Religion and Tennis Don't Mix

We were playing mixed doubles the other day, with a man and a woman, Joyce and Jacob (not a couple). After the introductions, the man, 'Jacob' said, "I hear you are a preacher." I said yes, and mentioned the church I serve. Jacob said, "I am a member of that church." I teased him and invited him to come to church. As the conversation unfolded, he admitted that he has not been to church in the past fifteen years. According to Jacob, the pastor, more than fifteen years ago, had mixed religion and politics, and he never went back, though there have been three or four other pastors since. The conversation unfortunately led to the crux of the matter, which was essentially his unbelief.

As I pondered the conversation, I really did have to be grateful for the clear explanation that came relative to those who become "inactive". There is always the desire on the part of active members to want to re-capture, or reactivate those folks. But the truth of the matter is, they are always inactive for a reason. This particular person had reached the conclusion that "religion is the cause of all the problems in the world." Such a person cannot be re-activated into meaningful church membership, because they no longer believe in its teachings.

So it was a real "bummer" of a conversation that didn't mix well with my tennis game. But it did give me insight into a particular category of 'church members.'

And completely out of the blue, the one who was not a member at all, Joyce and her husband showed up in church today! What a lovely surprise!

Competition

I was talking to a friend recently and we got onto the subject of competition. She seemed to have a lot of negative thoughts attached to the idea of competition. That had likely originated from the fact that she was a twin, and competition was the name of the game, from conception forward! (and I'm sure not always in a good way.)

Later, after that conversation, I began to realize that feelings about competition develop very differently along gender lines, or I should say, they used to long ago. Boys competed in sports [and everything else] and girls were supposed to learn to cooperate. Both my friend and I recalled how sports were not part of our lives as children, or even as teens. The idea of being a female competitive athlete came "after our time." Now I realize how much I missed by not playing on a competitive team sport as a youngster.

As a family, when we played various games, [card games, or board games, or word games] I remember how shocked I was when my family members started to 'accuse' me of being highly competitive. That was an unexpected description which didn't seem to fit my view of myself.

Now that I have become a serious tennis player, I recognize that I love to compete. And the competing has less to do with who wins, and more to do with testing your skill. I used to watch a lot of ice skating, especially during the Michelle Kwan era. I remember how often she would talk about her passion for skating, and how she loved to compete. I didn't understand that for a long time, but now I do. If one works hard for years, puts tremendous time and effort into mastering a talent, skill, ability (particularly of the sports category), the only way to really test your mettle is to compete with others.

I only wish I'd had more opportunities to compete when I was younger and my body was stronger. Now there are considerable limits to what I can do. But I still like to push them!

Everyday Tools

I learned from Gerry that everyday tools should be good quality, and that it is always a good thing to spend money for tools that we use in our daily life. Although that is what we both say we believe, we do not always practice our own conviction. For instance, we had a small four cup coffee pot that we've had for many years. It has always been inadequate, especially if company is coming. Over the years, it started to perk slower and slower. Still, we hung in there with the slow perking, inadequate coffee maker for probably over a year, if not two! We tried every cleaning option, thinking that is what was slowing it down. It wasn't exactly broken, just slowly giving out. Finally, a couple of months ago, I threw it in the trash and went out and bought a new one, different model. How much better our coffee life is! [I suppose it's a good thing not to throw away your old model too soon, just because it is slowing down.]

Earlier in the week, I was doing a bit of ironing. Ironing is not something I do very often, nor does my iron do the task very well. It occurred to me that I've had that little scrawny iron for over twenty five years, at least. The steam function no longer works; the spray function died long ago. Recently, I noticed that the switch to adjust the temperature was flapping in the breeze. That meant that it had two temperatures. On for hot, and unplugged for cold.

But it wasn't dead yet. It still produced heat. Some of our appliances just seem to die a miserable death!

I threw the iron in the trash and went out and bought a new one. Lo and behold, the steam function actually got rid of wrinkles, especially those in tablecloths that have never come out since I bought them. The spray function made it possible to concentrate on specific trouble spots. And the adjustable switch made it possible to iron a variety of different kinds of fabrics. Ironing suddenly became something that is almost pleasant! I could probably even learn to like it!

Oh, we are very good at repairing broken things quickly. But sometimes I do shake my head in wonder at how long it takes to replace our a poorly functioning appliances. [Maybe it's just empathy.]

No Do-Overs

I read a line in a newsletter today that went like this, "If I could push the rewind button......I probably would have done some things differently."

All of us would have, I'm sure....done some things differently. (paid more attention, done more of that, done less of the other, really listened, been more present, sensitive, thoughtful, willing, forgiving, etc. etc.). But fortunately, or unfortunately, there are no do-overs in life. There are second chances for sure, but no deletes.

And when I consider the text from Romans that is the basis for my sermon on Sunday, I'd say that is probably a good thing, that we cannot rewind and do it all over again. The general idea that the writer Paul puts forth is: suffering produces character. I'd be willing to bet that if most of us could do it all over, we would surely eliminate the worst of our suffering. If we could rewind our lives, we would likely bypass the parts that hurt. But in doing so, you see, we'd be deleting that which has the greatest effect on who we are!

All this leads inevitably to the conclusion that the point is not to avoid our mistakes and pain, but to learn from them.

If I had the remote control button of life in my own hands, I might not necessarily rewind and eliminate all the pain and suffering, but I'll confess that I would surely hold down the fast forward button to get it over with quickly!

Biggest Loser

I am a die-hard watcher of The Biggest Loser on Tuesday nights. This past Tuesday, it was usurped from its usual time by a Yankees baseball game. I was bereft! Every day I searched on line to find when it might air at a later time, all to no avail. I realized that only in New York was it usurped by the Yankees, not the rest of the country. On line, eventually, I read some articles about what happened in that episode. I saw a live commentary about the show. So I did manage to find out what had happened. Still with longing and need, I kept going on line seeing if I could find out how to watch it.

For me, the attraction to the show it is not so much the weight loss as it is the internal transformation that takes place for the contestants. They learn to like themselves; they confront their emotional baggage; they learn to appreciate their bodies, they gain confidence; they push themselves beyond their limits; they change the way they look at life, and on and on that transformation goes.

I realized that finding out what happened at the end of the episode (who would be the the final two; who would be voted on by America; who lost how many pounds each) did not satisfy my need to watch that show.

I finally figured out that with a credit card I could watch the whole thing, via Amazon.com, which I finally did last night. I began to feel satisfied. I rejoiced with the hometown folks who celebrated the contestants' accomplishments; I cheered as they ran the marathon; I understood when they struggled with the temptations of home, and tried to readjust to their old lives.

In the end, it was very clear to me that my great need to see the show had nothing to do with how it ended, or who lost how many pounds. It was about me needing to be part of the process.

For an athlete, the real point is clearly not the gold metal, but the striving, the competition.

For a student, the most important thing is not the grade, but what we learned about history or math or ourselves.

For the believer, the focus is not about how or when we were converted, but how we live our lives of faith.

How true the old saying is: Life is not about the destination, but about the journey!

And the journey is about endurance and character.

Life in Pictures

Some time last week, Yo mentioned that she and Matt have decided they want to have a slideshow at their rehearsal dinner. She asked if I would pick out some photos for that. I spent quite a bit of time going through all our photo albums and choosing photographs from all the different stages of her life. Gerry scanned them and burned them onto a CD and I shipped off the CD to Maggie, Matt's sister who got recruited to put it all together. Somewhere in the midst of all of that discussion, I decided that it would be a lot more fun if they do not see it ahead of time, but are surprised by what is put together. Yo agreed.

Going back through our lives in pictures is always so amazing, shocking, interesting. First, it is amazing because it is hard to remember ever looking like that (very thin and quite lovely) (Gerry said that the pictures of me made him absolutely drool). It is hard to believe so many years have gone by so quickly, especially since Yo was born. Because we were older when she was born, time has flown by even faster.

Looking at all the albums sort of made me sad that I don't "do" photo albums any more. That all fell by the wayside with the coming of digital cameras into our lives. Now we have pictures on the computer, or camera. I honestly don't like it nearly as much. Yes, it is quick, versatile, portable, transmittable, attachable, and all those things....but I still miss the 'good old photo album days'.

Going back through our lives in picture reminds me how full, how rich, how varied, how challenging our lives have been. One sees the places we have lived and traveled, the places we have played, the different configurations of our homes, parsonages, churches, people.

Matt and Yo's pictures will be combined for the slideshow. Even I will be surprised by the final product. Gathering the photos to show her growth and development provided a wonderful journey back through our lives, a trip I don't take very often.

What a glorious life it has been.

A Really Sweet Story

Grace and I were out and about today serving Communion to some who are homebound. At one point, Grace and Beth, the person we were visiting, got to reminiscing about a former parishioner they had both known well.

When Grace had first come to the church some forty years ago, she was feeling the need for a surrogate grandmother and asked the pastor if he could suggest someone. The pastor suggested Norma, who had recently lost her husband, and whose son had died in World War II. She had no other family. Grace "adopted" her and vice versa. Grace ended up taking Grandma Norma to church every Sunday and to her doctors appointments. For the rest of her life, Norma celebrated all major holidays and family events with Grace and her family. Before Norma died, she passed along her diamond ring to Grace, having no other family members to leave it to.

Grace shared with us today that she still "takes Grandma Norma" to church every Sunday. She said that she isn't really one to wear much jewelry, but every Sunday she takes Grandma Norma's diamond ring out of the jewelry box and still "brings her to church."

Although I did not know Grandma Norma, I'm pretty sure that she really appreciates that, even to this day!

What Next?

I'm four months into my interim assignment as associate pastor and know that there will only be some months left, the specific number unknown. Technically, my contract ends in July, but they do not expect to have their permanent associate pastor in place by then. Anticipating that it would work out that way, the senior pastor asked if I would be willing to work past my contract date, and I said yes.

All this means that at some point I will have to ask myself: What next? The basic questions really are: Can I be happy without actively doing ministry? And can I find my niche as a volunteer? Can I be satisfied without employment? That's four questions, and I don't really know the answer to any of them at this moment.

In the past year, some things have become crystal clear. I have definitely lost all interest in denominational meetings. When I get notices of those for either the denomination I belong to, or the one I am currently working in, that is absolutely the last thing in which I have any interest. I am keenly interested in people and relationships. Already, I have discovered that without employment, I lack the necessary access to satisfy my "people needs." I'm sure there are other doors to access besides the church, which I have simply just not identified yet. Maybe that is something I could work on.

There are surely countless opportunities and possibilities yet to unfold. I could join the bell choir. I could try out for a part in a play. I could run in a 5K race or walk a half marathon.

Or I could simply not think about what is next and 'stop and smell the roses', as they say.

For now, however, I have more than plenty on my plate, for the next six months at least. And I honestly don't need to plan anything beyond that.

I am reminded of an old song from when I was just a little girl: Whatever will be will be. Kay sa rah sa rah.

Father Abraham

I just read an article written by a clergywoman in which she tells about her mother, who died quickly, and her mother-in-law who is dying slowly. The part of the article I liked best was her description of the "middle part of life". She describes the Christian story as having a "great ending", though it has a terrible middle story of suffering. She also says "some people's middle story is longer than others, and most of us have a terrible middle story somewhere in our life saga." I heartily agree with that statement.

And that brings me to Abraham and Sarah. I am preaching on them in June and have started doing some research. The truth is, there is a lot to the "middle story" of Abraham that I would like to avoid in my sermon. In order to avoid the terrible parts of the Abraham story, then I need to have another perspective, and the lens through which I want to tell the story is one of history. What was the world like in the time of Abraham, and why does he stand out? That led me to research the differences between monotheism and polytheism. It is generally believed that monotheism came first, and polytheism, or the worship of many gods, was a the result of people falling away from the worship of the one true god. They wanted a god they could control, unlike Yahweh, whom they could not. By the time of Noah, polytheism dominated.

Interesting, Moses was raised by the Pharoah, who was polytheistic. He only became monotheistic when he discovered that he was a Hebrew. Researching the life and times of Abraham has led me to some really fascinating places, and theories, and discoveries!

Perhaps the part of the Abraham story I will tell is about how his faith in God grew over time; perhaps the point of the story is that even someone with a 'terrible middle story' can come around, in the end, to be a person of integrity, faithfulness, and one whom God can use for infinite purposes.

God can and has. God does and will.

Veggie Garden

This afternoon I planted a vegetable garden. I will be thrilled to harvest a great variety of veggies from the garden. Hopefully, that will happen. Gerry built the raised box to hold the special topsoil. I planted the seeds. Watching a garden grow is something I especially love to do, though I have really not had a significant garden for a very long time. Typically, I have grown a tomato plant or two, but it has been ages since I have mustered any real gardening effort. That's understandable, since we have not lived in our own home for quite a while, and also I was fully occupied elsewhere.

Thinking of gardens brings to mind a couple of memories. I remember the first time I tried to grow a vegetable garden as a young child of maybe seven or eight. I just dug up a plot of the back yard and planted the seeds. Once the plants were up and young and tender, some stray animal came along and destroyed everything. I was devastated. It might even have been my pet chicken, Doodle, but I don't remember that part.

A woman who worked for us brought me a baby chick for Easter, which I raised and treated like a pet bird, sitting on my shoulder wherever I went. Doodle thought she was a dog, or a human or something. I think she must have been smarter than most chickens, who are not known for their intelligence. (but most chickens have not been raised as a member of the family). Whenever the back screen door of the house opened, she heard it, and came waddling toward the house as fast as she could. She was a free range chicken with lots to eat, so heading toward the door was more an act of affection, or so I believe. Eventually, an old brown chicken wandered into the yard. Somewhere along the way, its eyes had been pecked out and it was blind. My Doodle became the seeing eye chicken who walked in front of the old brown hen and clucked so she would know where to go. The blind hen followed gratefully.

You had to look where you were walking when you walked in the yard. The old hen just dropped her eggs wherever she happened to feel the urge, not being able to see.

Anyway, my first gardening effort did not amount to much. Hopefully, this one will overflow with zucchini, bell peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, okra, beans and cucumbers.

I surely hope it will!

Clergy On Call

All of a sudden, I find myself in the position of being clergy on call in multiple ways. Being "on call" is, of course, being uncertain about what might happen from one minute to the next. The "on call" nature of full time ministry was one of the things I was happy to leave behind when I retired. Of course, we all know that I have decided that I'd rather not be fully retired, so am always striving for that right balance somewhere in between.

The Senior Pastor is going to be away for two weeks studying for his doctorate. I'm on call to cover whatever might come up. He came to talk with me this morning, and his father in law is now not expected to live more than two weeks. That adds a whole level of uncertainty for him, and for me. Will I have to lead the worship service on Sunday on very short notice? Do I need to prepare for that? Will I need to cover the funeral he has scheduled? That all depends on how long his father-in-law lives. For Senior Pastor J, it is a time when everything seems to all happen at the same time; family crisis, continuing education, confirmation, etc. etc.

Then I got an email just now reminding me that I agreed to be a "pastor on call" while a clergy colleague in a nearby community is taking paternity leave. I had completely forgotten about that. Hopefully, my services will not be needed too much. I'm confident that won't happen.

But I am also confident that I can probably cover whatever needs may come up, with God's help!

Mother's Day: A Contrary View

Today is the first time I can remember in a long time (if ever), hearing a Mother's Day sermon preached by a young man. He admitted to me before the services that he hates to preach on Mother's Day, (since he isn't one.) As I reflected back over the years of my ministry, I don't believe I ever undertook the daunting task of preaching a mother's day sermon. I most certainly used stories and illustrations befitting the theme and occasion, but never a whole sermon. Now I understand why.

I could not preach a mother's day sermon because I know all too well how brutally hard being a mother is. Plus, I know how terribly imperfect all mothers are. And on top of that, most mothers always feel some guilt for not having done more, for not having perfect children, for having left them in child care, for having worked, and a whole assortment of different reasons. In reality, it is never as idyllic as the Hallmark cards portray.

Don't get me wrong. I love and honor all my children. I think they are awesome. They are all very different, having chosen different paths. Being a mother is the most important and the most difficult thing I have ever done. It is the most challenging and the most rewarding. Idealizing motherhood, (which I heard a lot of today) is essentially not helpful. The ideal set forth (the one mothers mostly hear) is how they are the ones ultimately responsible for their children and how they turn out, and by the same token, also to blame.

I have a contrary view. Children will choose their own ways, even though they are frequently not the ones their mothers may have chosen for them. One's children will bring the greatest of all joys, and they will break your heart. It's messy, very messy, long beyond the diaper stage! One always aspires to be a better mother than our own mothers might have been, therefore setting ourselves up for failure. In the end, every mother is likely doing the best she can, in the particular circumstances of her life. Few of us get it absolutely right.

I recently observed my oldest daughter interact with her three year old, whose behavior warranted discipline. My daughter rose to the challenge and did what she had to do, sending the child to her room to cry until she got over her willfulness. It isn't fun to have to be "mean mommy." I could see how hard that was for her by the look on her face, her body language, her deep sigh. Being a stern disciplinarian, even when it is called for, goes against the grain of everything in her sweet, gentle nature. Lots of times, it's not fun being a mother.

Maybe Mother's Day is a good idea, especially if she gets to sleep in and have breakfast in bed. (It certainly is for the florist!) I'm not entirely sure about all the rest of it, though. It is not a good thing if it only adds to the weight of expectations the world lays at our feet, or adds to the guilt.

I know a lot about being a mother. You don't get to it without going through a lot of pain. You don't get through it without the same.

On Books and Shakespeare

Let's just call him William White. He is a Shakespearean scholar, a retired English Teacher, a director of plays, a lover of books, a much beloved member of the church I serve, where he has probably held every office, and is the archivist who has written the history of the church, to name just a few of his accomplishments.

Mr. White gave a presentation tonight, and it was really quite fascinating, primarily because of the details that were revealed about his favorite author, Helen Bevington. His English professor in college read one of her poems, and he was enchanted, slowly acquiring books she had written over many years. Mr. White is in his late seventies, so that first poem would have probably been discovered in the early 1950's.

Over the course of his teaching career, Mr. White taught Shakespeare and directed many Shakespearean plays in his school district. He often used textbooks and articles and other scholarly material written by a David Bevington, who unbelievably turned out to be Helen's son, a connection he did not make for many years. But eventually he wrote a letter to David Bevington, and in that letter Mr. White inquired if his mother Helen was still living. Mr. White and Helen Bevington began a correspondence which lasted for several years until she passed away. He was her biggest fan!

Although they had never actually met, her son David asked Mr. White to speak at her memorial service in North Carolina in 2000. From an initial meeting through a poem read by a professor as a young man, to a connection through her Shakespearean scholar son, and to a correspondence between lovers of literature, this was a most unusual and unique relationship, a kind of "love affair" between an author and her fan.

It was a love affair that developed and lasted for over fifty years between two people who only met through words on a page. How fascinating!

The Hospital

My third daughter, Eva, was having a medical procedure done at the hospital today. While not life threatening, it did require that someone drive her home, so I got there early in the morning to be with her for as long as needed.

I spent some time in the waiting room and read several magazines while sitting there. Then I began thinking about that particular hospital and my family. We used to live in a town nearby so that particular hospital is the one where we have gone for one reason or another---to be born, to give birth, to have emergency surgery, or to the emergency room for various unexpected ailments.

As I reflected on our relationship with that hospital, I made a list of all the times I could remember one of us ending up there. Of the six members of my immediate family, not a one has escaped a visit there, if not two! Some of those were joyful; some were terrifying. Yo was born there. That was a joyful occasion, but also, I had emergency surgery. A year later she was there with a seizure. My oldest daughter went to the hospital for emergency surgery when she was fifteen. At the time, the doctors were not sure she was going to make it. Many years later, she was there to give birth, more than once. Gerry went there via ambulance with emergency pain, which turned out to be kidney cancer. Later in surgery, that kidney was removed. Every one of us has been there. It is a place that evokes all those memories.

Some of the greatest dramas of our lives get played out in the hospital. Life and death take place there. And sometimes, you don't know exactly how that is going to go!

I am so very fortunate and blessed to have thus far escaped any major life-threatening illnesses! I know that cannot last forever, but as long as it does, I'll be happy to keep my distance from the hospital, despite it being a very nice place.

Engagement Announcement

I got a phone call today saying that the engagement announcement will be in this Saturday's paper. Yo and Matt had photographs taken for that purpose. (Yo is her blog name, to protect her privacy). Time flies by!

She seems to have flown from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. As parents, of course, you wonder where in the world did the time go? She was riding a bike not so long ago! Then she was off to college and in the blink of an eye, she graduated.

It may not have seemed quite as fast for her as it does for her parents. The older you get, the faster it flies! And we are older indeed.

Yo and Matt have been a developing couple since she was 18, and by the time of her wedding, she will be 25. In a way, they have grown up together. I suppose that continually growing into one's self, and into life is what we all do, and ultimately what marriage is all about. The stages just keep coming! I know that for sure, because they are still unfolding for me.

I wasn't allowed to post the picture of her in her wedding dress [understandably] because that might spoil the surprise, but perhaps I can get away with posting the engagement photo, which is going public soon anyway. (not that she reads my blog, because she does not).

What a lovely bride she will be!

Giving Her All

I've been working on various chores around the house today. In the background, Gerry has had the television on whatever channel is broadcasting the Kentucky Derby. It is the day of the Kentucky Derby race. I heard a commentator refer to the one "filly" among all the boys, who had a chance to win the race.

That, of course, brought to mind a race not so long ago, when that exact thing happened. I don't remember exactly when it was, or which race, but I remember some of the circumstances. It was a race where another horse was expected to win and take the Triple Crown. But instead, the one filly in the race came from behind to take the lead and win the race! She then promptly fell on the track and died. Maybe she broke both legs and had to be put down. I don't remember that part, but I do know that it was so so sad. Who could have imagined such a sad horse race!

I really identify with that filly. Not so much because she was the one female who beat out the males, but because of her commitment to the race. She gave her whole heart.

I like to think that is how I "run my race". Whether it is to my marriage, or making a family dinner, going after a ball on the court, or preaching a sermon, I feel like I give my all.

The Apostle Paul felt the same way about his ministry. In his last days, he writes these words to his young friend Timothy: I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.

I guess that's all any of us can do. Notice that Paul did not say that he had won the race, but that he finished it.

And he knew that he would get his crown....not the Triple Crown for winning, but the crown of righteousness for finishing the race and keeping the faith, a crown awarded by the Lord for giving one's whole heart.