chapman

 

Life has taught me this
Every day is new
And if anything is true
All that matters
When we're through
Is how we love

Faced with what we lack
Some things fall apart
But from the ashes new dreams start
All that matters to the heart
Is how we love

How we love
How we love
From the smallest act of kindness
In a word, a smile, a touch

In spite of our mistakes
Chances come again
If we lose or if we win
All that matter in the end
Is how we love

How we love
How we love
I will not forget your kindness
When I needed it so much

Sometimes we forget
Trying to be so strong
In this world of right and wrong
All that matters when we're gone
All that mattered all along
All we have that carries on
Is how we love

 

 

 

At about 9:45 tonight, Mom fell into the more immediate embrace of God’s Love. Dad and all three of her children were with her ~ loving her, just like she taught us.

 

The Narthex of Heaven and Thin Places

Two weeks ago today, the cadre of family who were in town, made the trip to the doctor’s office to get the latest “scan results.” We sat together as the doctor told my mother (who was sitting in a wheelchair and holding my father’s hand): “The medicine isn’t working anymore.” We all knew it was coming.

When my mother asked, in slurred speech, “that means I’m dying, then?” the doctor answered “Not today…but yes.”

Hospice contacts were made, and a couple days later, we moved Mom out of rehab and back to her and Dad’s apartment.

When the hospice bed arrived, dad had it set up in their bedroom. We raised it to the same level as “their” bed, and took the inside guard rail down, and now they sleep as they have for more than 56 years…side by side.

My siblings and I have been taking 48-hour shifts, sitting together with Dad through this end-of-this-life journey. Talking about the privilege of it all and noticing all the “thin spaces” between heaven and earth.

Yesterday, my friends Sue and Peter came and visited my folks…Later in the day, Sue emailed me and said that “Tommie is in the narthex of heaven.” (Translation? “Tommie is in the foyer of heaven.”).

Sue is the one who reminded me of “thin spaces.”

I see them everywhere right now.

I see thin spaces in my siblings who have simply been present, daring to walk right into the face of death and carry patient, gentle, exhausted, enduring, no-matter-what love.

I see thin spaces in my children – who climb in bed beside Granny and rub her head and, in their quietest “library voice” tell her about their day, with absolute tenderness and “naturalness” – even though she doesn’t respond. “But, mom she can still hear us.” I see thin spaces when my children sing “Up above my head…I see Jesus in the air…and I really do believe there’s a heaven somewhere.”

I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the choreography that my husband is doing (laundry, cooking, cleaning, homework) – just so I can spend all the time I possibly can in this inexplicably peaceful place – where love is truly, truly being embodied…heavenly…Heavenly…HEAVENLY love.

Mostly, of course, I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the way my father is with my mother (not really much different than he has always been)…wise, gracious, tender, faithful, gentle, intentional, courageous, open, encouraging, soft, strong.

 

The Hospice Social Worker told us, earlier today, that Mom has about 12-48 hours left in this place.

We are all (my mom and dad and brother and sisters and I) together…Walking mom into resurrection. Letting go as she walks first through the narthex of heaven and then through the thin place of separation and finally into perfect, total no-matter-what, the-end-amen Love.

Peeling Paint, Splinters, and Thanksgiving

My family and I were on vacation a couple or three weeks ago. We had saved and saved and saved money every month for more than a year so that we could rent a place at the beach (I am learning more and more what a luxury it is to actually be able to save money!). We’d packed up on Friday and Saturday (check list in hand) and had the truck loaded, bikes on the rack and were ready to head out as soon as worship was over on Sunday.

Spirits high, kids happy, sun and fun and beach ahead, we drove and sang along to the radio…very lovely!

Three hours later, spirits still high, we pulled through the gates of the beach “community,” and – filled with anticipation – got directions to the address of our place-for-the-week.

We pulled into the driveway and parked…And before we even entered, my head went “What the what, what?!?! You’re kidding me!!!”

Paint peeling, cobwebs dangling, wood on the steps just waiting to impale its splinters into my children’s, or worse my feet!

My jaw obviously clinched, and my husband patted my hand.

When we opened the door and went inside, it just got worse (Anybody remember the Deena Carter song: “Did I Shave My Legs for This?”…That’s how I felt!)!

Now…You need to know that I pride myself on being a “responsive” person (frustratingly so according to some folks who would rather I be more “reactionary”), but all thoughtful responsiveness flew out the door, and my reaction was pretty immediate and somewhat/pretty/quite negative. For a couple minutes, I refused to unpack anything…“We’re not staying here!!! Did you walk across the floor??? The wood is coming up!!! One of the kids is going to fall through!”

It was so bad, that my husband did something that I don’t remember him ever doing before…He took me into the nasty, cramped, dark kitchen and said, “You have got to get it together!”

“Well you’d better call someone, or else I will!” I said.

“I’ll call,” he said.

I stayed in there and fumed for a few moments; then hollered at the kids to get down to the truck and start hauling things up…They did.

I very reluctantly unpacked a few things and threw them (literally) into cabinets, trying to ignore the peeling shelf paper.

When I finally came out of the kitchen, Cliff and the kids were standing there with their bathing suits on.

“Come on Mom! We’re going to the beach!” I shot lasers out of my eyes straight at my husband…the kind that say, “I am not ready to not be fuming!!!”

While I got dressed, they went outside and found the bike helmets and pumped the tires up.

When found our way to the beach (which, I noted loudly, was farther away than advertised), one of the kids said, “Mom, can we get in the water!” I grunted at them, unfolded my chair, slammed it into the sand, opened my book and promptly buried my snorting nose in it.

Needless to say, before I could even start reading, two soaking wet, squealing, sand-covered kids ran up to me and said, “THIS IS AWESOME!!!!”

Perspective (haven’t I already posted a blog about that?).

I told someone the other day that I am tired of learning life-lessons…You’d think that, by the time I’m as old as I am, I’d have learned them all!

We came to know the maintenance folks for the “house” pretty well (they had to come every…that’s right EVERY day to work on the AC…eventually just putting in a window unit and bringing more fans!)…And, yes, we did get a hunk of our money refunded. But, it would have been so easy for me to miss out on love and laughter and “awesome” and blessings and grace and on and on and on.

My friend Kelly B. took on someone’s 7-day gratefulness-challenge (or something like that). Quite honestly when I hear about these “gratefulness” challenges, I always think they’re a little hokey…a little Pollyanna-ish, you know? But, maybe there’s something to it.

Perspective…Maybe a little more thankfulness…Maybe a little more focus on the presence of love and blessings and God’s kingdom even in the midst of peeling paint and worn, splintering (dare we say, “cross-shaped”) wood.

Mustard Seeds and St. Bernards

Most of you know that we have two Saint Bernards in our family – both rescued dogs.

Dinah was rescued from the pound (I know…a real, live Saint Bernard in the pound!).

We brought her home about 1 week after our first Saint Bernard (Tendai) died…after swearing that we would wait at least 6 months – okay – 3 months – okay – one month before we got another dog! It’s just that Tonka (our other living Saint Bernard) was soooo lost after the first dog died.

So, in our home are two giant throw-rugs of dogs!

I’m fairly sure we spend more money feeding the dogs than we do the kids (on the good side – and there are several good sides – at least their shedding hair…the dogs’ not the kids’…gathers in clumps so large it creates hazardous conditions around the house, which force me to vacuum on a fairly regular basis, thus maintaining my image of not being a completely worthless housekeeper!!)!

They are getting older though – for dogs so large.

Tonka – the surviving member of the original twosome, is about 8 ½ or 9 years old (we adopted him from a St. Bernard Rescue thing. His owner was being deployed overseas with the military and couldn’t take Tonka with him). He’s had an ongoing urinary tract infection (now, THAT’S an experience!!!!). Trust me, it is no small puddle that a dog that size creates when he just can’t hold it any longer…Think small to medium sized pond.

The only thing worse than bolting out of bed in the middle of the night at the sound of dog-urine hitting the thankfully hardwood floor, is the surprise of having slept through the deluge, and stepping into it as soon as you get up in the morning!

Tonka recently finished another round of antibiotics. I took him back for his follow-up urinalysis (God love the vet tech who gathered that!), only to receive a voice-mail the next day stating that there was a mix-up in the transfer of his urine sample to the lab!!!! Could I bring him back so they could get another sample (I drive a PRIUS for goodness’sake!)?

Urinalysis re-taken…Infection gone…But his kidneys are not functioning as they should be. He’s getting older…slowing down.

When we told the kids (3 ½ years ago) about the first dog’s death, Lucy literally wailed. Henry wept and walked around aimlessly.

I’m not really sure why I share this…Maybe to be reminded that everybody is dealing with something. You and me and that annoying person you work with…Some relatively small “somethings,” and some pretty big “somethings.” But all of us have something going on. And none of us knows all the stories of the hearts of those around us. And all of us are seeking some control of some aspect of our lives…and these constant pee-puddles (or whatever the equivalent is in your life) force us to realize that any control we may assume we have is really just the illusion of control. So, we need to be gentle with each other.

This upcoming Sunday’s gospel lesson includes the parable of the mustard seed…It was a nuisance plant…a weed…like kudzu, you know (the mustard plant). That it was sewn in a field is a result of its seed being so small and indiscernible mixed in among the “proper” seed. So, no one expected to see the plant growing. The Kingdom of God can be a nuisance sometimes (ala the Mustard plant/weed). Way easier to be cynical and judgmental with others – rather than being gentle and “open.”

I focus, sometimes (more often than I like to admit) only on what I expect to see…I don’t sleep well, and am exhausted…worried that a UTI-infested dog may wake up and need to be rushed outside (that’s what I expect…okay, so it may not be the beautiful field of pure crop that the scripture alludes to – but it is what I expect) and so in my frustration, I miss the grace-lessons that this very frustration offers. Maybe an analogical stretch – I’ll grant you that – but even in this frustration, I am being prepared to have patience with others who are also exhausted for whatever reason. I am being prepared to care for those who are aging and losing control of their bodies. I am being prepared to raise children who know love and inevitable loss and care and gentleness.

Mustard seeds and dog-pee…The presence of the Kingdom can be inconvenient…The lessons of grace – even when others have to help us discern those lessons – remind us that God grows in us and brings us to places of peace and compassion and love.

 

The Kingdom of God in Bojangles Coliseum

About a minute-and-a-half after the athletes started coming in, I wanted to knock Ethan out…He’s our Minister of Youth & Families.

He was standing right beside me, and his constant “whoop-whooping” poured down on me from his 6’2” height and echoed throughout the entirety of the Bojangles Coliseum.

 

A bunch of us from the church went to support Ben – St. Luke’s own  Special Olympian (check out www.especiallyben.com ).

 

Anyhow, Ethan’s excitement and enthusiasm were, quite honestly, more than a little annoying – at least at first.

I’m fairly certain that every person there could hear him…which, of course, was the point.

 

He made sure that every Special Olympian processing during the Opening Ceremony on Tuesday knew that they were supported, respected, seen, and cheered for. And before long everyone around, including me, took up his cause – whooping and whistling and shouting and waving for every single athlete (all 1,200 + of them) – like a bunch of crazy, star-struck fans just hoping that one of the athletes might look our way!

 

At one point, I realized that I was laughing out-loud at the same time that tears were rolling down my cheeks…

And I know this sounds a little “hallmark-ish,” but I was experiencing (if that’s the right word), or sitting in the middle of, or being overwhelmed by irresistible and inexplicable joy (truly, truly inexplicable – so, please forgive this feeble attempt at making it explicable)!

 

There, right before my eyes, the Kingdom of God took shape in Bojangles Coliseum.

There, the world was turned upside down.

There, the ones society calls the least and last, were now the first - the heroes and stars and champions.

And we just wanted to be part of it! The love and joy and excitement were palpable.

 

There was not the slightest hint of misplaced sympathy or condescension in the air – not one utterance of  “that poor child,” not a single insinuation of pity.

 

There was just Ethan (who recognized the Kingdom faster than I did) jumping up and down, waiving furiously, whooping until we all could not keep from joining in – celebrating the love and the joy and the inclusion of us all together in the presence of the Kingdom.