Miracle of Healing

I had an MRI last week to take a look at the chest wall before seeing my breast surgeon next week.  I don't think about a cancer recurrence much in my daily life.  I believe I am healed and go about my business.

But I have known for a year that I would need to have this MRI right now - I see this doctor once a year and she wanted the pictures before my upcoming annual appointment.  Little did I know how much the anxiety of this test was roiling under the surface, even though I wasn't consciously aware of it!  Last week, it suddenly dawned on me, how much anxiety was right there all year that I had not acknowledged - it seemed so obvious all of the sudden and explained some of my bad habits this year (like eating too much).

I am not sure why this kind of denial was so important to me.  Maybe it's because I fear that thinking about a recurrence is to doubt my faith.  Maybe I just don't want to give cancer more of my thoughts and energy than it has already consumed.  Maybe it's just a survival tactic because I can't function as well if I am constantly living in fear.  Maybe it helps me focus on things that I can do and that I can control.

But the irony is of course, that the more I deny anxiety and fear, the more control it exercises over my actions and my life.  I am wondering today about how to live out some of the benefits I need without the unhealthy, unacknowledged anxieties underneath.  How do I live in the tension of consciously dealing with the fear and anxiety without giving it too much attention and energy?

This is still a challenge for me as I continue to progress to the significant 5-year survivor mark.  This month marks 3 years since my initial surgery.  I am overjoyed to say that the MRI results came back normal!

Celebrating the Moment

Last week I drove Daughter to a friends' house.  I saw two houses next door to each other - one with their Halloween decorations still on the lawn, and the other with their Christmas lights lit up.

Me?  I am just trying to plan Thanksgiving.

Really Big God-Sighting

God showed up in an amazing way on Tuesday. I received a call from a social worker at the hospital down the street; she had a patient who fell while working his tree-trimming business.  He was in a wheel chair and needed to move to a rehabilitation center.  Sounded simple enough.  The problem was that they were out of money and did not have the gas to drive an accessible van four hours away to the center that could take him.  They had received some gas help, but needed more to make it there and back.

I am completely out of discretionary money for the year, but I wanted to help (I have a soft spot for tree surgeons because my brother is one).  I thought I could just take the money out of my own pocket; I told the social worker I wasn’t able to get the gas card until the later afternoon, but that I would bring it to the hospital by 4 pm.

I was making one more call from the office before I left to get the gas card.  I was checking in on a deeply spiritual member (I’ll call her Jane) and also conferring with her about a small blurb for the newsletter.  While I was talking with Jane on my cell phone, the church phone rang.  Everyone else had left the office, so I put down my blue tooth and answered the phone.  It was the wife of the gentleman from the hospital who needed the gas card.  I told her that I could get the card for a QT which they thought would be easiest to find, that I would do it soon and drop it off, and that no, I had not figured out how much it would be, yet.  Then I hung up and went back to my conversation with Jane.  This is what she said to me:

Pastor Linda, I couldn’t help but overhear that conversation and I have a $25 QT gas card in my purse!  I get them from work sometimes, but I don’t need it, so I was looking for someone to give it to.  I’ll go over and meet this family and pray with them and bring them this gas card.  Do you have a suggestion for a Scripture I could use?

We were both bowled over, because she had been home from work for a personal day and felt that this opportunity was an answer to her prayers!  We talked about reading Psalm 121 and off she went, living out missional church in her personal life.  Later that evening, we talked again and Jane emphasized that this kind of ministry is something she can do.  She offered to assist me with these kinds of visits and needs.  I was wowed again; I do need help, but it hadn’t occurred to me to ask.  Sometimes I think and behave as if this ministry is all up to me, but God keeps reminding me in big ways that it is not.  We do this ministry in a community of many and diverse gifts.

Photo: Copyright (c) 123RF Stock Photos

Surviving Puberty after Cancer

Daughter just turned 12 – the third and last of our fall birthdays.  After school one recent afternoon, she was sitting on the couch reading her first Seventeen magazine, ordered through a recent school fundraiser.  I was picking up the house, cleaning the kitchen and generally organizing for the evening when I noticed she became very agitated and restless.  Soon Daughter started firing questions at me like, “Why do you give us those stupid frozen vegetables instead of fresh ones?” and “How come I get applesauce in my lunch instead of fresh fruit?  I hate grapes, why can’t we get something else?”

 I found this a bit strange coming from a girl whose primary food group is ice cream.

Silly me, I tried to answer her questions with reasonable answers, explaining that when we’re out of fresh vegetables, frozen ones hold the most nutrients, and so on.  She was not impressed.  She became more agitated and unsatisfied, looking as if she just realized that everything in her life is WRONG.

Finally she blurted out, “This magazine says that you can reduce your risk of breast cancer by exercising regularly between the ages of 12 and 24.  I told you I wanted to do volleyball and why won’t you go out everyday with me to roller skate after school?”

Finally, we were getting somewhere.  I stopped trying to answer her questions and sat down on the couch next to her.  I asked gently, “Are you feeling afraid that you will get breast cancer?” 

Daughter glared at me through her bangs, “Yes!”  And with a little more defiance in her voice, she added “and it’s all your fault!”

Indeed.  I cannot argue with pubescent, capricious reasoning.  Neither can I wrap my head around what it must feel like to be a pre-menstrual developing girl, newly growing what your mom recently had cut off.  How does one blossom into womanhood with confidence and self-acceptance when it feels like you’re growing a couple of ticking time bombs? 

I do know what it’s like, however, to be the mom of such a girl.  Most days it feels like I am flunking.  I try to walk the thin line between honesty and hope, between past events and future possibilities, between living healthily and letting go of haunting anxiety.  This is a tall order for a grown woman, much less a young girl with a rapidly changing body. 

I know that this is beyond me; I cannot fix or control her experience.  I do try to embrace that the real gift is that I am here—I am here to grow through this with her.  I pray that in the long run, this will make all the difference.

Sweet 16

This week, Son#1 turned 16 and earned his driver’s license.  I have known this was coming; we even bought a third car so he can help us with errands in addition to driving himself to school.  Because we planned for this and in many ways looked forward to it, I did not think I would be upset by this life transition.  Not so surprisingly, I wrong.

I am usually out of sorts in September before all three of our children have their birthdays within a span of 2 weeks.  A new school year has begun, they are moving forward in their lives, and time has brought us to this moment before I am ready or feel old enough to be here.  I want to shout at the passage of time which makes all of my kids closer to moving away from home. 

So, this year was harder than usual.  I had a good cry during my devotions on the morning of Son#1’s birthday, and realized how so many things changed on that day.  I am afraid for his safety on the road and my inability to protect him. I am sad that as he grows older, he needs me less often and for fewer things.  I am worried that I just won’t see him enough and that I have now lost the time we used to have in the car.  I am called to be a different kind of mom. 

I would love to have a family “blessing of the keys” to mark this transition, but I need this and Son#1 does not.  I will take my cues from him and bless the keys in the quiet of the morning before he rises and drives away. 

Answered Prayer or All You Need is Love

Earlier this month I was pondering a relationship in which I was getting frustrated.  I didn't want to be angry and needed a new way to talk about a few things without discomfort or tension.  In the shower one morning, I prayed and prayed, asking for help and guidance in what to say and do.

A few minutes later, I was busy putting on my makeup.  The clasp on my compact is broken, so I have a rubber band holding it together.  I took off the rubber band and threw it on the towel I had lining the counter while I quickly proceeded with my morning transformation.  When I was done, I looked down to pick up the rubber band and was stunned at what I saw.  The rubber band fell in the shape of a perfect heart.  Not a lopsided heart, not a broken heart, not an imagined heart - one that if you turn your head a certain way and squint your eyes, it might look like a heart - but a perfect heart with a small circle for the indent at the top.

I stared at it for a moment and began to realize it was the answer to my prayer!  All this person needs is LOVE.  When I love them and focus on that, all other things will work out in time.  A sense of peace flooded over me.  I can make things so complicated sometimes when the answer is pure and simple.  Then I grabbed the camera.

I followed this message of love in my next conversation with the individual I had prayed about.  Of course the interactions with this person improved.  Later on, when I was feeling down and frustrated about myself, I thought about the rubber band heart.  The message was for me also.  When I generated loving thoughts toward myself, I immediately began to feel peaceful.  The Beatles were right, all you need is love (and open eyes to see answered prayer).

God Moments

I can see that God is up to something at the congregation I serve.  New energy and movement in our community mission and outreach pumps through some of our projects, people actually see the Holy Spirit at work, and some new people are visiting and joining.

As a response to these happenings, I have changed my morning prayer to something like this:  God, I can tell you are up to something - How can I help what your doing?  How can I get out of the way, so I don't hinder what you are doing?  Please us me to serve you today.


This helps me pay better attention to what is going on around me and in my interactions, pulling me out of my own head and my never-ending to-do list.  When I am focused on my agenda and tasks, I can blow right by the God-moments that are there for me and for others.  I can't sit and wait for them, of course.  It's a mental trapeze act for me - pay attention and work; be present and productive.

One day last week, I was in my office late in the afternoon- a time I am not normally there; I was hoping to get some things done when no one else was around.  I barely got started when someone stopped by.  At first I was a little annoyed because my plan was not working out; however, as we sat and talked I slowly caught on.  Deep conversation, prayer and encouragement took place that was a blessing to us both.  When this person left, it became even more clear to me why I felt compelled to be at the office at a time outside my normal schedule.  It was a God-moment.  This week I hope to pay attention to more of them.

I Love NY

I am still reflecting on the healing nature of this summer and marveling at the fact that I feel better and more myself than I have in over 3 years--well before I was diagnosed.  I have more energy, I am finally feeling results from regular exercise, I am more content with a deeper sense of inner peace.  Some things that used to rattle me, make me mad or defensive no longer have such a grip on me; I am more centered in myself and clear about my opinions, wants and needs; and I feel more emboldened in sharing them when appropriate.  It seems that God has worked no less than a miracle in my life.

I remember a week after returning from vacation, I couldn't remember anything, I couldn't track what I was supposed to be doing, I couldn't remember the date or where we were in the month.  The next week, I felt like a new person---like God had spent a week re-wiring my brain for a new stage or chapter in my life.  It sounds rather corny, but this is what I experienced.

Part of the healing came about in our near-perfect two week vacation.  It was one of those magical times as a family where things went well, everyone got along (for the most part!), and we all enjoyed what we were doing.  If there was a day that wasn't our personal favorite, there was something the next day to look forward to that kept us going and moving together.

We drove to Manhattan via Detroit (saw friends from the first congregation I served 20 years ago), Niagara Falls (riding the Maid of the Mist was an awesome and favorite experience!), the Baseball Museum and Hall of Fame (we all loved it!), a friends' lamb farm (we held triplet lambs!), and Ridgewood, NJ where Dan grew up (the kids think he had a better childhood than they're having!).  We took in all the usual sites in NY with the special treat of getting together with our friends Paul and Eric, and seeing Kelsey Grammar star in Las Cage Aux Folles on Broadway.  We spent a couple of days at the Jersey Shore and took in the NJ Six Flags Great America where we got to ride the Kingda Ka- the tallest fastest roller coaster in the world.  There's nothing like going 128 mph within 3.5 seconds to shake out whatever ails you.  I felt like I was in a cartoon with my cheeks and eyelids flapping in the wind.

This whole vacation experience released us to feel that life is good again; we affirmed that we have much for which to give thanks.  We were drawn out of ourselves and looked out at the world with new eyes, seeing opportunities everywhere to celebrate, learn, grow and move forward.  We started to get past the rut of letting misery and hardship define us.

I never thought of vacation in this way before.  But doing something completely new opens the way for the Spirit to work on us and in us for wholeness and peace - in our children and in us.

A Healing Summer

My children went back to school last week; my “blog vacation” has come to a conclusion, so here I am!

My family and I have had the most amazing summer. Now at the end of it, I feel as if God has lifted a burden from me I didn’t know I was carrying. As a family, we were able to close the chapter on “The Terrible Awful” of the past three years and gained a fresh start. If you know the story, skip to the next paragraph. J We have been through the serious illness and death of both of Dan’s parents, my breast cancer diagnosis and a 9-month disability period for treatment, a $10,000 tax bill and equal fees in medical costs, my mother’s chronic illness (she is still steppin’!) and a host of other health issues like sprained ankles, joint and muscle strains, physical therapies and a severe concussion to name a few.

By the grace of God, we are still standing, functioning, glad to be alive and grateful to God for seeing us through. We are stronger emotionally and physically and we are humbled and filled with awe at the help, support and prayers that have carried us along the journey.

Our spiritual transformation this summer began by going to Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian camp and conference center in the high, red-rock desert of northern New Mexico (http://www.ghostranch.org/). It’s a rejuvenating place with Continuing Education classes for Dan and me, camp and service corps for the kids, hiking, worship, swimming, horse-back riding, community-life and resting in a beautiful, spiritually-infused setting. We have been to Ghost Ranch several times, so much so that it’s like our kids’ second home. But our last visit prior to this year was the summer before all of “The Terrible Awful” started three years ago.

Being at Ghost Ranch again was like a salve to our souls. We felt a completeness, a symmetry, a spiritual order for our lives fall into place. Being renewed at Ghost Ranch gave me fresh eyes to see that we could start a new season, a new chapter of our life with our faces forward, filled with hope.

The class I took at Ghost Ranch was a significant part of this healing for me. Called Pages in Our Book of Life, From Our Biblical Ancestors to Our Descendants, we explored the women of the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament). We learned the archetypes these Biblical women can represent for us, identified these characteristics in our own foremothers and in ourselves, and reflected on how to pass on to our children these spiritual discoveries. This class was co-led by Rabbi Paula Winnig, who added yarn, spinning and fabric arts to our conversation and experience, and Judaic Artist, Sara Novenson. Please go to http://www.novenson.com/ to see her amazing paintings of NM landscapes and Biblical women.

Learning from and experiencing so many dimensions – more than I have ever encountered in any other class – contributed to the deep healing effect this class had on me. We studied the Bible, we listened to music and read poetry about the women we studied, we explored the artistic process Sara went through to create her paintings and the archetypes she discovered, we wrote prose and poetry, and we painted our own stories or experiences. Visit Sara’s blog at http://novenson.wordpress.com/ which describes our class, shows some of our paintings and Sara’s description of the event.

This is just the beginning, there is more to come, This summer does get me wondering if I can change the name of the last three years from “The Terrible Awful” to something new…

Komen Walk

Last Saturday I walked in the Komen Race for the Cure in St. Louis with 71,800 of my closest friends! It was my first time in the walk - we are often out of town when it occurs and last year, I just didn't feel I had the stamina--physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual--to do it because my experience of cancer was still too close. For my first walk, my husband and Daughter joined me (Son #1 was just home from a mission trip and Son#2 had a sprained ankle) and we walked with some close friends as part of their group from work.

It was truly amazing. We enjoyed the Survivor area before starting the walk; I got a free massage, we took a free picture, we drank chocolate milk and orange juice and talked with other survivors. I met a woman who was a 5-year survivor at the age of 28. Survivors came in all shapes, sizes, ages, colors, classes--such diversity. This disease shows no partiality from what I saw.

I wore my bright pink Survivor shirt and received congratulations from many. One man along the route looked like an avid biker with a leather vest full of pins--he dyed his hair pink and cheered us along the path. He looked straight at me and with such sincerity said, "Congratulations on being a survivor, ma'am!" "Touche'," I thought, “I really am a survivor!” He had a way of making me feel so good for having beaten it.

I was on the verge of tears nearly the whole time. I really cried when my husband and Daughter filled out the sign to pin to their shirt that said, “I walk in celebration of my wife,” or “I walk in celebration of my mommy.” When I looked down the street once we turned the first corner of the walk and all I could see was a massive sea of people, I cried. I found out later that my husband, too, was on the verge of tears, especially for the first hour. I was awed and grateful to be alive and to be with such an enormous amount of people all committed to the same the cause. I realized that it doesn’t work to compartmentalize my life and put this experience away, as if in a box on the shelf. I will continue to integrate it into who I am, while not letting it define me or what I can do.

Learning from the Natural World

Last week I saw two marvelous gifts of creation. We have a creek that runs through our backyard. There is about 20 feet of “common land” that belongs to our subdivision which goes from the edge of the creek up to our property line. Anyone is free to walk along the creek on the common land, which makes for a great green space to walk the dog, exercise or do a meditation walk.

Every year a mallard couple returns to the creek to lay their eggs. Last year, I never saw the ducklings, who are often brought down the creek to swim and feed behind our house where the creek ponds. But during dinner a week ago, there they were—twelve ducklings and their mom, scraping the rocks for food with their bills and swimming. I quietly went down the steps of the deck and got as close as I could without scaring them off. The mom quacked some orders as they moved back up the creek. None of the chicks strayed far, and they marched up the creek like they were playing follow the leader. They were in fact, following the leader—the mom—and doing what she did. It gave me great joy to witness their evening outing.

The next evening, my Daughter and I were in the kitchen and I glimpsed up the creek, a tan flash of something running. We ran to the sliding glass door and watched a doe run down the common land. A hundred paces behind came a second doe following the first. We have seen deer before here, but this is more of a rare occurrence. Witnessing these kinds of events in nature, which may be more plentiful as we enter summer, gives us the opportunity to experience both a lift in our self-esteem and a corrective to our pride.

I love being reminded that the ducks are not trying to be anything but ducks. They are not wishing they were swans; they are not attempting to behave like geese, frogs or cardinals. The doe is not trying to run like cheetah; it does not pine to be an antelope, a buffalo or squirrel. They don’t wonder if these other creatures are better than they are. They are simply and completely themselves and behave just like they were created to. This simple observation helps me when I go through times of feeling that I am not good enough, smart enough, talented enough – or whatever it is that causes me to question my inherent worth and value as a child of God. Through nature, we are reminded to be completely ourselves—not comparing ourselves to others, or wishing or thinking we should be different than we are. God made us each the way he desired and our task is to become more fully and completely ourselves as ones made in God’s image and shaped by God’s will.

Observing nature also gives us a corrective at the other end of the spectrum—with pridefulness—when we think we are better than everyone else, indispensable or we are puffed up with our own importance. The ducks and the deer are important, but they are not the be all and end all of creation. They are part of the “circle of life” as we all were reminded in Disney’s movie, The Lion King. Each creature is essential, but they are not everything. Every part is needed for a harmonious balance, but they cannot create this balance on their own. The same is true for us. When I become full of pride, I take a walk along the creek to be reminded that I am only a part –an important part, yes, but only a part of much bigger communities—in my family, my neighborhood, my work, my colleagues, my larger church community. We are essential, but none of us is everything—none of can do everything, be everything, control everything, balance everything. Just like each part of nature, we have a place and a part.

This humility is also important when watching how ducks, deer and other creatures follow the leader. Sometimes and in certain settings, we are the leader. Other situations call us to follow. As a parent, I am mindful that children follow us; they do and say what we do and say; and younger children say and do what older siblings do and say, as well. Sometimes I am a good role model; others times I flunk—I can tell when I have flunked by what comes out of my children’s mouths. I pray that more often than not, I can be like that mother duck and quack out the right, helpful and good thing to say to help them and other children learn.

Spiritual lessons abound when we pay attention to nature. This summer, may you be blessed with many experiences of God’s creation, and with the wonderful lessons that nature has to teach us.

Here's the post I started last week, but didn't finish until now, due to my son's concussion -

A week ago I attended a conference on the Sacred Art of Hospitality based on the book,Hospitality~the Sacred Art: Discovering the Hidden Spiritual Power of Invitation and Welcome by The Rev. Nanette Sawyer (purchase at: http://www.amazon.com/s/?ie=UTF8&keywords=hospitality+the+sacred+art&tag=googhydr-20&index=stripbooks&hvadid=3188467919&ref=pd_sl_6m2c854t6c_b). It really gave us the basis for all of our relationships as well as mission and ministry. Nanette pushes us to see hospitality not in terms of setting a pretty table or hosting dinner parties, although it could very well include these. Hospitality is the quality of one's inner spirit and how this creates an openness and welcome in all our relationships which can lead to the transformation of our self and others.

Transformative spiritual hospitality is rooted in three qualities: receptivity, reverence and generosity that reflect a basic pattern of movement: in-with-out. We can engage in each of these stages with methods of awareness, acceptance and action. A chart helped us:

Inner Spirit: Receptivity Reverence Generosity

Movement: In With Out

Method: Awareness Acceptance Action

(sorry I couldn't figure out how to do the spacing in a chart form--it kept changing once I posted it!)

Receptivity has to do with preparing our inner state to be able to invite others in to our lives, hearts and sometimes, our homes. We explored this spiritual approach in being not only receptive to God’s welcome of us, but also our willingness to be hospitable to ourselves. Like other spiritual disciplines, true hospitality begins with our relationship with God and our ability to care for and love ourselves, so that we might be open to others and able to care for them out of our own spiritual center. The method for this stage is awareness—awareness of the sacred in and around us, awareness of ourselves, awareness of our needs and a willingness for self-care.

Reverence is the state of being with others—honoring and welcoming them. Reverence involves acceptance of others as they are, but it also goes deeper than that. It moves us to see and honor the presence of God in each created being—humans as well as the creation. Being with others in a hospitable and reverent way, means giving up trying to control them, letting go of specific outcomes and not judging them. It also means letting go of the dualism of comparison—that we are better/worse than others or they are better/worse than us. Instead we identify with them, in our common humanity, in the presence of God that exists within each one of us. Rev. Sawyer challenges us to practice this with our families on a daily basis, with neighbors, with strangers and even with enemies who may wish us harm.

Finally, hospitality involves generosity—a flowing out in physical, emotional and spiritual care of others. This involves action of some kind—whether it is regularly inviting people into your home, caring for a sick friend, making intentional conversation, making eye contact and smiling to strangers, practicing non-retaliation in conflict, or making green choices to be hospitable to creation--a crucial part of hospitality is outward action motivated by compassion and openness to new experience. In class we were able to practice spiritual meditations that moved us toward this deeper hospitality.

A great blessing of this conference was that it embodied the topic by its structure! The conference was held on a cruise ship out of Miami that made 3 stops in the Bahamas. It created an environment where could engage in hospitality at all levels-- "re-creation" with God through rest and renewal which deepened our hospitality to God and ourselves; opportunities to learn new people, places and cultures (a friend and I went to a Botanical Garden in Freeport that included a history lesson and a prayer labyrinth in a healing garden) enabling us to grow in our reverence for others; and finally the opportunity to reach outward in generosity--strangers on the ship and with one another as we built a new community of support as ecumenical women clergy and Christian educators. This redefined for me, an understanding of hospitality as the core of our inner spiritual life, our relationships and our outward mission.

Concussion or Divine Intervention?

I was in the middle of writing a new post last week about the study leave Cruise I went on the week before - and then Son #1 got a bad concussion playing volleyball. Someone spiked it and it hit him square in the ear -- who knew how dangerous volleyball could be? A sprained ankle and now this. He had enough alarming symptoms that the nurse taking the after-hours calls said we needed to call the paramedics. He barely remembers going to the hospital in an ambulance, but he does remember his younger brother offering to get him a glass of water. He never got his glass of water because the paramedics arrived and said he could not have anything to eat or drink. About every 10 minutes for the next 24 hours Son #1 asked if Son #2 was bringing him a glass of water! We were all so relieved when Son #2 came home from school the next day and brought him a glass of water--several in fact. No glass of water ever tasted so good.

The brain is an amazing wonder--it does everything we need it to without giving it a second thought--but jolt it up against the skull and it all goes haywire. We were mildly freaking out since Son #1 was displaying symptoms that my in-laws did before they died --one from a brain tumor and one from dementia. The similarities were scary and a reminder that all of us are close at any moment, to losing our right mind for any number of reasons.

It also made plain what Martin Luther called "testing the spirits". Son #1 was convinced that God told him to change his name to "Steve". When asked what God's voice sounded like, he said, "Morgan Freeman." Good answer! But when he returned to his right mind (his ct scan was clear and it took rest and time), he couldn't figure out who Steve was and didn't remember this supposed divine intervention. Although we laugh at it now, it does remind me that we do need to test the spirits--when someone is being led by God in a certain decision or behavior, is there an affirmation coming from someone else as well? I am reminded how easy it is to not be in our right mind. How do we clear our mind to hear the Spirit leading and guiding us? For starters, I am sitting further away at future games involving any type of ball.

Transformational Hospitality

Here's the post I started last week, but didn't finish until now, due to my son's concussion -

A week ago I attended a conference on the Sacred Art of Hospitality based on the book, Hospitality~the Sacred Art: Discovering the Hidden Spiritual Power of Invitation and Welcome by The Rev. Nanette Sawyer (purchase at: http://www.amazon.com/s/?ie=UTF8&keywords=hospitality+the+sacred+art&tag=googhydr-20&index=stripbooks&hvadid=3188467919&ref=pd_sl_6m2c854t6c_b). It really gave us the basis for all of our relationships as well as mission and ministry. Nanette pushes us to see hospitality not in terms of setting a pretty table or hosting dinner parties, although it could very well include these. Hospitality is the quality of one's inner spirit and how this creates an openness and welcome in all our relationships which can lead to the transformation of ourself and others.

Transformative spiritual hospitality is rooted in three qualities: receptivity, reverence and generosity that reflect a basic pattern of movement: in-with-out. We can engage in each of these stages with methods of awareness, acceptance and action. A chart helped us:

Inner Spirit: Receptivity Reverence Generosity

Movement: In With Out

Method: Awareness Acceptance Action

Receptivity which has to do with preparing our inner state to be able to invite others in to our lives, hearts and sometimes, our homes. We explored this spiritual approach in being not only receptive to God’s welcome of us, but also our willingness to be hospitable to ourselves. Like other spiritual disciplines, true hospitality begins with our relationship with God and our ability to care for and love ourselves, so that we might be open to others and able to care for them out of our own spiritual center. The method for this stage is awareness—awareness of the sacred in and around us, awareness of ourselves, awareness of our needs and a willingness for self-care.

Reverence is the state of being with others—honoring and welcoming them. Reverence involves acceptance of others as they are, but it also goes deeper than that. It moves us to see and honor the presence of God in each created being—humans as well as the creation. Being with others in a hospitable and reverent way, means giving up trying to control them, letting go of specific outcomes and not judging them. It also means letting go of the dualism of comparison—that we are better/worse than others or they are better/worse than us. Instead we identify with them, in our common humanity, in the presence of God that exists within each one of us. Rev. Sawyer challenges us to practice this with our families on a daily basis, with neighbors, with strangers and even with enemies who may wish us harm.

Finally, hospitality involves generosity—a flowing out in physical, emotional and spiritual care of others. This involves action of some kind—whether it is regularly inviting people into your home, caring for a sick friend, making intentional conversation, making eye contact and smiling to strangers, practicing non-retaliation in conflict, or making green choices to be hospitable to creation--a crucial part of hospitality is outward action motivated by compassion and openness to new experience. In class we were able to practice spiritual meditations that moved us toward this deeper hospitality.

A great blessing of this conference was that it embodied the topic by its structure! The conference was held on a cruise ship out of Miami that made 3 stops in the Bahamas. It created an environment where could engage in hospitality at all levels-- "re-creation" with God through rest and renewal which deepened our hospitality to God and ourselves; opportunities to learn new people, places and cultures (a friend and I went to a Botanical Garden in Freeport that included a history lesson and a prayer labyrinth in a healing garden) enabling us to grow in our reverence for others; and finally the opportunity to reach outward in generosity--strangers on the ship and with one another as we built a new community of support as ecumenical women clergy and Christian educators. This redefined for me, an understanding of hospitality as the core of our inner spiritual life, our relationships and our outward mission.

Finding a Usable Future in our Past

Our congregation is part of a mission transformation process called "Partnership for Missional Church" (PMC) run by Church Innovations and sponsored by our local judicatory (called a Synod in the ELCA). The purpose is to engage in a process that will help our congregation become more missional in our local community based on the gifts, strengths and energies of our specific congregation. There's not a set program to implement because the missional focus is different for every congregation based on their particular community (demographic analysis) and the charisms of their congregation. So it's a process of discovery--discovering the needs and character of our community and how they can be met in a specific way by the gifts, abilities and resources of our congregation.

One step in the process is to do a congregational Timeline--not just a history of the congregation, but the highs and lows people experienced as part of the congregation. One of the missional questions to reflect on is "Can you find a usable future in your past?" It's an interesting question because it implies that to become mission-focused in a new way in the present does not mean making a break with the history and traditions of the congregation--those may be the very source of an idea on how to move forward in the present and the future.

One example Church Innovations gave us was of a congregation that was started as a Sunday School. Several decades ago, the founding pastor spent an expensive 30 cents to take the trolley from one end of town to the other to develop their congregation, but could only begin a worship service or a Sunday School and the people voted for a Sunday School. In it's missional process, the congregation reflected on the importance of ministry with children and their families that has been present since the founding of the congregation; this focus shaped their outreach in the present to families in the community. People in the community were so busy with children's activities, that the congregation developed a family worship service, somewhat structured like a Sunday school lesson, which enabled families to worship and learn together. They found a usable future from their past.

I have been reflecting on this with regard to the congregation I serve. After months of reflection, it finally occurred to me that perhaps our future is in our first name: First English Lutheran Church--St. Mark's was the first English-speaking Lutheran Church in the St. Louis area. While other Lutheran congregations were still offering services is Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, German and so on, St. Mark's identified itself as a congregation that speaks the language of the culture. This language is still English of course, but more and more this language is being spoken through the use of technology. How might we use more advanced technology to bring the Gospel of Jesus Christ to our community? As a congregation, we are at the very beginning stages of using more advanced technology. We don't use screens or power point in worship, but we are expanding our presence on our website, Facebook and using more advanced technology to share information with the Board. We are hoping to reach out in mission to the hospital down the street from us. How this all works together with the charisms of music, food and fellowship, I am not sure; but I am glad to be here and see what the Spirit does next!

To Tease or Not To Tease

The other day, my daughter came home from school describing how one of the girls in her class said, "I hate you" to her a number of times that day. I listened and figured it was pre-adolescent girl banter. The next day, she came home and said the same thing. I decided to pursue it. She explained to me that this girl said it when she was walking by her desk. I said, "Well if I called this girl's mother and asked her to talk with her daughter--what would she say was happening before she said these mean things to you?"

My daughter was mortified--"Don't do that!" she exclaimed, alarmed that I might actually do it and cause her mortal embarrassment. Fessing up to me became the lesser of two evils. "Well..." Daughter started, "I might have said that she and the boy she was sitting next to made a cute couple." "So you were teasing her?" I clarified. "What do you think would happen if you didn't say these things to her--would she still say that she hates you?" Daughter pondered this possibility and thought that she would try it the next day.

Sure enough, Daughter came home the next day and said, "I didn't say or do anything today that caused someone to say that they hate me." Breakthrough.

Of course we don't make or cause other people to be mean--they make their own choices. But learning that our behavior and words create an environment for positive or negative behavior to be directed toward us, is a lesson I hope she continues to absorb. We can act like victims and never take the time to look at our part in the situation. When Daughter changed her behavior, the other girl changed her behavior in response. It was the Serenity Prayer in action--being aware of who and what we can change (ourselves) and accepting what we cannot change (another person) and acting on our power. It was a good lesson for me, too.

Resolve

The other day I was walking into the living room, tea in hand, to sit in my prayer chair (an Amish bentwood rocker by the window). It was after breakfast and the boys were already on the bus (see The Aroma of Axe post, below). Our dog, Marcie, was lying near the window with her head under the rocker. As a I stepped into the room, she threw up her entire breakfast and medication underneath where I was headed for my morning prayers. Lovely.

I cleaned it up and soaked the spot with Resolve pet stain cleaner. I sat down to do my devotions while the Resolve beneath me worked its magic. The irony was not lost on me. While the cleaner was lifting the stains on the carpet, I was praying for my own stains to be removed. Some days devotions are murky and the messages unclear, but this day, it was a little too plain. When I resolve to do to my morning prayers--no matter what--my issues, concerns, anxieties, and sins are resolved more peacefully and lifted more easily. I've often said that the Spirit needs to hit me in the head with a 2 by 4 to get a message across, but in the future, I will keep my eyes open for messages with a little more subtlety.

Big Love

Love is hard to accept sometimes. It's hard for me to completely accept and receive it when I feel and look so very flawed. I was imperfect before, to be sure, but forging a confident sense of self, of beauty, of love-ability is even more challenging post-double mastectomy. I don't bring as much to the party of intimacy, so I sometimes wonder why my husband wants to stick around. "I love you--the whole person, not just the package," he says to me.

I am amazed at this kind of love. In some ways it easier to isolate myself and reject love--I don't have to then face my insecurities and survivor-demons. I don't have to risk vulnerability, or feeling out of control, or admitting my fear. But then not much love can be offered or received by either one of us if that's where I remain. Such love invites me to begin to love myself anew in a body that knows how to survive cancer. Wow, why would I want to trade it in for a newer or younger model? It was a gift when I received it; and it still is a gift.

Genesis promises that we are made in the image and likeness and God. I now see this not in terms of the body only, as I once did, but simply in the ability to give and receive divine love in all our human relationships. That's an image I still carry, scars and all. It's an image I can see in every person. That's big love.

Grump Dump 2

Over the weekend I wrote a post about grumpy church members that I did not publish. I don't care for it when others do a grump dump on me--whether they are just having a bad day; whether they hope I can meet their needs even when they are not communicated; or whether they assume I do not care about them because I inadvertently overlooked something they believed I should have paid attention to.

We just got back from a week in Texas for Spring Break with my whole family. It was a great gathering with pictures, family dinners, fun, 6 Flags, museums and a 75th birthday party for my parents. But it was also a formula for a grump dump in several directions. I am not sure why I am worried about who is dumping on me when I can also be a master dumper. Even when I make a concerted effort not to, I crab at my sisters, my husband, my kids. We all have an underlying anxiety about something--receiving enough love, attention, care, power, hope, recognition, money--something. When we are lacking, we take out it out on someone else--but it's not really about them at all. It's about our own lack of inner peace and acceptance.

Next time I start counting up who is doing a grump dump on me, I will take a look at the load I am carrying. Perhaps I can pray for serenity before I become the next dump truck.

Jesus Made It

We served Communion continuously this past Sunday rather than kneeling at the Communion rail. I squatted down to give a blessing to a three-year old girl. When I was done, she dug a cross necklace out of her dress collar to show me. It was white with pink roses on it. "Jesus made it!" she said proudly. I told her how beautiful it was and I finished giving Communion to her dad, blessing her baby sister, and then the rest of the congregation. But I wanted to linger longer in that moment.

To her three- year old mind, Jesus physically crafted her cross (like a good carpenter and craftsman would), but she said so much more, especially at Communion. Jesus did make the cross--he made the sacrifice, he gave his obedience, he offered his life. Jesus made the empty tomb, the cup of salvation, the bread of new life, the victory over death possible. Jesus made it!

I seek to grow spiritually every day--today I am hoping for age 3 and for the eyes that see that Jesus made it--Jesus made it all.

Reclaiming Mardi Gras Spirituality

The last Sunday before Lent we celebrated Mardi Gras in worship. When I pitched this idea to the Worship Committee, they looked at me strangely--perhaps they thought I had suggested we all parade half naked and drunk down the church aisle. While this might improve attendance, I reminded them that Mardi Gras is a church festival and something we can celebrate appropriately and with joy in the sanctuary. I could tell by their faces that they wondered how I would pull this off. Our youth traveled to New Orleans for our National Youth Gathering last summer, so this seemed to be the year to try.

The children passed out beads; we recalled the history of the Mardi Gras festival dating back as far as 1000 C.E. as a way to prepare for the fasting of Lent; we learned that the King cake came from the Epiphany celebration of the three Kings who came and brought gifts to Jesus; we enjoyed a power-point of our youth in New Orleans; we paraded around as we sang, "Oh When the Saints..." while the drums kept the beat and the trombones helped us all, the "frozen chosen," move just a little bit. Some in the culture may have co-opted our festival into a half- naked drunken parade in downtown St. Louis, but that is no reason for us to abandon our rich history.

It seems we have come full circle. The early church co-opted cultural events by setting the times of Christian festivals around pagan celebrations: the celebration of the birth of Christ at the time of the festival of the winter solstice is a great example. Now the culture today seems to be taking the best of who we are as religious bodies and co-opting it for consumer purposes. I recently saw an ad for Cadillac that concluded with this encouragement to purchase: ignite your soul. Walmart beckons us to buy with these words: Live better. It seems to me that Nike must have gleaned their slogan from Luke 10: 1-4. Jesus sent out the 70 with these words: Go on your way. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals which seem to be the biblical Just do it. I was eating a quick bite with Son#2 at a popular coffee and sandwich chain recently and saw a long narrow banner with these words listed at the top: refresh, renew, re-energize. At the bottom of the banner was a gender-neutral person with their arms and face lifted upward, eyes closed with white swirls above their head. In this setting, the swirls could have been steam from coffee. I asked my son if I could hang the banner in church for a Lenten theme and the swirls could be the Holy Spirit. "Sure," he replied. He got it immediately. There appeared to be no difference between what they are offering and what we are offering- except of course, Jesus Christ.

These ads all reaffirm the message that studies confirm—people are “spiritual, but not religious” and every product they consume whether it is a cup of coffee or a luxury car, can help them feel like they are spiritual. Our Mardi Gras celebration shows me that people hunger to reclaim the deep meaning behind the spiritual words. Isaiah asks, Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? (55.2) We offer the redeeming Christ who is bread and satisfies for eternal life.

The Aroma of Axe

It was early in the morning-still dark out. I was enjoying a quiet moment in my prayer chair --a bentwood Amish rocker--offering my morning devotions in the living room. I'm ashamed to admit I don't manage it every day, but the days I do are much more peaceful and purposeful. The earlier I start, the more likely I will succeed, so there I was making a valiant effort at centering--reading, praying, meditating. I was at 2 Corinthians 4:7 But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.

Son#1 emerged from the hall bathroom in a cloud of steam, indicating that all the hot water was now gone. He grumbled his good morning and went downstairs to get ready for jazz band, which practices at 6:30, an hour before school begins. I kept reading...We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair..

We have plans to build his bedroom downstairs--we've sketched out the plan, we've talked with the builder, we're next on his list of construction projects. But there's no bedroom, yet. Just a wide open lower level where noises and smells can waft up the split level entryway into my sacred space. ...persecuted but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed... Suddenly I was afflicted, perplexed, struck down.... in an overwhelming smell of Axe deodorant and body spray. How much can you use at one time? My head hurt, my eyes watered, my devotions ended.

I escaped to my bedroom and realized I had not gotten up early enough--or perhaps I was just in the wrong part of 2 Corinthians. Maybe I should have been reading 2 Corinthians 2:14-15: But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing him. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved..

Maybe Son#1 was doing his devotions, too--praying, indeed, spraying. And maybe for him, the aroma of Axe isn't so far from the aroma of Christ; for him, a blessed and fragrant way to greet the dawn and start the day. One can hope. But, I am still getting up earlier or doing devotions after breakfast.

How I Met George Clooney-- Since you asked!

If you saw the recently Oscar-nominated movie, Up in the Air, you might have heard that it was filmed right here in St. Louis! A wedding reception scene was shot in a tudor-style motel called the Cheshire Inn, which is right across the street from the church I serve. During their 3 days of filming at this site, they needed a place to serve two meals a day to the 150 members of the crew. St. Mark's Lutheran Church gladly opened it's doors for the crew to eat in the fellowship hall.

It was quite an experience. The catering company was from Los Angeles and specifically catered to movie crews. There was a kitchen in the back of the semi truck and a refrigerator in the back of another truck. They transformed our church basement into a high class buffet and invited us to dine when the crew was done! They were the sweetest people and the food was amazing. We were ready to follow them around St. Louis.

The first day the crew arrived, George Clooney came to lunch and got in line for lunch like everyone else. I donned my suit and clerical collar that day, and was welcoming people to our building and saying how happy we were to have them there. As soon as Mr. Clooney was off his cell phone, I walked right up, introduced myself, shook his hand and chatted with him for a minute. He was very kind. Then I asked if he would take a picture with me and after a slight hesitation, he said, "sure." He gave the camera to his friend and posed for the picture. The church calendar on the wall shows in the background. I thanked him and said, "Oh, I'm getting you right before you've eaten," as he reached for his tray and silverware. He said, "Well, it's better than after I've eaten and I've got food in my teeth." He was funny, too! I left him alone then, so he didn't think I was a weird stalker person.

That was the only day out of the three that he ate there--the caterer said he often takes his limo other places. The church members thought I scared him away and ruined their chances of getting their picture with him. Maybe so. But after having cancer, I have learned to seize the moment! I have also learned that little things mean a lot. I am not one to go gaga over stars--this one or any others, but he was stunningly good looking and it was really fun to meet him in person. It meant nothing to Mr. Clooney--a lunchtime inconvenience. But it was a bright spot after a really difficult time for me-- a little thing that lifted my spirits and gave me a moment of happiness after a year of hardship.

We don't know when we can do a little thing that means a lot for someone else. My chance came the last day the crew was there and I talked with one of them at length. I found out his wife was in treatment for cancer and we were able to spend time talking about it over his dinner break before he went back to work. I was able to give him my card, offered to have her call me or have him call if he needed more support while working away from home. Even if they never called, he knew he wasn't alone in St. Louis--not everything was up in air.

iPantyliner

After school yesterday, Son #2 marched into my bedroom and said, "Mom, what's this?" Of course he had a pantyliner in his hand. Thank God it was unused. (see previous post, iTampon, to understand my rush of relief).

"It's a pantyliner."

"That's what I thought," he said, holding it up to his crotch in various positions, trying to imagine how one might use this contraption of feminine mystery. "How do you use it?" I could hear three boys giggling from his room across the hall.

I pulled a pair of underwear out of my drawer and demonstrated the genius of adhesive protection. "You wear it on light days, either at the very beginning or the very end of your period. Then you pull it off, roll it up in some toilet paper like this, and throw it away." (I remembered the parenting instruction to only give the information they ask for, so I did not mention other times of the month when we might want that "clean, fresh feeling." I can be such a talker that I am pleased every time I manage restraint).

"Gross."

"Where did you get it? You didn't pick up garbage off the side of the road again did you?"

"No, I found it in my room, in a bag. What are these doing in my room?" A good question. He brought me the bag and sure enough, here was a sandwich bag full of individually wrapped pads and several pantyliners that he found on his bookshelf.

Then we realized from where they came. We had a house guest who stayed in his room a couple of months ago and she must have forgotten them. Unfortunately she was related to one of the three boys sitting on his bed, snickering at this unusual find. We thought a little harder. My sisters and mom had also visited in the fall for a girl's weekend, and they could have left them behind, which we decided was a more likely explanation in order to spare a friend embarrassment.

Son #2 walked into his room and like an expert in all things gynecological, explained how the pantyliner worked and that they were used for light days. I popped my head in and enlightened them about our "girl's weekend" and how someone must have left them behind. For now, all things are right in the pubescent boys world.

Revelation at the Food Court

Yesterday I took my Daughter shopping for khaki pants, a required part of the Character Choir outfit at the elementary school she attends. She started to get a bad headache and needed something to eat, so we went to the food court at the mall. It was about 4:00. If the world, or even our household were run according to her clock, this would be dinner time everyday. She's not very hungry in the morning, but when she comes home from school, she's ready to pack it away. Give her a nice big serving of ice cream at 6 or 7 pm and that would be a perfect day! She was in the mood for orange chicken--the kind you can get at any variety of Asian counters at the mall, with fried rice and a St. Louis specialty called Crab Rangoon. She was in heaven--eating just what she had imagined the day before when we planned our shopping trip.

I had a good-sized lunch and wasn't really hungry yet. But Daughter and I were leaving for church at 5:30 for Acolyte training and would miss dinner at home. I seemed unable to pass up a plate of food even though my body didn't seem to need it at the moment. Next thing I knew, I was sitting across from her with my own version of grilled Asian chicken, steamed rice and vegetables.

I asked my Daughter how she was doing --it had been a hard run with grandpa dying just a few months earlier after a long battle with brain cancer; I had re-constructive surgery from breast cancer just before he died; we still missed Grandma who died two years ago from dementia--was there anything she wanted to talk about? How is she feeling? It turns out she was worried about her other grandmother--my mother--Nana, who has liver disease. How long will she live? Why is she sick? She was waiting for the proverbial other (or in our case, about the 7th) shoe to drop. So many bad things had happened, one right after the other; one on top of the other. Who can relax?

I tried to explain Nana's disease as best I could and tried to encourage her that she is doing quite well. Morfar ("grandpa" in Swedish) was healthy and doing well watching out for her. I looked down at this plate of food I didn't need, didn't want and that didn't taste all that good. There was a pause in the conversation. I wondered, why was I eating it when I wasn't hungry?

The answer came to me like the fried rice sign flashing above the food court counter: I am racked with anxiety. I am trying to push the anxiety down and away with food. It doesn't seem to be working. In fact it makes it worse because an unhealthy diet and weight gain causes more anxiety about the recurrence of cancer. It's a vicious cycle.

Perhaps I just need to ask myself the same questions I am asking Leah: Is there anything I'd like to talk about? How am I feeling? I know one anxiety is the burden I feel at saddling my Daughter with the increased risk of breast cancer, and the compulsion I therefore feel to keep her physically active and eating fresh fruits and vegetables. Another anxiety is wondering if I am leading a life of significant impact and meaning and working on goals I have set. It's a version of survivor guilt--am I living a life that is worth having survived cancer? As I let these and other anxieties bubble up into the light of day, I can look at them and find ways to address them so they lose their destructive power.

I wonder how often it is true that the questions we are asking others are the very ones we need to be asking ourselves.

Matching Bras

My Daughter and I bought matching bra's recently. We finally gave away our matching dresses from when she was little. She wore her dresses from when they hung at her ankles until they barely covered her little behind; then I had to admit, she was getting too big for our 3-set parade of matching dresses. I could not just put them in bag on the front porch to go to the next charity that came by to pick up our donations. I could not bring them to Goodwill. I wasn't able to drop them in a clothing donation box at her school. It seemed silly to save them--I wouldn't wear my dresses without her counterpart--what would I be saving them for? I don't make quilts or pillows or even patch jeans for that matter. No, the fabric would rot before the dress material would be put to good use.

I finally thought of a church member who was close enough to my size with a little girl with room to grow. We put the matching dress sets together in a bag, brought them to church and set them in the pew where they normally sit, a sacred offering of love and memories, the incense of mother and child. We were so happy when our offering was accepted and they came to church one Sunday clad in the red dress set, happily connected, the daughter not yet embarrassed by her mom.

My daughter and I have not yet worn our matching bras. I don't know that they will offer that same sense of bonding and excitement at being alike that matching dresses did when my Daughter was 4 and 5 and 6. She was too embarrassed to join me in the store to buy new underwear, much less a real bra. I don't even have real breasts, having just had re-constructive surgery 3 months ago after having a double mastectomy 2 years ago. Developing breasts is not necessarily good news for my Daughter and is accompanied by even more conflicted feelings for her than other girls. So the blue satin waits in our drawers--a sacred offering of hope that eventually we can wear them with a smile, and trust that whatever lies beneath is beautiful because it is matched with love.

iTampon- thought of this before I saw the chatter!

Last night as the kids were finishing dinner and I was cleaning up the dishes at the sink, Son #2 disappeared from the kitchen and reappeared with something in his open hand. He held it out to me and said, "Mom, what's this?"

A purple piece of plastic shaped like a lipstick tube rested in his hand like a wounded bird.

"It's a used tampon applicator. Please put it in the garbage and go wash your hands!"

He stood there looking at it, and then me, and back to the applicator again. "Will you please do as I say and go throw it out and wash your hands. Where did you get it, anyway?"

"I picked it up off the ground on the way home from school."

My Son #1 shouted out, "It's been in a girls' VAGINA!

My Daughter, not yet menstruating, but familiar with the topic shouts, "ewwww, gross!!"

I realized I was treading on thin ice as far as respect for the female body goes, so I said, "It's not that women's bodies are full of germs, but it's been on the ground, so please, do as I say and throw it out and wash your hands."

Such is the curiosity of a Middle School boy. Son #2, still holding his prized possession that aroused everyone's curiosity and emotion said, flatly, "I thought that's what it was."

I offered, "If you were so interested to see what it looked like, you could have just asked me, and I would have gotten a tampon and showed it to you. You don't have to pick up garbage on the way home from school to learn about these things."

He didn't respond, but finally threw away his treasure-hunt prize. Today, via the internet, Apple is helping him learn about the advantages of such feminine hygiene with iPad--slim, easy to carry, absorbent, user-friendly, convenient and apparently, easy to trash.