Of Squash and Farmers Markets

Yesterday, I went to a farmer's market, the kind that happens only on a Saturday, the Mills River Farmer's Market.  It was in the parking lot of an elementary school, and the vendors sat under the pop-up shelters they brought.  We used to have similar green markets in South Florida, but in South Florida, I didn't find many vegetables.  There was jewelry and essential oils and various craft projects and flowers, but not much that was edible.

When I first moved to Columbia, SC for grad school, I went over to the State Farmer's Market, the very same one where my grandfather used to bring the truckload of vegetables from the family farm in Lexington, SC.  It was an institution of permanent structures by the time I discovered it in the summer of 1987 with lots of 18 wheeler kind of trucks, not the kind my grandfather had driven.  I remember late on day, I got a great deal on a bushel of yellow squash ($3!), and only later did I wonder what I would do with that many squash.  After I gave away as much as I could, we ate squash for days and had frozen squash through the winter.

Yesterday, I drove through beautiful mountain vistas, more than I needed to, because of the way the roads were named.  Only on the return trip did I find the correct road--from the other side of the street, the road name changed.  In some ways, I didn't mind--the surroundings were so beautiful.  And finally, I found the farmer's market.

Baby butternut photographed on my back deck in Arden, NC

I was delighted to realize that the farmer's market offered a variety of vegetables, some organically grown, some not.  The farmers were there to answer questions.  I noticed a basket of winter squash like these with a large pumpkin that had a sign:  "These squash will be ready in 25 days."  When I expressed my delight over the baby butternut squashes and asked how much, the farmer said, "Well, they're really not for sale."  Then she gave me one with my corn on the cob purchase.

I bought a variety of tomatoes, 4 ears of corn, and a cucumber.  I also got baked goods and some smoked fish dip.  We ate well yesterday, and we will eat well again today.

My uncle stopped by on his way back from rafting with my cousin's family.  It was a joy to sit on our back deck, eat baked goods that I had just bought, and catch up.  It seems to be the kind of neighborhood that encourages this dropping by.  And unlike other neighborhoods I've lived in, I'm happy to see our neighbors.  One even brought us some tomatoes and cucumbers from her garden.

I wonder if there will be baskets of summer squash that will appear when the zucchini yield is bigger than expected?

Camp Christmas in July

Today is the last day of the summer 2022 summer season at Lutheridge, the church camp and conference center. The last week has been Christmas in July.  What a strange treat!

At the beginning of the week, as I took my morning walk, I didn't notice much that was different.  But as the week went on, Christmas began to take hold:

I thought I saw lights through a distant window, and then, when I walked on the porch of the dining hall, sure enough, there were lights!

I don't have a picture to demonstrate my favorite morning memory from the week.  On the lawn of the Faith Center I saw a huge inflatable of a Disney snowman--Olaf from Frozen maybe?  As I walked down the hill, a group of elementary school girl campers hiked up.  They exclaimed in such wonder that I turned to see what they were seeing.  One of them had said, "Oh, it's so big."  And indeed, it did seem to loom up in the distance.

As I continued my walk down the hill to the lake, another set of campers hiked by.  Their counselor was trying to get them to sing "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" to distract them from the steepness of the hill.  I sang along.

Last night, the Lutheridge Residential Community was invited to closing vespers.  Through the years as I've thought about what it would be like to live at Lutheridge, I had thought about going to vespers each night during the summer, which may no longer be an option.  So I wanted to make sure to go last night.  Plus, during my walk, I had seen several tables full of paper bags.  I had a vision of luminarias lighting the way to the chapel.

It was not that kind of service.  But after all, it was designed for a much younger crowd.  We had glow sticks instead of candles and song sheets that I didn't need because I had been singing these Christmas songs for 57 years.

It will be interesting to see how my experience of living on the edge of a church camp changes in the next few weeks when the campers have gone home.  I've enjoyed seeing them as I've been out and about this week.  I am sure the camp will offer other delights when campers have gone.

 

Feast Day of the Bethany Siblings

In the decades/centuries before 1969, on July 29, we would have celebrated Saint Martha, one of few named women in the Gospels.  Now we celebrate not only Martha, but also her sister Mary and their brother Lazarus.

In a way, I think it's a shame, as each of these siblings deserves their own feast day.  But today let us ask if we can we learn something from celebrating all of them together?

In many ways, Martha is the most famous of the siblings, and I've written about her extensively.  Many others have written about Mary.  I'm intrigued by the people who go back to the Greek to try to prove that Mary actually had some authority, that the reason that she wants to sit at the feet of Jesus while Martha gets the meal ready is that she had been out and about in the countryside, in the way that the disciples had been sent.

Lazarus, also famous, is one of the few humans brought back from the very dead.  He didn't just die an hour before Jesus arrived.  He had been dead for days.  I've always thought he deserved a story of his own, a follow up.  I'm not the only one who thinks this, of course.  Yeats is one of the more famous writers to revisit Lazarus after the tomb; I should revisit his play "Calvary."

Depending on how you attribute the various references to the women named Mary (all the same Mary?  Who is the sister of Martha and who is the Magdalene?  And then there's the mother of Jesus), Martha gets more space in the Gospels than her two siblings. We see her complaining about Mary not helping her, and we see her scolding Jesus for not coming earlier to keep her brother from dying.

I have always sympathized with Martha, and I still can feel the shock that come when Jesus doesn't.  But in my later years, I see compassion in the words of Jesus when he reminds Martha that she worries about many things.  It's only been in my later years that I see Martha's anxiety in a more clinical way.  It's only been in later years that I see the harm in Martha's behavior, the way that obsessive anxiety for the ones we love can destroy so much.

Do I know what to do about my own obsessive anxiety?  I know a few tricks, sure.  I haven't explored every possibility; so far, I don't take any meds for my anxiety outbreaks.  When I'm in the throes of an anxious day, I wonder if it's time to find a health care provider who can prescribe them.  When I'm having a normal day, I think that I am managing just fine.

In some ways, I see a thread running through the stories of these siblings.  Christ shows up to tell them that they're not doing fine.  One of the siblings, Mary, is open to Christ's message, while Martha is not.  We might think it's too late for Lazarus, but it's not.

Once again, I find myself wanting to know what happens in a year or two or ten.  Does Lazarus return to regular life?  Having lost him once, does his family appreciate him more?  Does Martha ever get a handle on her anxiety?  Does Mary go out to create the first convent?  Or is she so tired of having to deal with her sister that she finds a solitary existence in a nearby desert?  

The Gospels give us such small snippets, but that leaves us room to find ourselves in these stories.  One of the benefits to feast days and lectionaries is that we have the opportunity to return to them periodically to see if we're finding something new.

This year, I'm reminded that God works in ways that humans don't fully understand, and that we need to resist the impulse to micromanage the miracles.  But even if we don't, God won't go off in a huff and abandon us.

This year, I'm hoping that humans can also model that behavior.  We're beset with anxiety, as are those around us.  Let us remember that resurrection can still occur.

Pronouns and Singing

Two weeks ago, as I listened to the Lutheridge Music Week rehearsals, the director mentioned how he had changed his use of pronouns.  No longer does he say, "The women will sing this part" or "The men come in here."

Now he says, "The higher voices will sing here" or "The lower voices should come in here."  And as he directed, he did indeed use that language for the most part.  He did this even though he had a fairly traditional choir in terms of gendered distribution.  He could have used the older designations:  there weren't any women singing bass or tenor, not any men singing in a higher register.  

I can't help but notice a certain fury about pronouns in certain parts of our national discourse and on social media.  Some of the fury is couched in outrage about precision and language, and yet, I'm guessing those people don't really care about that level of accuracy.

I was impressed with how the choir director quietly modeled inclusion and precision, and with how he reminded his choir, many of whom would go home to direct their own choirs, of the importance of that inclusion.  And in later conversations over meals, I heard about people who had been rejected from choirs because they didn't sing in a traditional way--their voices were too high or too low, and they weren't allowed to sing in choirs organized by gender.

It's hard for me to imagine that there are people out there who are still so deeply committed to a strict gender binary that they would be so exclusionary and hateful.  How naive of me--and how encouraging that there are directors out there, working to make the world a bit more inclusive and encouraging us all to do the same.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 31, 2022:

First Reading: Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Hosea 11:1-11

Psalm: Psalm 49:1-11 (Psalm 49:1-12 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 107:1-9, 43

Second Reading: Colossians 3:1-11

Gospel: Luke 12:13-21

Here is another Gospel where Jesus tells us how to live, and he does it both directly ("Take heed and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions") and through the use of a parable.

In this parable we meet a common figure in Jesus' parables, the person saving up treasures on earth. Recognize yourself? We've moved away, many of us, from needing larger barns, although I've met more than one person who moved to a bigger house, just to have room to put all their stuff. In fact, the average square footage of new construction grows increasingly large, while the US family grows smaller. Barn, silo, house--it's all the same to Jesus. And it all goes back to the human need for security. We store up treasures because we're so afraid of the future.

It will be interesting to see how the recent economic upheavals might change us. Will our houses grow increasingly large when fewer people can afford to buy a house? Will we trust more in God, since we've seen how much we can trust in our economic institutions? Or will the events of recent years make us that much more graspy and scared to share?

Jesus comes to preach the radical Gospel of sharing. One aspect of his good news? We have a Creator who will provide for us. That news is supposed to free us up to give away what we have. Not just our surplus, but all of it.

Most of us don't even do a good job of giving away part of what we have. We're not good at sharing. We're good at hoarding, although if you look at the US savings rate, you might argue we're not even good at that. Most of us fill our longing for security by buying more and more and more--and wondering why we feel so empty.

We live in spiritually dangerous times, and the Gospel speaks to that. But most people, if they think about this concept, would tell us that the spiritual danger lies in a different place than Jesus tells us. Ask most people about spiritual danger and they'll talk about a toxic popular culture (video games, movies, song lyrics), public violence, private violence, wanton sexuality, moribund government, fundamentalists of all stripes, liberals, conservatives--the list could go on and on.

But again and again Jesus tells us to look to how we treat the poor and oppressed, that we will be judged based on how we treated the marginalized. Jesus rarely preaches about the family (he never mentions homosexuality), and when he does, he sounds downright anti-family. Again and again, Jesus tells us to pay attention to how we think about our money and how we use it.

Usually, as we get more money, we want more money. We turn our attention to building our wealth and securing our wealth--and it takes a lot of time and attention. That process takes time and attention away from what matters: our relationship with God and our care for God's Kingdom.

Again and again, Jesus calls us to recalibrate our values. Again and again, Jesus reminds us to turn to God. Again and again, Jesus calls us to have the courage to trust God and not our money.

Healthy Habits

 Today I hope to get back to my healthiest habit of taking a daily walk--my other healthiest habit of eating plenty of fruits and veggies will have to wait until we have a fridge.  I should probably take a multivitamin to make sure I'm getting enough nourishment.

There are other habits I need to get back to--sketching will need to wait until our furniture catches up with us and perhaps until I get more mobility in my wrist.  I need to get back to poetry writing--that took a back seat as I packed up the house.

It is also strange to think about establishing habits, since in a month, I will be in a new place, needing to establish new habits there.  But in a way, these habits should transfer.  All of my classes will be afternoon and evening classes, so if I establish morning habits, those should be able to transfer to seminary housing with me.

It is interesting to feel this possibility of a much more leisurely pace to the morning.  In South Florida, I had to get my walk in before the sun came up.  

I am also realizing that I didn't bring much in the way of reading material with me.  How could I have forgotten to keep a few books out of the boxes for this transitional time?

Let me also record some delights of the past few days.  We went to the closest Lutheran church yesterday--they had an outdoor bluegrass/country service for their 8:45 service.  We brought our lawn chairs, as the website suggested.  Once I got settled, I realized that one of my Create in Me retreat friends was there.  After the service, my spouse greeted friends he had made during his time on the Novus Way board.  It's cool to realize that we already have some roots in this area, deeper roots than I may have realized.

Sunday afternoon, a Lutheran Student Movement friend from long ago college days stopped by.  She and her husband were on their way back from a family event nearby.  She offered to pick up lunch, which I thought was generous.  I thought she meant they'd grab some fast food, but instead, she brought a beautiful picnic with a cooler that we can keep until we see them again.  I'm glad, since we had leftovers.  

We had great conversation on our beautiful deck.  It was a warm day, but the deck was comfortable.  Our house doesn't have AC, so we could have stood it with the fans going, but it was better outside--and that's not something I said often during the summer months in South Florida.  How wonderful to get back to the healthy habit of resumed friendships.

It's light enough to walk now--let me get ready.  But let me also choose a line from my collection of abandoned lines that led me to some good poems in the late spring and early summer.  Let me set the stage to have a poem percolating.

Here's the line:

Make your new porridge in a dented pot

A Look Back at Moving and First Mornings

 Tomorrow, I will puzzle out the best approach to daily walking; today I will write a blog post about the last several days, and then I'll get ready to go to the 8:45 bluegrass service at the local Lutheran church.  Yesterday, before the internet installation happened, I sat on the back deck watching the light change as the sun rose, and the light made its way across the mountains.

Of course, I can't actually see the mountains from my deck, but I know that they are there.  I can't see them because of the trees, but I get a sense of the view we will have when the trees drop their leaves.  By then, my primary residence will be student housing at Wesley Theological Seminary.

Before we get too far away from moving day, let me write a blog post about that.  It went very smoothly, which was more of a relief than I have words to express.  The moving team showed up right at 9 and went right to work wrapping all of our furniture in blankets and packing tape.  They were done by 11:30, and then there was paperwork to sign.  We did a quick cleaning of all the places we couldn't clean when the moving team was there, and then we went to the car, which was already packed.

It was almost anticlimactic.  It felt like there should be some sort of closing ceremony.  Instead, we drove 10 hours north.  Back when we thought there was a chance that the moving van would be at our new house the next day, we wanted to be close.

I usually make a long drive by getting up very early in the morning to get ahead of traffic.  It was very strange to get on the road by 12:30 p.m.  We had a surprisingly easy trip to our grad school friend's house in Columbia.  I felt a subdued euphoria as I felt my worries about the logistics of moving out of a condo evaporate.

The next day, we had a leisurely breakfast after I called the moving company just to make sure there wasn't a chance that the moving van was already in Arden, North Carolina wondering where we were.  My spouse did the kind of toilet repair that's simple if you know how to do it, but mystifying/terrifying if you don't--much more useful to our grad school friend than taking her out for a meal to say thank you for her hospitality.  Since I didn't know for sure when we'd have internet connectivity in our new house, I got some grading done while they did the toilet repair.

We headed to Arden after an early lunch.  We got the car unloaded and did some organizing.  Our grad school friend loaned us an air mattress, but we needed a place to sit.  After an early dinner at a local brewery, 12 Bones, we got two durable lawn chairs and some groceries.  We sat out on the back deck watching the sun set.  

We continued to sit on the back deck, sipping wine and listening to all the insects sing in the dark.  We saw the occasional firefly.

Saturday morning, my spouse slept, and I returned to the deck to watch the light change as the sun rose.  I drank coffee, ate granola bars, and read Melissa Studdard's Dear Search Committee--what an engaging and delightful book of poems.  It was a great way to start the day.

The internet tech showed up right on schedule at 10 a.m., and the installation went smoothly.  I had worried about it a bit--this house was built in the mid 70's, and it hasn't been wired for anything, not even a landline phone.  But by noon, we had internet, and even better, both laptops can access it.  Yesterday we allowed ourselves a slower day, with grocery shopping and watching The Big Year, the birding movie with the great cast. We saw it when it first was available on Netflix, but that was several houses ago (meaning at least 2012 or earlier), so it felt new.

I am fascinated watching my brain work, going from anxiety to anxiety.  I don't think I need medication, although I have wondered.  I have a variety of self-soothing techniques that I've picked up from years of worry.  These past few days will be part of those techniques, as I remind myself how often I worry about things that end up going smoothly.

The Feast Day of Mary Magdalene

 On July 22, we celebrate the life of Mary Magdalene. Take a minute with the reading for her feast day: John 20:1-2, 11-18.

There are many approaches to Mary Magdalene. Some people focus on her notorious past, while a variety scholars remind us that she might have been painted with the brush of prostitution to discredit her. Even to this day, she is rarely mentioned outside of the fact of her demon possession. For some, these are the demons that bedevil many woman, both ancient and modern, the demons that come with a patriarchal culture. Others might think that demon possession was how ancient culture understood mental illness.

Why hasn't the Church focused on her healing and subsequent steadfastness, rather than what might disqualify her from worthiness? Whole books have been written on that.

As I've been spending time with female saints, both the kind recognized by popes and the ones far from canonization, I've been thinking about how these centuries of church history might be different if we had treated women differently. Let's begin with Mary Magdalene as an example.

The theologian Cynthia Bourgeault wrote a book about Mary Magdalene, and she notes that Mary's presence at the resurrection is mentioned in all four gospels, either alone or in a group, but always there, always named. Most scholars agree that when a detail is present in more than one Gospel, it demands our attention and deeper consideration.

Mary Magdalene's presence at the resurrection is so important that all four Gospel writers include it. Why do we so rarely consider this in our modern churches?

Bourgeault calls our attention to this passage from Matthew 27:61: “And Mary Magdalene and the other Mary remained standing there in front of the tomb.”

She says, "How would our understanding of the Paschal Mystery change if even that one sentence [from Matthew 27: 61] was routinely included in the Good Friday and Palm Sunday Passion narratives? What if, instead of emphasizing that Jesus died alone and rejected, we reinforced that one stood by him and did not leave?—for surely this other story is as deeply and truly there in the scripture as is the first. How would this change the emotional timbre of the day? How would it affect our feelings about ourselves? About the place of women in the church? About the nature of redemptive love?" (found in this meditation)

As I have settled into midlife, I've had similar thoughts. What if we had celebrated Mary Magdalene as the first witness to the resurrection? What if we celebrated her as the one who was first to
tell of the resurrection?

For that matter, what if instead of celebrating the evangelizing apostles who went out with very little in their pockets, we celebrated the ones who stayed to build up the communities that the apostles created? We rarely celebrate settling deep roots into a community and staying put. We often see those churches as stagnant and out of touch, even if they're the ones supporting the local elementary school and teaching new immigrants and running the food pantry.

Most of us can't be the kind of disciple that leaves family and commitments behind to traipse the country. Many of us have been raised to believe that's what Christ wanted us to do--there's a Great Commission after all that tells us to go to all the lands and make disciples. We don't hear about the families that the apostles left behind. How are they supposed to cope?

The lives of Mary Magdalene and other saints show us that there's more than one way to make disciples. There's more than one way to be missional.

Throughout our lives, we will suffer all sorts of death and loss.  The world will give us many tombs.  Today, let us focus on the ways we can remain steadfast and true to our callings. Today let us remain at the tomb alert for resurrection.

The Values Revealed in the Moving Process

Packing up one's possessions for a move across multiple states is somewhat similar to analyzing data for a budget. It's a process that, at its best, requires us to ask if we're living according to our values.

Once, I could have fit everything I owned into a car. Of course, I could do that because someone else was paying for the larger items, like furniture. Now, having done a hurricane evacuation or two, I know that most of what I still value most can still fit into a car. However, if I have to sleep in my car or on the floor for too many nights, I'll miss the bed I've left behind.

Once, I moved once a year, as a grad student, always on the hunt for more affordable housing. That process helped me with the winnowing of possessions. Back in those days, we actually did move ourselves. We knew the weight of our possessions.

This year, we are lucky that we can afford to pay for movers to do the heavy lifting. But we're still using this opportunity to evaluate: to think about how often we use an item and whether or not it's really worth the cost to move it. I'm also trying not to be too hard on myself for having an abundance of stuff.

If we are aware at all, we know that even the poorest person in the U.S. probably has more stuff than poor people in other countries. And as I have packed up to move, I have wondered if the fact that I have this stuff means that poor people elsewhere have even less. I am also aware of the sweatshop cycle of many of our consumer items: the item is made in a factory in a far away country, shipped to the U.S. and sold cheaply--then once the consumer gets tired of it and donates it to charity, it often makes its way back to the original country where poor people of that country access our castaways.. This process is most common with the clothes so many of us wear.

Over and over again, throughout the sacred scriptures, God calls us to envision a better world, one where there is enough, and people don't have to rejoice over the cast away items of the rich. Over and over again, we hear the poets of the Bible and the prophets calling us to live as if that world is already here--the inbreaking country of God, the one that is both here now, but not yet fully developed.

Moving time is a great time to analyze what we're doing to make this inbreaking country of God more apparent. But we don't have to wait until we move. We can do this any time--and the world would be a better place if we did this assessment on a regular basis.

Where are our lives in sync with God's values? How can we make changes to help the inbreaking country of God take root?

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 24, 2021:

First Reading: Genesis 18:20-32

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Hosea 1:2-10

Psalm: Psalm 138

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 85

Second Reading: Colossians 2:6-15 [16-19]

Gospel: Luke 11:1-13


This Sunday's reading shows Jesus teaching the disciples to pray. Many of us have been praying since childhood, so we may have forgotten, or never known, how radical this idea would be: we're allowed to talk directly to God????!!!!!

And then the next question might be: what should we say?

Jesus knew what he was doing when he gave us this prayer. Anyone who knows humans knows that we do better when we don't have to make everything up as we go along. Most of us have memorized this prayer as children. In fact, I know grown up children of non-religious parents who were taught this prayer--perhaps as a sort of spiritual immunization? I imagine parents saying, "Learn this prayer--you never know when you might need it."

It surprises me how often we probably need this prayer. It's good to have prayers pre-written for us. There are times when we try to pray, and we can't come up with what to say. This prayer that Jesus teaches us covers many of the concerns that we would bring to God, if we didn't feel so muted.

We pray for our daily sustenance. We pray for forgiveness. Some translations interpret this passage as a kind of debt relief ("forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors"). Marcus Borg notes that these two aspects--food and debt--would have spoken to Jesus' followers in the first century, who often found themselves short of bread and currency. Many Jews found themselves in a downwards spiral as they leveraged their land, and eventually lost their land, to pay an increasingly heavy tax burden imposed on them from Rome.

Modern people increasingly can relate.

We pray not to be led astray. I like the language "save us from the time of trial," but all the variations speak to me. I often pray an expanded version of the Lord's Prayer and include them all, praying not to be led into temptation, to be delivered from evil, and to be saved from the time of trial. Sometimes I meditate on the fact that I expand and focus on this part of the prayer, while I tend to assume the regularity of my daily bread. I suspect that people in other countries would focus on other aspects of the Lord's prayer.

Notice that Jesus doesn't tell us we have to be in a certain mood to pray. We don't have to wait for the right time. We don't even need to come up with the language for ourselves. Christ provides it.

And then at the end, Jesus gives us imagery to teach us how God will listen to us: as a loving neighbor or better yet, a parent. Jesus once again reminds us that our God is a loving God. We are to ask for what we need. We should not be afraid to yearn. God has not abandoned us to our own devices. We have chosen to partner with a powerful force when we pray--and yet, it's not a distant force. God loves us, the way a parent loves a child, offering love and protection and comfort.

Jesus gives us a simple prayer. Most of us have already memorized it. But how many of us pray it outside of church?

Maybe it's time for a mid-year resolution, something simple. Try praying the Lord's Prayer daily. Maybe twice a day. Pray when you wake up, and say a quick prayer, asking God to help you become your best self throughout the day. Pray before you fall asleep, and say a quick prayer of thankfulness for your many blessings. You'll be amazed at the change in your attitude by Christmas.

Fireflies and Choirs

 I don't have as much time to write this morning--I have last visits to the physical therapist today and Wednesday.  But I did want to make sure that I collected one last memory from camp.

We had several evening worship services in the chapel on the top of the highest point at Lutheridge.  It's got a vaulted ceiling and windows that have no glass.

The closing worship on Friday night started a bit later than our other evening worship services, and it was longer, because the choral group was presenting their five pieces of music.  Their last song came back to this line:  "Oh Love, that will not let me go."  It's a powerful idea of God, set to powerful music.

As they sang the line, I noticed several fireflies blinking above the choir.  It felt so magical, like a sign of something positive.  I knew I could never capture it with my camera, so I'm capturing it with words.

It was the perfect way to end a wonderful week at Lutheridge.

Music Week Retrospective

A week ago, we'd be at the start of our Music Week adventure.  Let me write a recap.

We realized we could be in Columbia, SC at the church where my spouse's brother would be preaching.  And so, we made it happen.  We met my father-in-law and stepmom-in-law just before the service started (the GPS took us on a circuitous route), and we enjoyed an excellent worship at St. Andrews Lutheran Church.  Afterwards, we had lunch together and caught up.

Then we were off to Lutheridge.  We drove through rain that wasn't in the weather forecast, and we arrived safely.  We were expecting to have lodging at Thornberg, but we found out we were assigned to Bacot, which was being used for staff housing for the week.  Luckily, there was extra room, and the staff assigned to Bacot was generous in sharing their space.

Being in Bacot meant I had no internet access in the early morning.  In a way, that was good because I had time to read; Jennifer Egan's latest book is very good.  But in a way, it was bad.  I am home now, with work I need to do for my online classes.  And those of you who have been following along know that I have lots of other work to do to get ready for this week's move.

I took my laptop to the Faith Center, where I was able to access the internet, while the choir rehearsed.  Almost every Music Week participant sang in the choir, but I didn't feel like I was too odd for not singing.  I enjoyed working while the choir rehearsed, and I enjoyed the fellowship the rest of the week.  We had a great Bible study of Philippians, and every worship experience was wonderful.

My spouse had grumbled about not having time to participate, but he did end up singing with the choir and having a good experience.  We tried to get some moving related tasks done:  we brought up 2 cars' worth of belongings, which we unloaded.  We bought a mailbox and a post, and my spouse got that put up.  We started the process of bringing internet access to our house that has never had it.

I knew that the food would be different from camp food during the rest of the year.  Wow--it was different.  For example, one day at lunch we had corn dogs.  I haven't had a corn dog since childhood, and it's a food best left in childhood.  But we also had a picnic at the lake, which was picturesque.  Otherwise, meals were served family style, which meant lots of passing of platters and then the passing of dishes to the head of the table.  And the level of noise in the dining hall meant that we couldn't have meaningful conversations at meals.

We went to a hymn sing/festival at a church in downtown Asheville, which had much better music than I expected--and it was a beautiful setting.  I look forward to returning to Asheville to explore; it has changed a lot since I was last there.

In short, we had a great week, despite a few bumps along the way.  I'd do it again.  And now, back to the tasks of moving.

I am trying not to feel anxious about this week, but my brain is getting out ahead of me.  We have 2 moves scheduled with the condo building.  On Tuesday, College Hunks Moving Junk take the items we haven't been able to get to Good Will:  the piano, the monstrous floor lamp, and the sideboard.  On Thursday is the big move.  This morning I'm worried that the office thought I was canceling the Thursday elevator reservation for the Tuesday reservation, even though I did say at least once that I wanted both dates.  I'll doublecheck tomorrow.  

But let me focus on what's going well.  It's taken awhile to get information about seminary housing, but on Friday I got an e-mail that says I'll be in a 2 bedroom.  Hurrah!  I had begun to fret that maybe I'd get no housing, even though I've been told that I'd be in a 1 bedroom at the very least.  See how my brain works?  

I wish I could say that my brain will learn to be less fretful, and in some ways, I am a bit better at calming my anxieties.  So, let me focus on the tasks that must be done: getting stuff packed.  My brain will feel better with stuff packed.

Camp Dispatches

I am continuing to write while the choir practices.  I'm staying at camp lodging with no internet connectivity, so I sit here and type.  It's progress--2 weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to type at all.  Still, my internet time is limited.

Here are a few brief snapshots from Music Week:

--When the choir first started rehearsing the music, I thought, I bet I could do this.  As I've continued observing, I've been glad I decided to sit out this experience.  I have a serviceable voice sometimes.  This choir is for people who are much further along than I am.

--The time when choir rehearses is the best time to do my required internet activities:  checking in with my online classes primarily.  Today I did my applications for the 5 jobs that the unemployment benefit process in Florida requires.

--The drumming has been fun--much more my speed.      

--I've been able to be part of the team that decorates the chapel for worship.  Here's a picture of what we created for Tuesday night, with it's theme of Psalm 23 and the Jeremiah passage that talks about return from exile:

--I could be so happy having this kind of ministry--working on creative responses each week to the Gospel.  That could include a written meditation for the newsletter, a visual image for meditation, the altar space . . . I would like to be the specialist that does such things.  Could my ministry be just that and not visiting the sick, tending the building, etc?

--Today is my birthday.  Perhaps the whole camp will sing the song to me.  But if they don't, that's O.K.

--Was the dining hall always this noisy?  It's impossible to have any sort of conversation over a meal.  And I am missing hot chocolate on cool mornings served in battered aluminum pitchers.

--Music Week is much more scheduled than I remember as a kid.  But we are finding time to get some stuff done to get ready to move (a week from today the moving van will have come and the loading of possessions will be underway!).  We've unpacked 2 cars' worth of stuff, and we've bought a mailbox and a post.  This morning, we washed a load of clothes in the washer and dryer that came with the house.  Judging by its avocado color and smaller size, I'm fairly sure it's a circa 1975 washer/dryer all-in-one unit.  And it still works!  In fact, it looks like it hasn't been used much at all.     

--I am trying not to rhapsodic about the weather.  It's been gloriously cool in the morning.  In the afternoon, I can walk from a building to a car without sweating a drop.  Amazing!  We've slept with the windows open (we're in Bacot, not in our new house that has no furniture).

--And on a non-camp note:  this morning was the first time that I woke up without my wrist feeling like a wooden block.  It's not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a sign of progress.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 17, 2022:

First Reading: Genesis 18:1-10a

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Amos 8:1-12

Psalm: Psalm 15

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 52

Second Reading: Colossians 1:15-28

Gospel: Luke 10:38-42


Ah, the Mary and Martha story, another story that's familiar to many of us who have been going to church through the years. It's one of those stories that provokes howls of rage from people. Like the story of the Prodigal Son, it may trip our "That's not FAIR!!!" switch. It's easy to see how the Good Samaritan is the model for our behavior. The Mary and Martha story prickles us more.

Many of us were probably raised to be the Martha. I have a friend who won't let herself even exercise until her household chores are done, so engrained is the idea of "work first, play later" into her psyche--unlike some of us, who see exercise as one of the daily chores that must be done before we can play.

Think about the last time that someone visited you. If you're like many of us, you spent the days and weeks before the visit getting ready: cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, restoring order. By the time your guests arrived, you may have been too exhausted from getting ready for them to be fully present.

That's the story we see in this week's Gospel. Martha scurries around so much that she can't be present for Jesus. How often are our current lives similar? We often get so consumed by the chores of our daily life that we neglect to notice the Sacred in our midst.

Keep in mind that even though the story revolves around women, men are not exempt from this paradigm. All humans must wrestle with the question of how to balance the chores that are necessary to sustain life with the spiritual nourishment that we need so desperately. Unfortunately, often the chores win.

I can hear some of us shrieking by now: "Yes, but those chores must be done!" Really? Are you sure? What would happen if you didn't vacuum this week? What would happen if you wore your clothes an extra time or two before laundering them? What would happen if you surrendered to the dust?

Jesus tells Martha that she worries about many things, and the implication is that all of the issues that cause her anxiety aren’t really important. It's a story many of us, with our increasingly hectic lives, need to hear again--maybe every day.

We need to be reminded to stay alert. Busyness is the drug that many of us use to dull our senses. For some of us, charging through our to-do lists is a way of quelling the anxiety. But in our busyness, we forget what's really important. We forget to focus on Christ and living the way he commanded us.

Give up one chore this week, and return to the Gospel. Notice that Jesus never--NEVER--focuses on the household chores. Jesus doesn't say, "Blessed are those who keep a clean house, for those have already possessed the Kingdom of God."

You may think that Jesus said, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." Jesus did not.

All of our busyness takes our focus away from God. God will not appear with white gloves to assess our spiritual progress by way of household upkeep. The assessment of our spiritual progress will focus on much more serious issues than those.

All those chores keep you away from your earthly relationships. Jesus called on us to care for the poor and the dispossessed, not the dusty objects that clutter our houses.

Jesus reminds Martha that Mary has chosen what’s important: listening to God. What are you choosing today?

Choir as Metaphor

 I am writing this meditation at Music Week at Lutheridge. I'm in the back, writing on my computer, surrounded by the beautiful music of a choir rehearsing, and I've been thinking about that phrase that tells us we all have a space in God's choir. But which choir? And what do these choir experiences at camp have to do with life in church community?

At Music Week, we learn that there are many choirs. Yesterday I listened to the flute choir rehearse, and I thought about how many people experience church as flute choir: you have to have the right instrument, and you need to be able to read music. Many people feel as out of place at church as I would if I joined the flute choir, since I don't play flute. I would not even try to join the flute choir because I would assume I would not be welcome.

Well, then, what about a choir like handbells? Anyone can chime a bell, right? But I still need to have a sense of the music--I still need to count beats. And if I'm playing handbells, not handchimes, I need white gloves. It can be intimidating enough that many people wouldn't attempt handbells either. I was enchanted by handchimes for small children; they were made of plastic and metal and lightweight enough that I could ring them with my wounded wrist. But not all of us will have the good fortune of experiencing these instruments as children. How do we claim our place in the choir?

I'm intrigued by the Orcha-Band Choir--just bring the instrument you want to play. This year it's heavily brass and woodwinds: 3 flutes, 2 saxaphones, a french horn, a trumpet, and a violin, with a piccolo coming later in the week. In the past, it's been more strings. What will it be in future years? How do we plan for such a choir? How will it all come together? I don't know--and God's community (communities?) often feel the same way. Some people thrive in such a choir, while the possibility of uncontained chaos can drive others crazy.

What about a voice choir? We can all sing, right? And even if we can't, if we sit with others who are singing, our voices will sound better. And when the harmony works, it shows the beautiful physics of harmony in the most potent way, like the promise of the beloved community made incarnate, right here, right now. But some of us are so convinced that we can't sing that we won't even try.

I am partial to the drum choir. The leader keeps a persistent rhythm, and the rest of us can go with the rhythms that work, even if we've had no practice and no sense of music theory. We can make a percussion instrument out of the lowliest materials or the most elevated. People of all ages can play. People who have one hand out of commission can play. I find the drumming group most welcoming and inclusive, but I realize that the very openness I love would make it untenable for some musicians.

And all of it gets a bit too loud at times, if I'm truthful. Some hours at camp, the choir I crave is the one that holds silence. I'm lucky here--I can go for a walk. And if I'm perceptive, I hear other choirs during my walk, the ones usually drowned out by human music, like the tree frog choirs that sing through the night. And there are firefly choirs that need no music at all.

Jesus came to give us the good news that we have all sorts of communities we can create. There are many choirs for us, many ways to know God. We have spent centuries thinking that Jesus came to give us just one way to get closer to God. We have wasted precious time fighting as we tried to figure out what choirs would gain God's approval.

Jesus tells us there are many ways to know and understand God's love. The trick, of course, is finding the way that works best for us. We don't have to journey alone. Music Week reminds us that it is good to make music under any circumstance, but making music together can bring us joys we might not achieve by ourselves. Jesus, too, reminds us again and again that a loving community is worth the effort.

Off to Music Week

Today I'm doing something I've wanted to do for a long time:  I'm returning to summer camp as an adult camper.  This week, I'm joining my parents at Lutheridge for Music Week!  I last went to music week in my early teenage years, back as the 70's were moving into the 80's.

I'm guessing much will have changed, and I hope to blog about it through the week.  

My Grandmother's Dining Room Set and Other Possessions

In 2 weeks, our move out of South Florida should be underway.  The moving van is scheduled for the morning of Thursday, July 21.  When we were moving ourselves in a U-Haul, we planned to drive part of the way after packing the van.  I assumed we would need to stop along the way because exhaustion would set in.  

Part of our packing process has been getting rid of stuff.  We've taken carloads of stuff to Goodwill and to our church, the 2 charity groups which are benefitting from this phase of our move.  I have a vision of Goodwill dumping our castaways directly into the garbage, but hopefully some of it will find a new home.

Now we are down to the bigger stuff, the furniture that we can take over in the car.  The biggest object, the piano, we've hired someone to take away on Tuesday, July 19.  We think we can get rid of the rest of it.

This morning I'm thinking of my grandmother's dining room set.  We began getting rid of it a few years ago when we got rid of the dining room table and chairs.  While I liked the way it expanded with a hidden leaf, it was never comfortable to sit at, and the chairs scratched the wood floors, no matter what we tried to do.  Plus it had lots of knobs on the legs, which made it hard to keep dust-free.

For this move, we're getting rid of the sideboard.  When we first got it, we used it to store extra tableware and linens in it.  In our last house, before the big kitchen remodel, we used it as extra counter space.  Lately, I had been using it as dresser to store clothes.

We are keeping the china cabinet.  We have a lot of china from my grandmother, and the cabinet holds it and displays it nicely.  Why are we keeping the china?  We will have 2 households for the next few years, so we may as well use the china.  My spouse has always wished we used the china more, and now we'll see if it's as usable as he thinks.  At this point, we don't have a dishwasher at either of the places we'll be living, so the fact that the china can't go in the dishwasher isn't the issue it has been in the past.

We are also getting rid of the radio cabinet that came from my grandmother.  It used to hold very old radio/record playing equipment.  A few years ago, we took that out and made it into a cabinet.  My grandmother used it primarily as a surface to hold her African violet plants.  I feel a bit sorry to see it go, but it doesn't work well as a cabinet--the doors don't like to stay closed.

We are keeping the roll top desk and the cedar chest, as well as a variety of smaller, more portable items.  In some ways, I wish I was the kind of person who held no sentimental attachment to things, but I do--that's how I came to have them.  In some ways, I know I'm fortunate in all sorts of ways, some of which are symbolized in these possessions handed down to me.

 

Of Wounded Wrists and Other Poetic Possibilities

Yesterday I went to the dentist, an appointment I dread.  I usually leave a routine cleaning with a bloody mouth and sometimes worse.  I have very hard teeth, very prone to plaque, and also, very prone to pre-gum disease conditions.

Yesterday I left the office feeling no pain, and it's not because I was given a sedative.  I am saddened to announce that two weeks before we move, I've met the best dental hygienist I've ever had in over 50 years of going to dentists and orthodontists.

I came home, made and ate an early lunch because I hadn't eaten before my dentist appointment, and settled in to file my unemployment claim for the past 2 weeks.  In order to get the puny amount of unemployment money that is due me, the state of Florida requires me to log onto the clunky online system to apply.  I have to list the five jobs I've applied for each week and to let them know if I've earned any money from other sources.

Yesterday was the first time I had money to report, which led to an interesting experience with the clunky online system.  I couldn't make the pull down menu work, the spot where I was to choose from past employers.  I figured out a work around, but it took time.  And this was after the website crashed at an earlier point, and I had to log on again--happily, the information already entered wasn't erased, but the log on process takes time.

It seems a metaphor for modern life somehow.

I know that lawmakers have made this process harder than it needs to be.  I am trying to claim unemployment benefits, not charity.  I am entitled to these benefits because I was let go from my job.  This shouldn't be so hard.  Because I am entitled to this money, I keep trying however.  I will be interested to see if these weekly amounts of money will be reduced in light of what I earned.  At that point, I may change my mind about whether or not this is worth it.  

Then it was off to the physical therapist.  As we work on getting more mobility to my wrist, these visits are harder, both physically and emotionally.  We measure progress in very tiny increments, and I'm making progress, but there's still a very long way to go.

I had a lot of pain through the night.  I probably should have given in and taken some ibuprofen, but I don't always have that presence of mind in the middle of the night.

I am thinking of my trip to LTSS (Southern Seminary) and how strange it was to be surrounded by images of Christ with nail marks in his hands/wrists while I had my own hand and wrist in a cast.  And this morning, I'm thinking of all of those stories of Christ after resurrection, when showing the nail marks established his authenticity.

I'm thinking there should be a poem in all of this.    

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 10, 2022:

First Reading: Deuteronomy 30:9-14

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Amos 7:7-17

Psalm: Psalm 25:1-9 (Psalm 25:1-10 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 82

Second Reading: Colossians 1:1-14

Gospel: Luke 10:25-37


This week's Gospel presents one of the stories that even non-Christians are likely to have heard before: the story of the Good Samaritan. Those of us who go to church have heard it so regularly that we may have lost sight of the message. The fact that we hear it so regularly should tell us how important the message is.

We could focus on the fact that it's the lowly Samaritan (a foreigner! one of the most despised/feared members of society!) who helps the victim, not the priest and the Levite, who hold high status in the Jewish society. We could focus on the victim, who, after all, invited trouble by traveling alone. In the details of how the Samaritan doctors the victim, binding his wounds with oil and wine, we see the foreshadowings of Christ's crucifixion.

But go back to the story again. Note the first few verses of the Gospel; in many ways, these verses sum up the whole Bible: Love God and love each other more than you love yourself. Most of us, when hearing those commands, say, "Great. I'm on target. Love God--check. Love other people--yup, most of the time." The story of the Good Samaritan is told to demonstrate what Jesus means when he gives us the Great Commandments. And here we see the size of the task that Christ gives us.

Many of us think of Love as an emotion, something that we feel. Here Jesus shows that that kind of emotional love is cheap, and not at all what he has in mind. We show our love by action, what we do for those who need us. It's not enough to see our fellow humans and think about how much we love them. Frankly, many of us can't even do that. Monitor your thoughts and feelings as you drive around town, and be honest. Are you really feeling love? Most of us are lucky if we can pull off feeling benign neglect. Many of us go through our days feeling murderous rage. Many of us go through our lives numbed by depression and pain, and trying desperately not to feel anything.

There's a way out of this pit. We must go through life behaving as if we love each other. We can behave ourselves into love. We don't have to start out by stopping for every crime victim we see. We don't have to start out by giving away our money.

Although these are worthy goals, we can start where we are. When someone cuts you off in traffic, offer up a prayer for them. Smile at your snarling comrades at work. When someone wants some sympathy, offer it. Leave the waitstaff a more generous tip. Help out, even when you don't have to. Stop keeping track of who has done what, and you must stop right now, if keeping that list makes you feel aggrieved, because you've done so much more than everyone else. Instead of keeping track of your losses, keep track of gratitude. Share what you have, and it's especially important to share what you have with people who haven't had the lucky breaks that you have had.

In this Gospel, it's easy to see the Good Samaritan as a Christ figure: the outsider who stops to help, who takes charge of the victimized who have been left to bleed to death by the side of the road, the one who finds care for the victim and pays for it. We often lose sight of the fact that we are called to be Good Samaritans to the world.

Once you start looking for opportunities to bind the wounds of the world, you'll find it easy to do that task daily. And then you'll fulfill the greatest commandment. God makes it clear that we show our love for God by loving each other.

Returning to Romans

This week in A Women's Lectionary for the Whole Church, we have a reading from Romans. It happens to be one of the parts of Romans that has been important to Christians across the centuries. In seminary this spring, we devoted a week to the study of Romans 5: 1-11, which tries to answer the question, “What shall we do to be saved?” Paul’s answer is that we can do nothing, but through Jesus, we have access to God’s grace, and we can be reconciled. God made these arrangements even before humanity knew it wanted to be saved. In other words, the initiative comes from God, not from humans. This passage can be interpreted through the lens of atonement theology: Jesus had to die so that humans can have eternal life.

In Romans 5: 1-11, I can see the power of Paul’s ideas, but I can also see how they have been misused through the ages. I am most distressed by Romans 5: 3-4: “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope” (NRSV). I read these verses, and I sense a huge history of this passage being used across centuries to tell people not to work to alleviate suffering. Or worse, I see this passage being used to tell people that suffering is actually a positive thing.

I don’t think that Paul would approve of his writing being used this way, of course. I do understand that this passage can be used to give us comfort during the times that suffering does come into our lives. I also think these passages can be dangerous because sometimes (often?), suffering does not bring perseverance, character, and hope. It’s just as likely that suffering breaks a person and for a variety of reasons, recovery isn’t possible.

This theology seems to be a sibling of the “God never sends you more than you can handle.” What do we then say to the person who suffers and doesn’t see themselves as persevering and developing character? What do we say to the person who loses all hope because of the immense suffering they have endured?

I am also troubled by the language of humans being God’s enemies and needing the blood of Jesus to save us from God’s wrath. I understand the centuries of Christian theology that have stemmed from these ideas, but I find substitutionary atonement theology problematic: God, who is so creative in other areas, can't think of any other way to save humanity? The fact that this theology is easy to misuse to manipulate people makes it even more troubling. We know that crucifixion was used for enemies of the state, threats to the Roman empire. Jesus wasn't crucified because of the sins I would commit 2000 years later. Jesus was crucified because worldly authorities saw his teaching as so threatening that it justified this punishment, so that others would take heed and be obedient to the state.

I do see the appeal of God saving humanity without humanity needing to perform actions to prove themselves worthy of saving. I am a Lutheran, and the concept of grace is important to me. But Paul’s theology in Romans has so much potential for misuse that I just can’t escape my feelings of unease as I read this passage.


It's important to realize that Paul wasn't writing for us. Paul thought that Jesus would be returning to earth in a year or two. Does that knowledge change how you see the passage? For a group of seminary students in the spring of 2022, it did. We were able to appreciate the positive parts of Paul's message in a new way.

Independence Eve

As we head towards this July 4th holiday, we have any number of reasons to feel despair. We have a variety of ways to be worried about the future of both this country, the U.S., and the larger world. We know that we live in an ever increasing interdependent web of countries. If things aren't going well for one country, it seems only a matter of time before ripples affect us all.

We may look back to past days and think that it was easier then. But even a quick glance at history shows us that life has always had a fair amount of struggle. Recently I've looked at the movements of Jesus as he preached and taught and attracted followers and always moved on to the new place, the next place. In my younger years, I thought it was about finding new disciples and bringing the good news to people who wouldn't have a chance to hear it if Jesus didn't head to the next place and deliver it himself. The more I have learned about life in Roman times, particularly during the time of Jesus, the more I wonder if he was on the move as part of his resistance strategy in the face of empire.

We don't have to follow this model in the face of hard times. We can look to the example of monastic people, throughout the centuries. In their abbeys and monasteries, monastics saw the hardness of life and responded by creating an oasis of hospitality, with a commitment to learning and to preserving what knowledge had come down from the past. Monasteries and abbeys were often open to all sorts of people, especially those who were marginalized and outcast. And these places of deep hospitality have often reinvigorated the larger community and reshaped it into something better.

Jesus showed us what can be done by finding a core group of people who share a commitment. The history of the church also shows us that hard times offer opportunities for transformation, both personal and societal.

When the founders signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, 1776 they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor, so great was their belief in what they were doing. It's a good day to think about our commitments, our values, what we hold most true.

Here's an interesting thing to ponder: for what would you be willing to pledge your life, your fortune, and your sacred honor?

Today let us say prayers of thanks for those who have done the hard work of fighting for liberties of all sorts. Let us pray for those who are still oppressed. Let us pledge allegiance to our God who sets us free.

Saturday Snippets from a Week of Travel

Before too much time gets away from me let me record a few last snippets from this past week of travel and house buying:

--I am astonished at how hard it can be to wire money. We couldn't do it with our online banking because we couldn't get the right combination of ATM pin and numbers on the back of the card. So we went to the bank. We had multiple forms of ID, most of them with pictures. But the bank had to call the phone number connected to the account for security reasons. Unfortunately we opened that account so long ago that the phone number on file was our home phone so we couldn't pick up the phone and tell the bank worker in front of us what the security number was.

--Eventually we gave up, and we got an old-fashioned cashier's check. I have expected to get to the lawyer’s office and have him chide us for using such an old fashioned way of delivering money. Instead he says he prefers a cashier's check because there is so much wire fraud out in the world.

--He took our check, we signed a few documents, and 10 minutes later we owned a house free and clear. It was the easiest home closing we have ever been part of.

--As we were driving out and about, we saw a small bear across from the Asheville regional airport, which is actually in Arden NC—not a wilderness area. I suppose we should add getting a bear proof trash can to our list of things we need to purchase.

--One of the advantages of having a 6th floor condo is that we have had less trouble with pests of all sorts:  no roaches, no rats, very few bugs. I will miss that aspect of condo life.

--After the house closing, we went to our newly purchased house to unload a carload of fragile things, mostly lamps and framed pictures and four boxes of china from the china cabinet.  Then we needed food so we went to our favorite pizza place. Unfortunately because of staffing issues, dining in was not an option. So we drove in the other direction and ended up having a very good meal at the 12 Bones Brewery. I am not always impressed with brewery food, but this barbecue and the side dishes were delicious. We shared a flight of beers, along with a larger glass of a stout that we were fairly sure we would like; they were all tasty. The beer was the most reasonably priced beer I've had in a restaurant during non happy hour times. This brewery is just a few miles from our new house, so I imagine we will be going back--however next time we will probably share a main dish because the portions are huge.

--On our drive back south on Thursday, we stopped at the campus of LTSS, more commonly known as Southern Seminary. We walked around the campus, which was a nice break.

--Our drive back was grueling:  foggy mountains to begin, lots of rain to end. But we made it home safely. Not everyone was this lucky. We sat on I 95 at Melbourne, Florida for over an hour. When we finally got to the accident site, it seems an 18 wheeler had plowed into the guard rail--and there was a car in between them. I can't imagine that anyone in the car made it out with no injury, but perhaps. I said a wordless prayer--for them and for all of us, trapped between a speeding semi and a guard rail (interpret that symbolism how you like--it seems to apply to most of us, except those at the very top).

Planning, Coincidence, and God

Yesterday I wrote about how we came to buy a house at Lutheridge from a non-spiritual point of view, a more rational point of view. Today I want to write about a different angle. Let me confess from the beginning that if you told me such a story, my rational brain might not accept what you were saying.

I fell on April 15th, and I knew that I had done something to my wrist.  I thought it was likely to be a sprain because I didn't hear any cracking sound and it didn't really hurt too much. But I didn't go to the emergency room or go to get x-rays. I was planning on leaving to go on a retreat in a few days, plus it was Easter weekend, and I had a lot to do. But really, some part of me really thought I had only sprained it.

In retrospect, if I had gone and got an x-rays before I left, I probably wouldn't have been able to go on the retreat because I would have needed surgery. As my sister said, if I hadn't gone on the retreat, I wouldn't have made the comment to my pastor friend about still wanting a Lutheridge house, and she might not have thought of me when she learned of the house coming on the market.

is this the way God works in the world? I don't believe that God made me trip and fall and break my wrist, so why would I believe that God might be involved in other ways? But the pieces have fallen into place almost effortlessly, and when that happens I do tend to believe, even as my rational brain scoffs, that God is at work on some level.  Even if I don't believe that God is at work in my life this way, I do tend to think that a decision is the right one if it's all coming together effortlessly--even as I admit that it may just be coincidence.  On the flip side, if things aren't working out, I don't necessarily say, “Well God must not want it to be this way.”

I do think that we came to have this house through a remarkable series of events:  call them coincidences, call them God sightings, call it luck. The people selling the house have a deep connection with my pastor friend, as do we. A certain level of trust was already there because of these deep connections. We had seen the house before, so we didn't feel like we needed to spend 24 hours in the car to see the property one more time. The people selling the house wanted to sell to someone with deep connections to the camp, which we have--my mother was a camp counselor there during one of its earliest summers being open. And the biggest piece of all:  we had recently sold our house in a flood zone in a hot market, so we had money to invest.

Luck, coincidence, God at work, friends looking out for us, planning both careful and haphazard—perhaps our latest housing adventure is a mix of them all.  I am so grateful.