Election 2018

Election 2018

When I think of tomorrow’s election

And what our country needs,

I know I want to pray all day,

And spend it on my knees.

(Not sure though what the prayer should be.)

It’s not that I want my side to win;

(Though admittedly, I do);

Mostly, I want a better nation.

Where “other” is not one to fear.

In a world not run by hatred.

I want to be a more perfect nation,

Where rich and poor can live in peace

No matter the color of one’s skin,

Whatever language one happens to speak,

Or a person’s political persuasion.

I want to live in a safer country,

Where acts of violence don’t harm you

When you go to church or the store or the gym,

Where we look instead for common ground,

Rather than divide ourselves into us and them?

Now we are not what America should be.

May this nation endure, beyond this time,

More forgiving, and kind, 
Where all are truly equal and free.

By Nancy Rehkugler

Life Different Than Expected?

How Has Life turned out Differently than You Expected?

That is a tough question for me because I cannot recall or identify what  expectations I might have had for my life???   I know that I hoped that I would someday be married.  If married, I assumed that I would have children.   I did not have very many role models of professional women--- other than being a teacher, so I planned to be just that---an English teacher.   And so I was.  I taught both 11th grade and 9th grade for a number of years, but I was ill prepared, really, and very young and inexperienced.  Those were not my best years.

What I DO recall that I definitely did NOT expect to be is a minister, a pastor, or a clergy-person.   That is something that came much later.  Early in my life, there was not one thought in my mind of following that path.  Women were not yet even allowed in the pulpit, even if I had wanted to do that.

I did not relish many of the characteristics of being the "pastor's family", which came with ridiculous expectations, against which I rebelled.   I was supposed to be well dressed at all times.  I was supposed to be well behaved at all times, always thinking about the pastor's image.  We always had to worry about what other people were thinking.  I hated hated that!  I still hate that.

Since our lifestyle as pastor's family was supported by the financial gifts of others, we had to make sure that we did not buy a car, or clothes that were too fancy.  We could not leave the lights on all night and run up the electric bill.  We actually lived in someone else's house, even though that someone else was the church.

The pastor's family was at the mercy of the greater church as in the United Methodist Church,  pastors were "deployed", not unlike the military.  One did not get to choose when or where a move might take place.

By the time I was in my early 40's,  all that changed.  After experiencing a very profound experience of "being called",  I interpreted that to mean that I would be a local pastor,  which did not require moving, or many of the other expectations.  I did want to attend seminary, so I would be well educated,  but I never expected to be ordained, which I was eventually.

In time, I submitted to all of that,  although I always wanted to live in my own home, rather than the parsonage  (house owned by the church).   I never found that comfortable at any point in my ministry.  It was different when I was the minister,  and in some ways, much worse.  House maintenance was done by committee.  And the committee was not always agreeable.

But all of that aside,  I never expected to be considered an outstanding preacher,  a person who affected other people's lives.  I never imagined that I would be called "talented", or that I would be a key figure in the community.

 I never in a million years would have imagined how much I love preaching.   Actually,  that is something that has developed even more keenly in my retirement years.   I never expected that either!

This Week's Question--What Matters?

What things matter to you most in life?

I knew immediately how to answer this question.  Gerry said it is the most difficult one for him.   My answer has four parts.

Most important: 1. Family.  By that, I specifically mean my immediately family---my children and my husband matter the most.  As for my children, their well-being is what matters--both their physical and emotional/spiritual well being. I do not want any of them to suffer any great loss, of health, loved ones, life.  That would be beyond what I could bear.. I also want them to be functioning adults--with meaningful work and relationships of their own.
 My relationship with Gerry matters. It is filled with love and joy and integrity, and I want that to always be the case.  Whoever dies first, I hope it will come quickly, and not be a long, slow, decline!  That is too hard!

2.  Health.  I do not consider this entirely within my own power to control.  I can do my part, but I know that luck, genetics, the environment, many factors determine health.  But it matters significantly because being able to enjoy most other things in life are dependent upon it!   I hope to have good health for a long time more, and not to be a burden to anyone.  I do not think I would be a particularly agreeable dependent.

3.   Friends.  Friends are important at this stage of my life, although that has certainly not always been the case.  For the first four decades, I was focused on family, children, work.  Then, I married Gerry and we were quite focused on each other, family and work, and there was no time left over to nurture female friendships.   Only since my retirement have I made "nurturing friendships" a priority in my life.   As a clergy person, a pastor,  the relationship is so unique with parishioners,  that being "their friend" is not the way it usually goes.  It matters to me enormously to be able to say that I have a couple of good friends.

4.  Ministry Gifts.  Although I very much was ready to retire from full time ministry, I did still want to be able to somehow use the gifts that I have for ministry.  I did not know exactly how that would evolve,  but I am so very happy to say that it has.  I did interim ministry for a few years.  Then after that, I used my creative abilities to write and produce special events and program, and song lyrics.   Then finally,  I now have a regular preaching commitment, twice a month, and this matters so much to me.  It matters because I feel like I am using my spiritual gifts, and also, I am the experiencing total freedom and the greatest joy imaginable in doing so!

This Week's Question--Happiness

Special Project Questions:  The question for this week:  When were you the happiest?

I had to let that question just sit there for a while and bubble away.  I could not answer it immediately.  My first impression was that I could identify many specific moments when I was happy,  but a longer lasting sense of happiness was harder to identify.  There was always something in the way of that---a bad relationship, difficulty with a family member,  difficulty with a child,  financial challenges, a flood, someone's illness.  

I would not really use happiness to describe my first 30 years.  They were mostly turbulent and chaotic.  Growing up in the 60's.  Poor choice in first marriage, and paying the price for that.  Single parenthood.  Struggles.

But today it came to me---a sustained, time-frame of happiness!  What I do remember vividly is that the first three years of marriage with Gerry were very very happy.   Even blissful.  In some of the photographs taken during that era, I even look blissful!   We coordinated our clothes and dressed to match.  I usually wore a flower in my hair, either real or otherwise, as a symbol of my joy.  It was a wonderful time.  I only remember happiness, sweetness, wonder.   

Toward the end of the third year of our marriage, our lovely daughter VJ was born. She was and is a bright light in our lives.  But it was around that time that my daughter ML, middle child of my first three children,  began acting out. The changes in her personality were drastic. She was thirteen.  There was an older boyfriend, drugs, whereabouts unknown,  interactions with agencies we thought might be able to help.  It was a terribly painful time.  I was lost and did not know what to do.  MLwas lost.  That ended the time-frame of long term happiness.   It was a very long time before I could say that I was happy again.  ML's troubles continued and got worse and resulted in many hospitalizations because of her struggles with mental illness.  I struggled with guilt, a sense of failure,  deep deep sadness.  I struggled to keep from being overwhelmed---to care for my family.

And yet, I had to keep going because I had an infant, and two other daughters as well, and a relatively new marriage, which I wanted to nurture and protect.

By the  early 1990's, I was on the pathway to ordained ministry.  There were many incredible moments in that journey, and there still are.  Ministry has brought much joy and sorrow.  It has taken me to the deepest valleys and the highest mountaintops!   It has brought deep satisfaction and rewards.  It has been the avenue by which I have discovered myself and my gifts and talents.

 I would say that for most of my life, I have not been unhappy, despite many difficulties and challenges and struggles at every stage.  There has always been some aspect of my life which has brought pleasure.  My work. My children.  My marriage. 

The struggles and challenges and difficulties are far fewer now.  Of all the "stages" of my life, I most appreciate the retirement years, when I am free to choose my activities,  the time I go to bed and get up,  my entertainment, hobbies, and so forth.

My children are grown and independent and I try not to worry about them too much.

I am happy that I have enjoyed good health so far.  I am happy to have Gerry still with me!

These days, family gatherings make me happy.   And flowers.   Lunches with friends.

I am very happy with the person I have become.

Ever Won?

The 'special question project' poses this as the next question:  
Have you ever won anything?

The very first thing that popped into my mind is a cake walk at my children's elementary school.   You walk around a circle taped onto the floor, which is divided into blocks with numbers.  When the music stops, a number is pulled out of the fish bowl.  If you are standing on the winning number, you win a cake.  And I did!

I do remember winning a Creative Writing Award when I was in my senior year at college.  I had submitted a short story to the campus literary magazine.  Awards are presented at the college Assemblies, where attendance was required.  I was not in attendance to receive this award, since I was doing my student teaching at a Junior High in another part of the state.   But when I look back on "things won",  that would stand out in my mind as something I would really want to win.

Another "winning experience" was at the Community Arts Challenge, exactly 43 years later, in 2010.   An Arts Center sponsors this event every year and reveals a theme. Then "artists" of all kinds enter in various categories from Writing, to Music, to Painting, to Sculpture, to Photography.   My entry was a poem on the theme that year:  Community.

We were new residents to the community, and I did not really know anyone and no one really knew me, so I certainly had no expectation of winning.  But I did---First Place Prize in Writing!!  That was a thrill because it was so unexpected! 

Since then, I have worked collaboratively with a musician, and we always enter for Original Song, for which I have written the lyrics, and she has written the music.  We always win first place in that category.   But that is different since it is a joint effort.

I have participated in and won medals in the Senior Games for tennis a couple of times---mixed doubles with Gerry.  Just being able to compete is a win in itself.

But most of all, I "won the lottery" in the Husband category.  And I am still reaping the benefits of that particular lottery win.

I would have to say that I am definitely a "winner" because all of my dreams have come true.  Great marriage.  A beautiful home.  Lovely children.  Meaningful work. God-given talents. Good health.  Friends.

Faith, hope, love, these three.  But one of them is best of all!  And my heart is filled with it!

My Take On It

I have made it a practice to neither write, nor read, nor participate in the very negative vitriolic comments on the internet that relate to politics.  I make comments here, because so few people read my blog any more  (since the name had to be changed due to lack of use) that I do not think anyone I know is likely to read this.

Early on, however, after the 2016 election, when I did read some of the horrible comments posted by a particular relative, I noticed that my reaction was so strong, that I did not really want to be in contact with that relative any more!  And of course, that is not a good place for anyone to be.

Recently, I read a Facebook post by an acquaintance who has posted countless negative posts every day since the election, choosing Facebook to be her platform of political resistance.   She recently said something like this:  "I would love to be able to post pictures of cute puppies and kittens, but I believe that I have to fight, or else our democracy will be lost."

I found that an interesting position to take---that our democracy is dependent upon negative FB posts, resistance via comments on-line!  Clearly many people agree with that.   I do not.  I do not think such posts will change anyone's position on a particular issue,  but provide space and opportunity for the "different sides" to dig in and fight each other to the detriment of our national sense of community.

Some might label me a "coward" for not "resisting".  Others could say that my silence enables the downfall of our country.

But what I believe is that by not participating in Facebook political commentary, I am choosing not to be part of the chaos and disunity that our enemies wish to perpetuate.

My on-line silence is the way that I have chosen to resist.  I resist the temptation to attack my neighbors and friends, my countrymen and women.

This too is a viable choice.

Favorite Possessions

Special Project: Questions to answer--- What are your favorite possessions and why?

When I first read this question, I knew immediately what the answer would be.  I have never ever been one to be terribly attached to "things"--" material possessions."

I think the reason for my lack of attachment is the direct result of being a person who has moved countless times.   In that process,  one tends to discard those things that are not particularly treasured.

Prior to moving into this house, our retirement home,  I would say that I always felt transient.   I was transient as a child who lived in a parsonage (house provided by the church) which was not our own.   I was transient in my 20's, married to a military officer, moving frequently.   I was transient in my 30's, as a single parent, renting in a variety of places.  Then, in time, I was transient again, as a clergy who moved a number of times (into houses provided by the church).

In the middle of all those changes in status, there were serious losses.  I left a marriage and left behind possessions.  At one point, when I did live in a small house I bought (as a single mother), along came a flood and damaged beyond repair much of what I had.  Only the solid wooden items survived, which included a piano (from my childhood), and a carved wooden bar.  Most other things ended in the trash heap filled with mud.

Making many moves from place to place is hard on furnishings.  I never had any real quality items until we moved into our current house, when I furnished it with items worthy of our own home.   We did live in our own home for a period of 13 years, between my marriage to Gerry and my entering the ministry.  Those were the child rearing years, which are also hard on furnishings,---at least cheap ones.  We have gone through a whole variety of small couches over the years.  Our current configuration includes couches we bought for our retreat house, and a couch we bought for one of the parsonages we lived in.   A few years ago,  I did buy a full length couch for our current living room.

All of this is background information to get to the point of why I am not too attached to physical possessions.   Since experiencing a flood, and losing many of the photographs from my children's early years, I learned that everything else is replaceable, but not those!  Thankfully, I have accumulated quite a collection of photographs in the thirty plus years since.   So if there were one thing I had to try to save in the event of some great emergency, it would be my photographs.

In the cedar chest in the study, there are also family photographs of relatives from long ago.  I don't really know many of them personally, but I do treasure those which include my parents and grandparents.  There are also papers that include information about my family tree, which I am glad to own.

Now at this stage, in our own lovely retirement home, I love everything  about it.  I love the furniture,  the paintings, the dancing statues, the shrubbery we planted, the flowers, my coffee pot, my comfortable bed, my computer, my Ipad.

But to tell you the truth, deep inside, I still feel transient  (which of course, I am.)

Grandparent Memories

Special Project, Questions to be answered:  Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

Both of my mother's parents, Roy Yarbrough and Helen Jeanette Shepherd Yarbrough (known as Jessie, I believe)  had died before I have memories, so I had very few interactions with them.

I have many vivid memories of my father's parents, Ma and Pa Poole, as they were known.

They are on the far left in the family photo.  Also in the photo, all six of their children, and the assorted grandchildren.  I think this may be the only existing picture in which all the family members are present.

There were many family reunions at their house.  The first house in my memory is when they lived in the "tar paper house with a tin roof and a slanted floor".  That is a very accurate picture of their country, very poor old shambled house.

One of the daughters  (Dottie, farthest to the right)   was dating an important, sophisticated fellow, and Air Force Officer.  She could not take him to the tar paper house, so apparently some family members went together and bought a "normal house" for my grandparents to live in.   In that house, I particularly remember rousing, loud, competitive games of Rook,  which even the youngest learned how to play, a card game.

A feather tic---a mattress completely filled with feathers, so when you laid down on it, you sank down and were completely enveloped, like a big feather hug

Homemade coconut cake---Probably as long as I live, I will never again have cake like that...made with real coconut, made incredibly moist by the coconut water (presumably),  pure white layers with a delicious white frosting, covered in shredded coconut.  I have given up on searching for recipes that might replicate it.  But I hold a special place in my heart for my grandmother's coconut cake!

Grandma Poole's rope of hair--her hair was down to her waist or longer.  It was totally straight;  she twisted it into a rope.  I can still visualize her doing that.   Then she twisted the rope into a round knot at the nape of her neck in the back, holding it in place with a few bobby pins.  It looked like a coil of rope in the back.  She never had any other hair look besides that one, for her whole life.

Always old---from the time I knew them, they were already old.  I don't know how old they might have been.  Based on when they were born, and when I was born, they were probably already in their sixties as I was growing up.  They were very poor and worked very hard.  Grandpa raised vegetables and sold them.   I remember that watermelons came in the trunk load, or the truck load.

Ma Poole---She made cornbread out of cornmeal and water and fed all the stray dogs from far and wide.  They lived under the house and waited until the food appeared.   One of the most vivid memories  I have about my Ma Poole is that she had a bit of magic about her.  Whenever there was a wasp or bee in the house, she would not kill it.  She would catch it by cupping her hands around it and taking it outside to release.  She never got stung.   Really!!

I still visited my grandparents into my 20's, when they were into their 80's, when I went home once a year to Mississippi. By then, they were in an assisted living facility.  Pa Poole's health was bad, but his memory was sharp.  Ma Poole's health was fine, but her memory was shot.  When I asked her how old she was, she said something like--28.  And the good thing is, she believed it.

William Michael Poole and Ira Mae Wells Poole

Cross Country Trip

One of several questions posed to answer in a special project sent by daughter Victoria:  
What is your most memorable trip?

I choose this trip as my most memorable.  The primary reason this one is so unusual is because of the length.   It was a 28 day trip, the longest time I have ever been away from home!

It was a cross country trip of 6348  miles.  

Planning the trip was a primary occupation of my winter months, as Gerry went skiing.

As the notebook will attest. the planning was very detailed.   We started with two basic ideas.  We would make it as far as Seattle, Washington, because I had never been to either Washington or Oregon before. Gerry had been for a professional meeting, but that probably did not involve many touristy activities.  

We did not want to spend all day every day in the car, so our goal was no more than 4 or 5 hours of actual driving per day, so that we could do spontaneous sightseeing adventures along the way.  Of course, there were places which required several days to see.  We spent a couple of days in Chicago,  in St. Paul, Minnesota, in Seattle.   Because driving in cities and navigating our way around them was so stressful, in every case, we opted to leave our car in the hotel parking garage and do our sightseeing on foot!   We could see as much as we desired to see by that means.

I had gotten maps, travelers guides, and trip tiks from Triple AAA.   I had made reservations at every stop along the way, there and back.  I had to figure out how many miles we could drive from place to place, and then the easiest place to stay, relative to the highways we were traveling.  Most of our evenings were booked at the Holiday Inn Express, wherever we could find one.  We made some minor changes in our plans along the way,  but never had any difficulties with our reservations. They were either expecting us, or happy to accommodate us.  Our least favorite place was the place we stayed in Seattle.  

Memorable things---it took three days to drive across Montana!  When we drove Route 2, the northern route just south of Canada, from east to west,  we rarely ever saw another vehicle!

We saw many interesting things and had many interesting experiences, which included a visit with Gerry's professor from Iowa State, who was well into his 90's.

Here is a brief list of some of the things we saw/did:    rolling hills, agriculture, covered wagon, buffalo, lava cone, rivers, waterfalls, wild sunflowers, museums, tennis, old friends,  botanical gardens, deserts, sculptures, hotel rooms, cities, small towns, Native American memorabilia, bridges, dams, machinery, highways, roads, roads, more roads, blue sky.

How Life Is Different

One of several questions posed to answer in a special project sent by daughter Victoria:  
How is life different today compared to when you were a child?

I understand that this question is probably about life in general, society in general.  What major changes have I seen, etc?   The arrival of color television, computers, cell phones, of course.  So many conveniences today that I could not have imagined as a child.  A dishwasher, for one!  A dryer  (we hung the clothes outside on the line!!).

But I think I will answer it more in terms of how my life specifically is different.   There is a huge world of difference between being raised in Mississippi and living in New York!

Growing up in Mississippi,  I lived almost exclusively in small towns.  Since my father was the minister of the church,  our lives revolved almost exclusively around church activities and events.  In that culture, most everyone went to one church or another.  The church and the culture of my childhood are so deeply enmeshed that I cannot pull them apart.  For instance,  the "training" of the girl child was to be sweet, never assertive or aggressive,  and totally submissive.  This expectation was tied to the biblical story of Adam and Eve, and other biblical texts which supposedly demanded that submissiveness.   The way that was lived out is that the women were expected to wait hand and foot on the men.  The men would sit.  The women would serve them.

The revolution of the 1960's and the 1970's changed all of that for me.   Those were the decades of the sexual revolution, and women's liberation.  Women's liberation in particular was at the forefront of television talk shows, and books, and conversations among friends.  No longer would women "know their place",  but suddenly women are expecting to be equal, and are not willing to be submissive.

Probably the biggest change for me is that I am now married to a wonderful husband who has not one iota of expectation that I "serve him" or wait on him.  He values an independent partner who pursues her own path in life.  He encourages, rather than seeks to control.

Life is different today compared to when I was a child primarily because I have been liberated!   I have been liberated from living a "role".  I have been liberated from narrow views of God and theology;  I have been liberated from both overt and subtle expressions of racism.  I have shed any notion that a woman cannot be a clergy, or a president!

I am so so liberated, compared to the child I once was, both in thought and action!

I do believe that I have retained some of  the more positive aspects of my "training" as a southern lady.  I am very unlikely to be unkind, or aggressive.  I do not swear.  I would never take the Lord's name in vain.

Even though the fundamentals of it have changed,  I have kept my faith.   By that I mean that the essence of the Christian faith has to be rooted in love, rather than judgment.

Farthest Traveled?

One of several questions posed to answer in a special project sent by daughter Victoria:  
What is the farthest you have traveled?

My longest trip was from Washington, D.C. to Honolulu, Hawaii---4800 miles.    It happened in 1971 when my oldest daughter Brenda was six months old.   I was headed to Hawaii to meet with my then husband for R&R.  He was stationed in Viet Nam at the time.   I lived alone in the D.C. area.  This was not a happy time or a happy trip.   I am sure that I drove to the airport and left my car there so I would have a ride back home to our apartment.

I packed carefully with all the supplies that I needed, which I could carry, along with a baby, baby carrier, purse, diaper bag, for the 12 or more hour flight.   I needed baby formula, as I was not nursing at the time.  I needed disposable diapers.

Unfortunately, there was an issue with the airplane, and it did not take off at the expected time.  Some maintenance issue had to be dealt with.     It was one of those terrible situations where you are stuck on the ground for hours.  Fortunately,  we were still at the terminal, and connected by the walkway from plane to terminal entrance.   The time on the ground grew longer and longer, and in the end, lasted for 5 hours.  Needless to say,  I was in a dire situation, since when I arrived in Honolulu,  I would not know how to get formula and diapers immediately.   I also could not risk running out half way over the Pacific Ocean!

I left the airplane crying, carrying my baby.  Back in those days, airline stewardess were caring and compassionate.   One followed me.  I went to a phone booth to call and cry to my father, who could, of course, do nothing to help me.  The stewardess asked how she could help.  What did I need?   I told her, and the airline actually sent someone out to a drug store to replenish my supplies!!

One thing that I do remember is that as burdened down as I was by things that I had to carry,  not once did I actually have to carry all those things.  There was always someone who stepped up to help me, a woman traveling alone with an infant.

Another thing that I remember is taking a taxi to the hotel where I had a reservation.   And true to the trauma of the trip,  the taxi driver ran into the car in front of him.  All I recall is that they yelled at each other for a while,  but I don't remember there being a police involved.  Maybe it was a minor fender bender.

Eventually,  my infant daughter and I did connect with her father,  who had never met his daughter.   She was born while he was in Viet Nam.    Sadly,  he did not seem much interested---in either her or me. We were strangers.

In his defense,  I might be gracious and say that he had just come from a war zone, and was numb and unable to express emotion.

On the other hand,  now with 50 years worth of perspective,  I could just say that was his true nature.   It did not get much better when he returned home six months later.   It took a very long time to get re-acquainted.

I traveled almost 5000 miles alone with a baby.  That was my longest trip.  And my hardest.

The Brass Cross

Folks at the small rural church noticed a smeary spot on the brass cross that sat on the altar table.  The blemish was just beneath the horizontal bar of the cross.   Mel, a parishioner, volunteered to take it home and clean it.  He reported back to the congregation his efforts.  He   tried Brasso, which had been suggested to him.  That seemed to make matters worse.   He also tried tomato juice which was also suggested to him, but that didn’t help either.  The conclusion was that after 65 years, it was no surprise that the brass was showing its age.

When Mel had no luck removing the stain,  he looked into the cost of replacing the cross. The name of the company was on the bottom.  He was surprised to discover that that company was still in business. The cost of replacing that cross was nine hundred dollars, a cost beyond the church’s means. Even the cost of resurfacing it was five hundred dollars, also prohibitive.

Bob, a man in the congregation said to the pastor,  “Can you think of a good story about Jesus on the cross and that stain?”

 “What if we looked at it differently?”  the pastor asked.

 “How do you mean?”  Bob asked.

“Rather than thinking of that spot as a stain, think of it the hands of all the people, over sixty five years, who have reached out to be touched by the love of Christ.   Countless faithful people have touched that cross and lifted it,  just like Jesus was lifted up for all of us, and died for us.   He took on our sin, so that we could be made into new creations, forgiven and whole. We leave our transgressions at the cross, on the cross.

The stain on the cross is a collective hand print of all those who love him. Perhaps it is a good thing that the imprint of God’s people cannot be removed from the cross of Jesus Christ.   We are imperfect, and in that imperfection, we leave something of ourselves on the brass cross.

He is perfect and leaves something of himself in each one of us.”

Being Mortal

I am reading a book entitled Being Mortal, written by Atul Gawande.  The subtitle is:  Medicine and What Matters in the End.

The book deals with the stark realities of aging and death---and what medicine can (and cannot do)  for better or worse.

The book is both moving and  insightful.  It is also very sad.  Many specific situations are cited about elderly people and their care needs, and the challenges to families, as abilities shrink.   All of the material in the book strikes me in a deeply personal way,  both from the perspective of the memories that I have of my mother's final years with Alzheimers, as well as from the perspective of  wondering what my own process of dying might be like.   I want to prepare for that in the best way that I can,  but reading this book reminds me of unpredictable the process of moving from independence to dependence, from frailty to disability can be.  There is no way to know what a person's process might be.

As I read about the elderly people and their resistance to being moved out of their homes and into assisted living centers, or nursing homes, that got me to thinking about how I feel about living in my (current) home.  And then it struck me---as much as I love this home, this house, as much as I enjoy living here and enjoying all the benefits of space and privacy, my own kitchen, watching the birds flutter and the grass grow, I realized that I have always felt that it is temporary.   In the end, everything is.

Tracing my own history reveals that the longest I have ever lived in one house is 13 years.  We have lived here for ten years now, which was my goal when we moved here. If we manage 4 more, I will have lived here more than any other home in my entire life.   That is surely a very different kind of feeling from someone who has lived their whole lives in one house, or 30 or 40 years.

And that kind of feeling of transience shows in our possessions.  Our furnishings are much more sparse than other homes I visit.  We do not own fine china, or have collections of treasures, or art.  We have comfortable furniture and a good solid bedroom set.  We have a spare bedroom for family overnights and a study with two computers.  I already know that none of our collective seven children are likely to want to acquire many of our possessions.  I am totally at peace with that.

The things that really matter in the end  (according to the book I am reading) are having a purpose, something/someone to take care of,  friends, companionship., having some control over our daily lives and choices.

In one riotous nursing home experiment described in the book,  every resident received a parakeet.  It was very effective in bringing life into their dreary existence.

If I end up alone, in my pre-assisted living, nursing home years,  perhaps I will acquire some furry friend.

A Mighty Force

I collaborate with Paulette Fry and together we create much music. In the past few years, we have created choral anthems and entire programs for Christmas, Pentecost, Reformation.   I write the lyrics.  She composes the music.  After that, a very talented choir director and choir bring the music to life.  Recently, Paulette asked me for lyrics for a song on the power of faith.   It will be special music in July.  Here it is.

A Mighty Force

Faith is a mighty force,

As powerful as the sea…

Faith can change world…

and transform you and me.

It only takes a small amount

No bigger than a seed,

To move a mountain, cure the lame, 

Or put a mind at ease.

Faith in God, can see us through

In the darkest of our hours,

Faith is a mighty force,

A daunting, awesome power.

Jesus said, “Believe in me, 

And you will be free,

of guilt and shame and fear.

I am the bread of life,

The shepherd of my sheep,

I know their voice and they know mine.

Believe in me, I am the vine,

Abide in me and you will find,

That I am the Way, the truth, the life.”

Faith is a mighty force

Yet a small amount is all you need,

To heal a child, or a disease,

To change the world, and greater yet,

To conquer the power of death.

For all eternity, for all eternity.

Faith is a mighty force

More powerful than the sea

Faith can change the world,

And transform you and me.

                                                                        Nancy Rehkugler, April, 2018

Easter Sunday Message for Children

I have something to show you this morning.

It is kind of dry and shriveled up.  Do you know what this is?

 

Yes, it is a bulb. It is not the kind of bulb that you put in a lamp to get light.   It is the kind of bulb that you put in the ground to get Life!  Out of this ugly brown thing, a beautiful flower grows.

I wanted to show you this today, because all of the Easter flowers in the church this morning come from bulbs.  Bulbs are a symbol for Easter.

Can you guess why?   You put bulbs into the ground where it is dark and they come out of the ground and come to life.  What does that make you think of?

It makes me think of Jesus in the tomb, who rose right out of death and into Life Again!

Let me share this lovely little Easter story with you this morning. 

Many years ago, Rev. Robert Barns was serving at a church in Philadelphia.  The church had just bought a nearby lot on which they planned to put a big parking lot.  A small patch of Easter lilies had been growing in the lot for the past few years, probably because someone from the church planted the left-over Easter lilies there.

The paving company came in and bulldozed the lilies.  Next they poured asphalt, then bulldozed over that.  Soon the congregation was using the new parking lot.

But the following spring, they began to notice something strange going on.  The pavement in the new parking lot was starting to buckle and crack.  Sure enough, the Easter lilies were poking up through the asphalt. ++

Almost every year, I see the same thing happen at the tennis courts where we play.  These delicate little yellow flowers push their way through the thick asphalt and blossom, which never ceases to amaze me.

And that is what Easter is all about.  Life is stronger than death.  You can bury life in the ground, but sooner or later, it will spring up once again.  Isn't that good news?

If an Easter lily can overcome a parking lot, imagine what you and I can do!

Thank God that Life is always happening!!

Venting

I do not usually vent on my blog, because I want it to be positive, uplifting, filled with hope.   At the moment, I feel like venting.  So be it.

Yes, I do generally enjoy really great health, with no major health issues or medication,  with one exception.  Like many Americans, I suffer from digestive disorders such as acid, heartburn, etc.

For a while, I managed that with Tums.  In time, the problem was eliminated with a prescription from the doctor.  Eventually, when I did not have a doctor, I relied on an over the counter medication, which was equivalent to my prescription,  until the word came that those were really bad for you.  So I decided to stop taking them.

That meant that I really had to completely change my lifestyle, which I did with some success.  That means eating dinner early, not eating too much,  watching what I eat,  no alcohol, no chocolate, and so on.

All of those lifestyle changes did not completely change the fact that I would still have the digestive distress, though it was much less disruptive.   The next step was to try and identify what the triggers might be.  I read on-line about what a number of possibilities are.  In the end,  it seems that the culprit is most likely wheat!

I do not believe that I have an intolerance, just a sensitivity. I do not get sick, just uncomfortable.  It has been really challenging to completely eliminate wheat from my diet.    If I were given a choice of the one thing that I most wanted to eat in all the world, it would be bread!  Bread, pastries, crackers, muffins and so forth.  Those are no longer in my life!   I grieve for wheat!

I grieve for wheat,
its rice cakes for me;
No more donuts or toast.
It's the crunchy things
not there for me that
I really miss the most.

Crackers and chips
and crispy things,
are not allowed for me.
It's apples and oats,
bananas, or in a
smoothie, all three!

Oh,  cookies, how I miss thee!
How I grieve for wheat!

Only the pain keeps me away
from the loaf of bread I want today.
Upon a muffin I would gladly pounce.

And yet, with my wheat-less life,
I do not lose an ounce!

An Unexpected Gift

I met a retired pastor named Rev. Doug Deer at a church event back in October.  Not long after that, he called me to ask if I might be interested in doing some pulpit supply at a church where he was preaching.  Doug was having some health issues, and wanted to step back from some of his work there.  After giving it a little thought, I agreed to accept two Sundays a month.  I began preaching at Groton City United Church of Christ in December.

Groton City is a small country church, as Doug described, in the middle of a corn field.  There is really no corn, but it is surrounded by agricultural lands and farms and a few houses.  There is no city.  Many of the parishioners are farmers, or former farmers.  What they really wanted was their own pastor.  And as it has turned out, much to my surprise, what I really wanted was my own pulpit!

The church is small with a congregation of around twenty five on a regular basis.  It reminds me of the churches of my childhood.  I am totally at home there!

Since all of this happened, Rev. Doug Deer has passed away from a serious heart condition.  I am so very grateful to him for calling me.  It was unexpected.

I have always loved preaching.  You could say that it is my passion.  Other aspects of ministry---meetings, denominational expectations, finance, building and grounds, are less appealing to me.  Groton City has none of those demands.

What is so surprising to me is what a joy preaching is at this point in my life.  Like never before!  I think perhaps that is because worship is the primary focus. I do not have to attend district or conference meetings.  I do not have to report every detail of attendance and finance in statistical reports.  I can simply relate to the people and enjoy worship, which I do indeed.

I feel like an athlete who has returned to my sport after a long absence, and am now doing that sport for no reason other than the sheer thrill of it!

Perhaps the most important benefit is for Gerry, who has always so loved my preaching!  He is happy now.  He feels at home there.  He is delighted, as am I.

What an unexpected gift!  And I am so very thankful!

Body Image Issues Reverse

When I was in my early twenties,  I decided to go on a drastic,  (medically supervised) weight loss program.  The plan allowed 500 calories a day.   The result of that was an amazingly quick, and considerable weight loss of 50 pounds in three months.   It was so drastic, that there were actually people who did not recognize me when they saw me after not having seen me for a while.

Of course, that was very thrilling,  or at least it would have been, if I had been able to process it;  if I had been able to see that change in the mirror.  But I could not.  When I looked in the mirror, surprisingly, I saw what I had always seen.   My mental image could not comprehend the new image in the mirror.   Because of that, for a long time, I continued to wear baggy cover-up clothes--nothing form fitting or touching my body.   It took many many months, if not longer, for my mental image to catch up with the reality of the mirror image.

Fast forward.  Now I am a senior citizen.  I gained most of that weight back over time, mostly in the past 20 or so years.  I gained and lost weight a number of times, through four pregnancies, and so forth.   I could probably be called a yo-yo dieter,  though I am less interested in diets these days than in eating healthy, nutritious foods.

But I have recently become aware of a strange phenomenon. When I look in the mirror these days,  I see the body of a much smaller person.   By what the scales tell me,  I am a much larger person than what my mental image suggests.  It seems as if my body image issues have reversed themselves.

Once, I could not see the smaller person I had become.  Now I do not see the larger person I must be. I'm not sure which one of those I think is better.

While I may not be the ideal size or weight I would like to be,  I am comfortable with my body, and in my own skin.   Most of all, I am extremely grateful for the wellness and health I have enjoyed thus far in my life.

That is worth infinitely more than any number on any scale!!

Palm Sunday

Ready for Palm Sunday and Children's Message

A Message for Children

Many hundreds of years ago, Jesus was preparing to go to the city of Jerusalem.  He entered the city in a very simple way--on a donkey.

People were happy to see him.  They were shouting  "Hosanna" which means, "Save us, Lord!

Many spread their coats on the road.  Others cut branches from the trees and spread those on the road.  That's why we call this Palm Sunday.

There's another kind of palm.  Can you think of what that is?   We all have one.   Even two!

Yes, the inside of our hands.   It is always with us.  In a few minutes, I am going to ask the congregation to wave their palm frond with one hand, and wave their other palm, too. The children and I  will wave our palm branches in both hands.   Whenever people are happy and excited, we often raise our hands and cheer and yell.  Right?

But before we get to that part,  I want to remind everyone that the palm we have in our hand is always a reminder that we can be God's hands helping other people.  We can help them up if they fall.  We can encourage others.  We can give a pat on the back, or a warm handshake or a hug.

So we can praise God with our palm branches today, but we can help others any time!

So here is our cheer.   The children and I will do the first part, and the congregation will give the response.

Children:  Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest!

People:  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!

One more time:  Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest!

People:  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!