Quick Ears and a Slow Mouth

I was presumptuous and didn’t let her get a word in edgewise.

She sent me an article whose title I found offensive – something about the “Black Dilemma,” with the added comment by her, “Amen!!!” (with THREE exclamation points!)…I was angry before I even read it! I received the article from her in an email that I got the night before I was to go to lunch with her. As soon as I saw her, the next day, I told her that I needed to cancel our lunch date, but that I would like to talk to her, please, when she had time.

She had time almost immediately.

I asked: “Why would you send me an article like this?!?!” And “Why would you write ‘Amen’ with not one, but THREE exclamation marks?!?!?” And “It made me cry!” And “How could you think you know me and send me something like that?!?!?!” And “Did you know that that article was originally posted on a website that is sponsored by a white supremacy group?!?!?”  Then I proceeded to not listen to a single thing she said in response!

That was TWO MONTHS ago…Two very long months during which we have barely made eye-contact.

 

I found out the other day, that she is looking for a new church.

So, I talked to her today, and told her that I understand that she is looking for a new church…and I said that I pray that she will find a place where she can feel blessed and continue to grow.

She told me that she just couldn’t stay where she no longer felt that she had a pastor. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said.

 

We talked briefly about the meeting we had together following the email with the article in it…and her “Amen!!!” (with THREE exclamation points). She talked about how she had cried for three days after that meeting and how hurt she was that I had essentially called her a white supremist. She used my own words: “How can you think you know me, then think that of me?!?!?” “And “I don’t feel like I have a pastor anymore.”

“It was the ‘Amen!!!’ that I couldn’t understand,” I said. Then, continuing to exhibit diarrhea of the mouth, I continued: “We are called to figure this out! To figure out how we can live together without blaming the other for being ‘other,’ or insisting that ‘they’ become like ‘us.’” (my voice had THREE exclamation points and italics).

“I agree,” she said (but, again, I didn’t listen).

So, I just kept plowing ahead with something about the Kingdom of God, common good, whatever.

 

So, she said it again: “I agree with you.”

“What?”

She said something to the effect that “Well, it isn’t working, is it?” And “We’ve got to figure out how to make this work.” And “That’s what the ‘Amen’ was about.”

 

Oh, what a fool I have been.

Oh, what a gracious, gracious woman she has been in her mercy toward me.

 

She may well still seek another pastor – one who not only preaches about listening and gentleness and love and on and on and on…but who actually practices those things.

 

What was it that James said: “Be quick to listen, slow to speak.” (James 1:19)?

 

God, grow in me the gift of quick and sincere listening and slow speech…

 

It Just Takes Courage

The youngest one at our gathering said, “It just takes courage.”

A dozen members of St. Luke’s, most of whom have been attending a series of forums sponsored by Mecklenburg Ministries, called “Let’s Talk” (a weekly gathering which began after the massacre of the Emanuel Nine), came together last night in our living room to talk and share and dream and discern what it is we are called to do about healing and building and bridging and addressing issues of racial tension and inequality in our families and community and world…wanting to raise our children and grandchildren to do and be better.

 

We were three black and nine white.

We shared stories and sadness.

We shared perspective and grief.

We spoke of hope and resurrection.

We started from love and grew from there.

I asked “Why are you here?” And we took turns answering.

And we began to know one another.

 

A retired white pastor, slight in build and soft spoken, shared that he had been in Mississippi in 1964 (or 1965?) registering black voters. He shared a story about how the car he was travelling in was tailed by a pick-up truck whose passengers carried shot guns and “escorted” him, and those he was with, out of town. Then he said, “I haven’t done anything in a long time. I need to do something again.”

A retired black nurse shared a story about having to take her SAT exam, for entrance into nursing school, in the hallway because she wasn’t welcomed into the testing hall where the white candidates sat. She shared that, when she needed to wash her hands, a janitor had to be found to open the janitor’s closet – the only place she was allowed to use the sink. “I don’t know what would have happened if I’d have needed to use a toilet.”

A young white woman shared a memory of a time she was told not to follow-up on a resume, because the name on it sounded like the person might not “talk right.” “ I didn’t do anything about it. I should have.” Then talking to the black sisters present, she said: “ I am sorry.”

A 78 year-old white woman said, “I’m old! Something has got to be done about this before I die! So, let’s get on with it!”

Another young white woman responded “I know…But what about when the racism is in your own family?” “I love my family…what do I do? I don’t want my children to be like that.”

That’s when the youngest one present – a young woman who just graduated from high school and is heading to Duke in just over a month, and who happens to be bi-racial, said “It just takes courage.”

“It took courage to admit that something ‘just isn’t right.’”

“It took courage to go to those forums.”

“It took courage to admit that many of us have been blind.”

“It took courage to say ‘help.’”

“It took courage to come here tonight.”

“And it will take courage to tell your family that you are coming again next week.”

“…And we will cheer for you and love you and hold hands with you.”

And we prayed for the courage.

 

We are not completely naïve…We know that many will say, “The confederate flag came down…What else is there to do? Let’s move on.”

So, we pray for courage to continue.

Next week we will gather again…This time to make plans to do some “actionable” thing (or things).

Maybe to just get kids sharing their experiences. And adults.

And we will begin to know one another…And we will come to share love and grow from there.

And we will have courage.

 

“For you did not receive a spirit of slavery (or cowardice) to fall back again into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption…[So, be of good courage!].”

~ Romans 8:15 (with a slight emendation)

We are Village People

On Saturday, Henry and Lucy received their “Black belt recommended” for tai kwon do. That means that they actually get to wear a black belt and work to keep it over the next 6 months or so. So, it is not a “real,” their-name-sewn-on-in red-and-a-single-stripe black belt…yet. Even so, we took pictures and posted it all online. Their very first tai kwon do instructor (Ezekiel Delfino…“Seky” to us. “Mr. Delfino” to the kids.) came to cheer for them and took pictures, too…And posted them, too. Within hours, there were hundreds of “likes” and “way to go’s” and “AWESOMES!” from people we knew and people we didn’t know at all! People from Argentina (where Seky is from), whom we have never met (and likely never will) and whose language we do not speak posted comments to Seky’s photos (on which we were “tagged”), congratulating our kids and encouraging them to continue to work hard. Before she tied their belts on, their current instructor – Ms. Granieri – asked them if they were ready for the real journey to black belt. They said, “Yes ma’am.” “Good…because I believe you can do it.”

 

It takes a village.

 

I don’t remember exactly how long ago…maybe 6 months – maybe longer…I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with Carrie. Her son had had a minor procedure, but had an unknown latex allergy. His throat closed and we didn’t know whether he would survive (he has). Carrie is the nearly 80 year-old matriarch of a very large African American family, as well as the matriarch of the subsidized housing complex near our church (although she has been unceremoniously temporarily displaced from her apartment…too long a story for this blog). In many ways, Carrie’s family fits every stereotype of an African American family living in subsidized housing. I can never remember how many sons she has – but one or two have been killed and all have been in jail or prison. In her terribly over-cramped apartment, you will find children, grand-children, great grand-children, nieces, nephews and neighbors. She hosts “back-porch ministries” where she gives food to her neighbors from her back porch (different churches and companies give her their “day-olds.” Thank you Trader Joes). Some while after literally escaping from an abusive husband, she was instrumental in the start-up of Samaritan’s House (a house where homeless folks can go after they’ve been hospitalized…a need I had never considered. If you are homeless and have surgery, where do you go when you are discharged? Back under the bridge? Ahhh…all the things I take for granted.), and active in civil rights issues in the Charlotte area and beyond.

I asked her how she overcame the obstacles that surrounded her.

She said, “My auntie…”

“My auntie believed in me and cheered for me and told me that I could do great things…important things…things that would change the lives of others.”

“My auntie was the only person who told me those things…But she told me...every time she saw me. Everyone else either thought I wouldn’t amount to anything, or assumed I didn’t need to hear it.”

“My auntie believed in me and told me so.”

 

My children have people all around the world cheering them on.

Carrie had one.

Villages come in all shapes and sizes.

 

Never imagine your encouraging word doesn’t matter. It could change lives who will change lives who will change lives.

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.