Expect Good Things

Another story from my trip with the grandkids

The highlight of the trip was saved until the last day. I found a place called Trammel Park outside Cincinnati, where you could dig fossils and keep them. Anyone who knows a child between the ages of 5 and 8 has bought them a “Future Paleontologist” t-shirt. This park would be the crowning moment of our adventure.

In fact, my grandson told me with sincerity this had been his dream for years, digging fossils. I knew they would be excited. I also knew they would probably be bored. As the discussion about what this experience might be like progressed, it became clear they expected dinosaur bones, preferably large and preferably as part of a fully formed skeleton buried just under the surface of the dirt. In other words, that this would be easy.

Expectations Meet Reality

We arrived, pail of tools and gloves and brushes in hand. We climbed to a place that didn’t look like it had been recently worked. They started randomly clawing at the hard earth and were rather shocked when nothing happened. And then irritated. And then discouraged.

In the meantime, I wandered around picking through the thousands of rocks just laying there to be examined. I found bird skeletons imprinted in rock, sea creatures that had been captured somehow in the rock, all kinds of interesting things. I’d pick it up and show it to them. After affirming me, they would keep digging. You have great eyes Grandma, they would say.

We lasted about an hour. They divided up the few things they found and my ample collection and we headed home. They were satisfied and hot and hungry, so it was a good day.

There are many lessons and metaphors to take from this story. Here is mine: it isn’t that hard to find good things. You just have to look and be open to finding them. There might be some really great things that you don’t find but there is plenty of good out there. Sometimes you have to accept the smaller victories, appreciate the little things. You will essentially find what you expect to find. So expect good things.

Respecting Dignity and Integrity

Last week I was with my grandkids for a few days, and we inevitably found ourselves in a gift shop. There was a spending cap so anxiety was high. They were trying to find the item that cost the most while still having some value to them. They are savvy shoppers.

At one point my 7-year old granddaughter, who loves to shop, came to me in tears. I don’t know what to do Grandma, she said. I want this dinosaur stuffed animal, but girls aren’t supposed to like dinosaurs. Should I get a necklace instead? Or should I be true to myself?

In that moment, I was immensely grateful to Disney for presenting a multitude of female characters who make the choice to be true to themselves. I was also feeling compassion that such a little kid had to make these emotionally exhausting choices, and will for the rest of her life. And finally I was furious at a culture that defines who and what a female is to be, rather than letting her be who she really is. So much packed into that one moment.

I told her that whatever she chose was fine with me, but that I hoped she was always brave enough to be true to herself. That I would always support her in that. She went back and forth several times. This decision was hard for her, she was weighing it carefully. Both items were nice, but what they represented was the issue.

In the end, she chose to be true to herself. And she specifically thanked me for supporting that. And what really broke my heart was at the end of the day, when we were saying the best thing about the day, she said being true to herself was the best thing she did.

It matters. Supporting girls in becoming themselves matters. Empowering women to be who they want to be matters. And frankly empowering boys is also critical. It should not be so hard to live as we are made, to use the gifts we have been given. Society should recognize that whole, fulfilled people make better neighbors.

Let’s pray for all children to have the support and encouragement that they need to become healthy and productive adults on their terms. That we all learn to respect the dignity and integrity of every person. And that we love our neighbors as they are, not as we think they should be.

God Provides

This is why kids need church and the church needs kids:

In July we held our yearly collection for the Taft Elementary Mobile Pantry. During the school year, we purchase good food-vegetables, fruit, meat, selections to make a meal- and deliver them already bagged to families at the school in the most need. This a great system, and really helps people who can’t drive to the school to access healthy food. We work with United Way and First Presbyterian Church, our fantastic community partners.

People are wonderful, and by the end of the month we had what we needed. I never worry about having enough money to feed kids. God always provides that. We care about our neighbors.

But one donation really stood out. One of our young kids, probably about 8 by now, came to the office a few weeks ago. He handed a wad of money to our parish administrator. He told her that he had a lemonade stand and wanted a portion of the proceeds to go to Taft.

What a sweet kid right??

We inspire one another. We provide each other opportunities to be generous. If we pay attention, we see love in action over and over again.

Thank you to everyone who donated. You have made people’s lives better. And a special thank you to that lovely young man who is developing a heart to serve his neighbors by paying attention to his wonderful family and his generous church.

Watch for happy endings!! God provides good things every day.

Blockbuster Weekend

I saw Oppenheimer. The movie was really good, really hard, really long. I thought how ironic it was that several blogs ago I wrote about the bombing in relation to my Uncle, and now I watched its history unfolding.

In the dinner that followed the movie, my companions and I talked about evil, and discernment, and what was justice and what was not. We disagreed about when Oppenheimer realized the true repercussions of what he was doing and how he displayed his discomfort. I thought about how hard it is to make moral and ethical choices in our world, then and now.

Hard Decisions

Most hard decisions are not dualistic, with two clear choices and one that a good person would obviously make. When I said I was a pacificist, how many times has someone said, what would you do if it was your family being hurt? I have always responded that I hoped I would make the right choice in the moment, whatever that seemed to be. You can have standards and grasp that they aren’t always practical. They are called hard decisions for a reason.

But this movie is not about the moment. It is about war, and the horrors of war. It is about genocide and torture and protecting people from the worst of us. This movie is not about a split decision testing your scruples. It is about what you are willing to sacrifice for the good of the whole. And what that sacrifice might ask of each of us.

At What Cost?

Dinner conversation turned to Dietrich Bonhoffer. He was a Lutheran pastor and theologian in the middle of Nazi Germany. He wrote about the cost of discipleship. I have always struggled with his decision to try to assassinate Hitler. He failed of course, and he was killed because of it. I have always thought that the cost of discipleship for him was a willingness to lose his own life, to die for his friends.

But now I am wondering if the cost was his principles. Are there situations of evil potent enough that we have to give up what we hold to be true and just in order to pursue a bigger justice? Just war theory would tell us yes. Maybe I have never had a deep enough compassion to sort that out. I’m not sure what is right.

I come out of the film wondering about my own conviction and what it would take to offer it as a sacrifice. I hope never to be tested like that. But if I am, I pray to be courageous and deeply prayerful in my offering. I pray that God’s will be done.

We Need Each Other

Last week I went to Cleveland to celebrate my granddaughter’s 7th birthday. We were going to start the day by taking a ride on the Cuyahoga Scenic Railway with her brother. The tickets said not to be late, so I was planning to leave in plenty of time. I had a lot to bring with me, so I loaded the car in two trips, readied the backseat for the kids, took out the garbage, and a few other things.

When I was ready to go, I realized my keys were not in my pocket. I looked around, to no avail. I then remembered I had locked the door leading into the house. And to keep this short, other options for getting into the house didn’t work. My neighbor wasn’t home to help me break in. The clock was ticking. So, in desperation, I called the police to help me.

I retraced my steps while I waited for my rescuers, and found the keys almost immediately. I called the police back and said thanks anyway, and I left for Cleveland. I told the kids this story when we were on our way to the railroad and we all laughed.

Later at supper with their parents and aunts and uncles, my grandson asked me if I was going to tell my kids the story of my keys. My granddaughter immediately said, I wouldn’t, too embarrassing. Thanks a lot.

As with most life events, I try to reflect on what I can learn from the moment. My first thought when it happened was that I should have trusted myself. I got anxious because of timed tickets, but I don’t usually misplace my keys. Next time I might breathe more and panic less. But I also need to be open to asking for help. It is not an embarrassment to ask for assistance when I need it, as long as I am giving at least as much as I receive. We need each other.

So maybe there are two lessons for me to ponder-trusting ourselves and trusting our community. Life is hard, often anxiety provoking. Being kind to ourselves is just as important as being kind to others. And heaven knows there are plenty of opportunities to practice! It’s also good to know there are people who will help, and that I can be one of them. We really do need each other.

With Gratitude and Pride

My Mom had one brother, Wayne. He was an architect who lived in Albuquerque. I remember him from my early childhood, coming to visit with his first wife Palmyra, who was the coolest woman I have ever met. He was funky, iconoclastic, totally hip. His sideburns would drive my grandma crazy. But everyone loved him.

He and I wrote letters until he died several years ago. We talked about our lives, our hopes, our family. He never had children and I was the oldest niece, so there was a special bond between us, and I know at least some of my progressive worldview was influenced by my admiration for him.

Wayne was recognized by his community for his generosity and good will. He did architectural work for the indigenous communities in New Mexico, and would send pictures of community centers and tribal buildings that he designed. He had a strong commitment to justice and fairness and equity, long before that was recognized as necessary.

So it is interesting to me that the one fight we had was about dropping the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I knew Wayne was a veteran of the Korean War, but his politics as he expressed them to me seemed to be nonviolent. However, in a letter I wrote when I was in my 20s, where I criticized the use of nuclear weapons, his response was, so to speak, ballistic. I wasn’t prepared for his criticism of me that came with the letter, vehemently shredding my position.

Things cooled between us for a while. Mutual disappointment that we were too far away to easily repair. He married a second wife that I never really liked, and that also put a damper on things. When he died I represented my side of the family at his funeral, and I was sad for many things.  I was surprised to get a call recently from his wife’s sister, informing me she had died and asking if I wanted Wayne’s remaining possessions. In a box she sent I found pictures, some jewelry, and his service flag from the funeral. I knew immediately that I would keep the flag. I sent the rest to my sister. I know what that flag meant to Wayne. He was proud of his service and so am I. We don’t have to agree to share deep appreciation. I will hold up the evidence of his service to our country with gratitude and pride, as he would want me to do.

Detail of a stained glass window in St. John's Episcopal Church, Youngstown, Ohio depicting John holding a quill and scripture showing the words "God is love" (John 4:8).

God Is Always, Always Love

I was told yesterday that I am going to hell. My first thought was …maybe but not for the reason you are thinking. I was at the Pride Festival in Wellesville. In the blistering heat, protesters were gathered across the street to condemn so many things. Among them, that I as a clergy person was leading the queer folk I was standing with and for astray. I am quite sure God is OK with me being there. Being an ally seems to be good and holy work.

One issue might be that the conservative Christian protesters and I have a different vision of hell. I believe in hell, but not as a place of eternal damnation. I believe that hell is a refusal to accept God’s love for us, and for all people. We choose our own hell when we put the world and the sparkly things of the world ahead of God. It never turns out well.

The Good News which I preach is that we can turn that around at any time. God is always inviting us, always calling to us. God is always loving us and delighting in us. God is always, always love. I may have varying abilities to accept that love and difficulty living it, but as long as I believe in it and open my heart to it, I am engaged in God’s heavenly kingdom eternally.

I think in our haste to be right, even in our haste to please God, we forget a few things. We forget that we are each uniquely and lovingly crafted by God in God’s own image. God made us as we are, with all of our gifts and talents and goodness. And God pronounces that creation (us) as very good. We forget that it is God’s business to judge, and we need that in order to be constantly working to be our best selves.  But God judges, not us. We forget that fear and the evil that perpetuates it is always lurking and ready to distract us from God’s love.

So I stood across from the protesters who were shouting harsh judgements about people being who they were created to be. I tried to pray for them, to believe the good that resides in them, and to acknowledge that they also are beloved. But I believe their message is flawed, and that they are not projecting and embodying God’s love as God offers it to us. I accept their judgement of me, but I am not distracted or deterred by it. I stand for God’s acceptance and compassion and love of all people. And I accept the consequences that come with trying to live that in the world. 

Community, Outreach, & Love

I love confirmation class!! You gather a group of people who unapologetically want to be Episcopalians, which warms my heart. And then you get to hear about why church, this church and Jesus matters to them. I keep asking the question why are you doing this just to hear the answers. These are the top 3.

1. Community. People want to be a part of something bigger than themselves. They want to be attached to a group that has similar values (Jesus). They want to be in a place where people are positive, where they can make friends. They experience at St. John’s a community with a lot of really nice, really engaged, really willing people. Not people with all the answers, but people who care about the questions. Who we choose to grow in our faith with is important.

2. Outreach. People understand that God and church is intensely personal, but not just about them. Over and over people lift up the important work we do at St. John’s to be good neighbors, and what it means to them to participate in it. We know that our faith is meant to be shared, we know that God’s generosity to us is meant to be shared. Seeing people care about the world and working to make it better is very inspiring.

3. Love. And here is the most heartening thing for me. Over and over I hear people say they want to be in a place that teaches and offers the love of God. No judgement. Minimal guilt. But a focus on the goodness of people, in God’s delight in us, and in how we take that love out the doors after the services Sunday and give it away. I am deeply moved by people who celebrate God’s love for us. It gives me hope.

The Bishop is coming to confirm and receive these amazing people June 18 at our 10:30 service. I hope you will join us and experience the joy of Christian community!

Turning Prayer into Action

Last Saturday, I attended the Stop the Violence Rally at the Boulevard Restaurant, site of the recent murder of a child. I had been asked to offer one of the prayers, and was proud to be included with the big names of justice in our community. There were powerful prayers, uplifting music, and good attendance for a holiday weekend.

I believe that prayer makes a difference, and I am sure that God heard our cries. The grief, the frustration, the seeming inevitability of violence, it all weighed heavy. And as the summer approaches, and the days literally heat up, the anxiety about more random violence was palpable.

They highlighted some serious efforts to do positive things. There are many summer activities for kids, so they are busy and engaged in a community of accountability. There is prevention work among teens, especially those who have been in trouble in the past. All of this is good and should be supported financially.

What can the average person do though? How can we make a difference? I think the most accessible strategy is to know your neighbors. Check in on them. Make sure they are OK. Let them know someone cares, and they have encouragement and support. It doesn’t matter if they have children at home or not, we still need to take care of each other. To pay attention in a life-giving way.

Do you know your neighbors? I admit I am not close to most of mine. But I bring in their garbage can if it sits out for more than a day. I thank them when they do something kind for me. Baby steps.

There will be more rallying against violence throughout the summer. I encourage you to show that a safe and peaceful city matters to you by attending at least one. We need to show up. We need to show that we care by our actions and participation. Prayer is the heart of all we do, and it should always lead us to action.

Everyone Matters.

This week was Photo Directory Week at St. John’s. Several of our members and staff have been working for months to put together a new and updated reference for our parish members. The last directory was assembled 9 years ago, and I am not the only one who has changed since then. Looking back at the pictures from 2014, all the loved ones no longer with us, the children grown older, people who have moved away, it made us all grateful to those who work so hard to remind us of our memories.

I spent a little time greeting people. It was lovely to see them dressed in their finest, looking wonderful. There were families with kids, couples, a few pets included. There were single people and young people. The true diversity of our community was shining through. It was beautiful.

This is the Kingdom of God. When a diverse group of seekers and sinners gather every week to pray and learn and confess and renew. Every gender, color, age, political affiliation, level of ability- all crafted together into the Body of Christ. Willing to care about and love one another and Jesus, and bring that love into the world.

We must be careful to remember that everyone is created in God’s image, that everyone is beloved of God, that everyone matters. We need to include everyone! What joy it brings when we celebrate the bond we have in our love for Jesus as a committed community of faithful people.