The Waiting Room - Some Thoughts on Cell Phones

The Waiting Room – Some thoughts on cell phones

I sat in the waiting room this afternoon. I switched on my cell phone. I checked my sites and read some CNN. I’m a political junkie.

After being summoned to check-in at the main desk, I was moved to the next waiting room. I looked at my phone.

When I finally looked up, a mom and her son were sitting across from me. I wondered why she was there. She was the youngest person in the large waiting room. Except for her son. Everyone else was very old, like me (maybe even older).

The mom was on her phone. She did what I do on my phone. She swiped and liked and scrolled on down.  

Her son, who looked to be about six-years-old, gently bumped his head against her shoulder. Then he pulled his knit cap over his eyes. Then he sat still. I watched as he held his hands. He was wringing his hands. His slender fingers rolled and coiled around each other. His eyes were covered by his cap as he wrung his hands.

His mother stared at her phone.

I didn’t have a cell phone when I was a young mom. Who knows? Maybe if I would have had one, I would have stared at it in the waiting room, at the grocery store, at the bank, in a restaurant, and anywhere my kids were. Cell phones can be addictive. I love my phone.

These days, moms and dads of little ones live in a wild world. So many distractions. So many friends and strangers to keep up with. Family, work and a smaller and smaller world to manage. I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know if I could be a young mom today.

But back to the waiting room… I looked back down at my phone. Then one of the big doors opened and I heard a woman’s voice, “Daniel?”

The little boy who was holding his own hands, pushed his hat back from his eyes and looked up.

His mom slowly stood and walked him to the voice. The voice talked again, “How are you today, Daniel? My name is Mary and I will be taking your pictures this afternoon.” She was standing at the door of the X-ray wing.

The door closed and Mary, Daniel and Daniel’s mom disappeared.

I thought about cell phones. I thought about how many times a day I bend my neck forward and glue my eyes to anything. Even if it’s the weather channel.

I. Waste. Time.

I turned off my phone.

I bent my neck forward and I prayed.

Here was my prayer:

“I don’t know why Daniel is here, God. You do.

I hope it isn’t serious.

Thank you for Mary’s kind voice.

I hope he isn’t afraid when Mary “takes pictures” with something much bigger than a cell phone.

I hope her machine isn’t looking for something scary.

I hope Mary looks Daniel in the eyes when she explains the procedure.

Be with Daniels’ mom. She must feel scared, too.

I’m sorry for stepping away from life, and for wasting time.

When Daniel and his mom leave, I hope she is holding his hand as they walk out to the parking lot.

I hope she is holding his hand so he doesn’t have to.”

May I Help You? (For those who have endured abuse)

May I help you?

Some people may have suggestions.

Even if you didn’t ask.

Some may say you must be strong! You must be fierce! You must fight! You are tough!

But you didn’t ask.

They don’t know you have fought far too long. You are tired of wars.

Some may say, “Forget your sad story and move on with your life.”

Nope, you didn’t ask. Some people need to believe they know all the answers even when they know nothing about you.

Some people talk so they don’t have to listen.

Some may ignore you. This can hurt. But it is their own insecurity. Perhaps their own immaturity. 

This is not a reflection on you. You are beautiful. They are uncomfortable.

So, may I help you?

Take your time.

I might not have any answers. I probably won’t.

Personally, every survivor has their own distinct horror story. I respect you and your story.

Would you like to talk about it?

Is it easier to whisper? Or shout? Or let your tears do the talking?

What would comfort you?

You may ask for what you need. Always.

You may tip-toe or stomp or curl up on the couch.

Your answers are the right answers. Take all the time you need.

If you need to fight, I will go to war with you.

For now, I will sit with you. I will make the tea. I will be present. I will listen.

May I help you, dear one?

The Burden of Being Human: Blessings and Woes

The Burden of Being Human: Blessings and Woes

Blessed are you when you leave everything behind, including your homeland to protect your family from violence.

Blessed are you when the violence you left is waiting for you in the country you hope will protect you, as soon as you cross the border.

Blessed are you when your local school is shot up by a gunman as he fires and kills your children and friends.

Blessed are you when your son, who was alive yesterday, was gunned down in the street near your home, and now you are planning his funeral.

Blessed are you when your government shuts-down, leaves you without pay, but your needs for food, medicine, and shelter are still a stark reality.

Blessed are you when you find your daughter overdosed on opioids.

Blessed are you when those with money and power take your money and power too.

Blessed are you when you work full-time as a teacher but must have another job so you can pay your bills.

Blessed are you when your skin is any color but white.

Blessed are you when insults, racial slurs, foul language, and other word-atrocities are hurled at you.

Blessed are you when you don’t know where your child is and you are in a foreign land.

Blessed are you when your baby’s cries ring in your ears. The cries you heard when she was ripped out of your arms.

Blessed are you when you have been abused in mind, body, or soul.

Blessed are you when the burden of a government, which should care for the people, weighs heavily on your own shoulders.

******

Woe to you who take food from the hungry. In a country where many are over-filled – woe to you when you do not give to those with little or nothing.

Woe to you if you think one race is superior to another. No skin is different from another in the eyes of God.

Woe to you if you spend your money to comfort only yourself and your family. Give to others generously and often – or you will be emptied by your selfishness.

Woe to you if you use your power to destroy creation, lives, hope, the future. If you cause destruction, your own soul is gone.

Woe to you if you condemn, make fun of, or abuse someone who is different from you. Do not harm sisters and brothers. Each one has God’s handprints on them.

Woe to you if you use the name of Jesus Christ to promote bigotry, racism, or misogyny. Jesus Christ loved the stranger, the enemy, the outsider, the criminal, the sinner. Do not use his name against anyone. Ever.

Woe to you if you scheme and collude to enrich yourself, while letting others suffer at your dishonesty. You will be relieved of all you take. Sackcloth and ashes will be your clothes and food.

Woe to you if you lie. Liars are always revealed.

Woe to you if you if you follow a corrupt leader. Your heart is on full display. Woe to you.

WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! STOP!

Where is the comfort in this? Where is the Good News in this? Where is the healing, wholeness, kindness, openness, and love in this?

In 1968 Martin Luther King Jr. preached a Lenten sermon at the National Cathedral in Washington DC two Sundays before Easter. In that sermon he said this:

“We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made, this is the way it is structured.”

Thankfully, we have this entire sermon on record. His words live forever. He was dead before the next Sunday, Palm Sunday.

We can’t just throw blessings and woes around. We can’t say, “Be filled” to a starving person without filling them with the food they need.

We can’t say, “It’s too bad about you and your family being separated,” unless we act on the behalf of all the families suffering from separation right now.

We can’t say, “So sorry about your loved one who was shot dead,” without lobbying for laws to protect innocent citizens from gun violence.

We can’t say, “Love who you love,” if we don’t fight to uphold the rights of the LGBTQ community.

Love is a verb. It is an action word. We, as the followers of Jesus Christ, are the action-takers.

So…

Blessed are you when you uplift another with a kind deed and thought-filled words. For you are other-focused.

Blessed are you when you shed a tear with another, as you wipe their own tears from their eyes. For you have empathy.

Blessed are you when you share food with those who hunger – for food. You will always have insight into the needs of others.

Blessed are you when you give more than you think you can, or should, to benefit someone who has little or nothing. For you have compassion.

Blessed are you when you aren’t afraid of being taken advantage of and give generously no matter what. For you will not be owned by material things.

Blessed are you when you stand up for someone being persecuted because of the color of their skin, who they love, or their history. For you have an open heart.

Blessed are you when your daily goal is to make someone’s life (someone you don’t know) a little easier. For you will gain wisdom.

Blessed are you when you hear stories of abuse or neglect, and you believe the story and love the teller. For you have chosen not to judge.

Blessed are you when you tear down walls of bigotry and hate and build beautiful bridges for easy crossings. You will lighten the burdens of those trodden-down.

Blessed are you when you speak the truth to power, especially when power has become corrupt and harm is being done to the masses. For you will have harnessed your own power.

Blessed are you when you marvel in the goodness of Jesus Christ and don’t argue over the dogma of Christianity. For you will understand true love.

Blessed are you when you see human beings as human beings. Each one a sister or brother worthy of respect and love. For you will know the true meaning of being human.

Blessed are you when the security of who you are, and the sureness of the God to whom you belong, allows you to invite and welcome “the other” to be a member of the family. For you will have a peaceful soul.

Blessed are you when you set fear aside and care for your neighbor with reckless, love-fueled, abandon. For you will have joy.

Blessed are you when you are able to live as you ought to live, because you have allowed others to live as they ought to live. And we are “one single garment of destiny.” For that is God’s good plan.

God in heaven recklessly loves us with complete abandon. God showers us with forgiveness, mercy and grace. Each of us is made in the image of the Almighty- our patient and purposeful God. The one who has redeemed us all.

Blessed are we when we live as redeemed people and spread that Good News lavishly.

Everywhere.

Amen.

Powerless- For those who have experienced sexual abuse

Powerless

I was asleep. With alcohol on your breath, you scared me awake.

I was powerless.

You were more than twice my size. I was twelve.

I was powerless.

I saw you in church twice a week. Youth group. Worship. Church was supposed to be safe. Holy.

I was powerless.

I babysat your sons. You scared me awake. You stunk. You hurt me. Over and over.

I was powerless.

Confusion. Silence. Fear. You used all these things. Your power.

Your power took away my being. Your power destroyed my security.

I was powerless.

I went through more trauma. Another abuser. Deep pain. Crisis of my body and soul. In silence.

Silence never heals. Silence hurts from the inside. Silence hovers in the darkness.

Words bring power to silence.

I spoke. Words poured out. Someone listened. Someone asked questions. Someone listened again and again and again. I grew up.

A trickle of strength wiped away confusion.

A supportive ear brought truth to light.

Insecurity was still my only dress. Shame and guilt clung to my spirit.

Being powerless is heavy. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to walk.

Deep breath. One foot in front of the other.

Power.

Words. Support. Air. Breath. New paths.

Power.

I can say yes. I can say no.

Power.

I love my body and love that it is loved.

Power.

My spirit has been restored and renewed.

I can listen to other stories. I can cry with another. I can remind a friend to breathe air that has no stench. I can help another find security to wear – new clothes of wholeness and light, and yes, holiness. We will throw away shame and guilt. Too heavy. They don’t fit. We never should have had them wrapped around us. We can put one foot in front of the other. Together.

Power.

Those who took away our being have lost. They are…

Powerless.

They are ghosts. We won’t be harmed. They are…

Powerless.

Because we breathe fresh air, and put one foot in front of the other, and find love and acceptance, they are…

Powerless.

We choose to take back every ounce of our power.

Those who tried to destroy us, they are…

Powerless.

POWERLESS.

Dear Mr. President - January 2019

Dear Mr. President,

It’s January 2019. We are completely through the holidays and our government is shut down. Happy New Year to no one.

You are exhausting. The members of your diminishing base are rude and irreverent.  Everything you touch is poisoned and dying. Two years in your role and you have done nothing to make America anything but a suffering embarrassment.

The Republican Party in congress have shown not only how desperate and dirty they are for votes in two years, but also how spineless and cruel they are to the American people. What a crowd.

You’ve lost thousands of immigrant children. Others have been wretchedly abused. You smash families. You judge transgender soldiers who fight for freedom. You are trying to take away women’s rights. You are hollow and bleak.

I’m a preacher. I’ve was told once by a professor to preach the Good News every Sunday when I set foot in the pulpit. You make my work hard.

But I don’t follow you. I adhere to nothing you pretend to believe because you believe in nothing but your lies and deceit and chaos.

I personally follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. I’m sure you only know his name as a swear word.

Other people claim to follow him, but I’ve watched and listened to the same people who profess to love and follow Jesus attack immigrants, mock the only true natives of our country, and spew hatred for anyone who isn’t white and ignorantly conservative. Their hatred and fear bring darkness wherever they open their putrid mouths.

How do I preach Good News?

How do I keep my anger in check when I see faithful federal workers going to food banks to feed their families, instead of being able go to the grocery store with their well-earned paychecks?

How do I care for the “least of these” when you and your followers tear them apart piece by piece?

How do I protect the world and nature while you do everything possible to destroy our God-given creation?

You and your crony-filled administration and your thickheaded right-wing media make every day a bad news day.

But the day of reckoning is coming. Call it karma. Call it retribution. Call it victory for righteousness.

You are death to life. But death never wins. Life overcomes death.

You are darkness in the light. I know the Light of the World. Darkness cannot keep the Light away.

You are brine in fresh water. But I know the true Living Water.

You scatter those who need the most care. I know the Good Shepherd.

You starve those who are so very hungry. I know the Bread of Life.

My work of Good News is not just done in the pulpit. That would be too easy. The work of preaching Good News is more about doing than speaking.

If I believe in the Light, then I must share light with those living in darkness.

If I believe in the reviving Living Water, I must quench the thirst of those who are so very parched.

If I believe in gathering and uplifting those who have been scattered and lost, then I must find them and reclaim them in the name of the Good Shepherd.

The hungry must be fed, no matter what.

We don’t have to be Christians to do these things. But we must be decent. We must be generous. We must focus on others who are invisible in this world. We must empathetically pay attention to what is going on around us.

That might be where you and your followers get tripped up. Sad.

Ultra-conservatism doesn’t have a place in this country. We are country of human beings with human rights. We are a country of hopes. We are dreamers.

As you and your followers attempt to take away rights and hopes and dreams, the rest of us will resist and persist and be relentless in restoring goodness, righteousness and peace to our ailing land.

You know nothing of these things. The vocabulary of kindness confuses you.

You and those who speak your language will eventually be taken away to a place where you can’t hurt people anymore, and finally we will mend. We will heal.

And that is some very good news.

Pastor Barb

Dear Mr. President - Christmas 2018

Christmas 2018

Dear Mr. President,

It is the day after Christmas 2018. It sounds like you were somewhat lonely this holiday. I guess when you shut down the government right before a big day like Christmas, you have to stay in town instead of going off to play golf. Pity.

Yes, I pity you. You must be the loneliest man in the world, besides your two buddies – Kim and Vlad. Men who play the risky games you play don’t have friends. Staff and family members play your demanding game of flattery and obeisance. You isolate and are isolated.

As for our once-was-great-now-not-so-much country, you have wreaked one devastation upon another due to your revenge on Barack Obama, a President who brought greatness to the next level.

You make ridiculous promises you cannot keep. A promise is just air to you. No substance.

You have enraged our allies and friends. You have given secrets away to our enemies.

We’ve discovered (already knew) Russia elected you. Fake election. Fake President.

You have done all you can to destroy the environment.

You have tried to snatch reproductive rights, human rights, and healthcare from the people of our country.

You have the blood of dead children on your hands. Children held at our southern border. Those stains cannot be removed, no matter how many times you scrub.

You are a fool who listens to fools. You make policy based on crazy-talk by people of no morals and skeletal characters.   

But enough about you.

On Christmas Eve, my family and I worshiped. We heard the Christmas story. We sang Carols. I preached a sermon using white and black cloths. I won’t go into it here. We lit candles, and in the darkness of our sanctuary, we each held a flickering light as we sang Silent Night, Holy Night to the gentle music of a guitar.

And it was holy. And for a moment we had the opportunity to be at the coarse, dirty manger which held a helpless babe. The one who came to this earth to save us all.

It was a poignant reminder that we have someone more powerful than any earthly leader who has decided we are creatures worth saving. Even in the midst of our messes, unbelief, anger, fear, and pain, we still have hope.

We have a tiny flicker of light that won’t be overcome by darkness.

Our hope will outlast your hate.

Our hope will outlast your revenge.

Our hope will make the change you can’t begin grasp.

Our hope will make known your secrets and darkness deeds.

For light exposes everything that lives in darkness. That’s the purpose of light.

When many people each held a tiny light, a sanctuary glowed with warmth. 

I believe you will be gone from power soon, as well as those of your ilk. All the cowards and takers. All those who towed a party-line and tossed the most vulnerable of our society overboard. You will all unravel, as evil does. Sadly, you will leave chaos in your wake.

Humankind was created free. We each have choices we can make, for good or ill. We can reject God altogether, but he never rejects us. Some people don’t believe that either. Pity.

I pity those like you who live and work in darkness.

Light overcomes darkness. We will overcome. We will clean up your mess. We will shine with justice and righteousness and goodness.

Christmas Eve is a beautiful evening and makes us feel warm and cozy inside.

In reality, it was a night when a cosmic and violent revolution began.

God decided to risk everything one holy night to redeem all that was wrong with creation. I wouldn’t bet against him. God keeps promises.

A dear friend of mine wrote me a sonnet this past year. In it he gave me a name: Relentless Dove. It’s the most powerful and moving name I have ever received. My husband had our talented wood-working neighbor put this lovely name on amber wood with a dove in the center. My husband gave it to me privately yesterday morning and I cried at the beauty of it. I don’t feel I deserve such a name or work of art. It is hanging next to my desk. I will see it every day over and over and over again.  

In closing, here’s to 2019. After two years of your petulance and tantrums and destruction, we will carry the light into a better year. We will wait you out. And when you’re gone, there will be rejoicing and celebration, but also much work to do. The work of love, compassion and reparation.

With absolute sincerity,

Relentless Dove

Wait with Hope - Becky's Story

First Sunday of Advent

“Wait with Hope – Becky’s Story”

I think we’ve all heard the saying, “Hope is not a strategy.”

But what is left when we do not know which direction to go? For a lot of things in life we can “plan the work, then work the plan.” (That’s one of my husband’s favorite sayings.)

How do we plan the work of the end times? It’s not our work to do, and to be honest we couldn’t do it anyway. It’s God’s plan. It’s God’s work.

We just make the tea.

Our passages today come as promises from the prophet Jeremiah and Jesus.

Jeremiah, imprisoned at the time, is speaking to the Israelites who are watching and waiting for a Messiah. The prophet tells the people that God will keep all the promises made to the houses of Israel and Judah. They will return from captivity in Babylon and a “righteous Branch” will spring up for David. And there will be safety and salvation.

While Jeremiah is promising light in the darkness, Jesus is promising a time of darkness before the light of his power and glory in his second coming.

In advent, we wait for the second coming of Christ.

Every generation has had prophets and speakers of doom. Every generation has seen nation rise against nation. Distress and the roaring of the seas have brought fear and foreboding to the people of earth.

We live in that today.

It is not worth preaching advent if we pretend we are not living in scary times. There is ugliness assaulting us every day. The worst of humanity doing the worst to humanity. (I’m not being political this week, but you can read my thoughts!)

It is out of our control. We can not plan the work, then work the plan because so much of what happens leaves us in despair. We grasp but we cannot hold.

If I asked you a time in your life when you had to wait for something, good or bad, I know we could fill a book with the stories in this sanctuary today.

For me, there is one powerful story when our family was in darkness waiting for the light.

Doug and I have a blended, extended family. He brought two adult children and I brought four not-quite-adults into our marriage. We were not the Brady Bunch.

But last year, 2017, our family came together around my stepdaughter, Becky.

Becky’s story…

Becky’s wedding. After going through a divorce, Becky found a brand, new, true love when she met John. A perfect match. They were married in January of 2017. They created their own blended, extended family. Becky has two children and John has three. It was a wonderful wedding and a truly joyous occasion.

One month after the wedding, Becky was diagnosed with breast cancer. The glow of the wedding dimmed. This was not right. This was not fair. We were all shocked and scared.

Becky had surgery and needed time to heal from that before beginning chemotherapy. 

We watched and waited and waited some more. It was a helpless kind of waiting. There was no plan. No work. Except for everything Becky had to go through. None of us could take her disease from her, it was hers alone.  

Treatments began. Becky began her chemotherapy and every Thursday she and John went in together. John was Becky’s supporter and protector. A chivalrous man if there ever was one.

Doug and I felt more of helplessness that comes with watching a child suffer. We tried to figure out what to do to let Becky know we were praying for her. We wanted her to know how much we loved her.

We fully understood that it was not Becky’s responsibility to relieve our fears and anxieties about her cancer. She didn’t need more phone calls asking her how she felt. She didn’t need uninvited visits from people who just wanted to look at her. She didn’t need more food brought to her front door.

So, we decided to send a white rose every Thursday to be delivered when she returned from chemo. Every Thursday chemotherapy, a rose, and a word.

Words:

Perseverance

Peace

Strength

Expectation

Confidence

Courage

Steadfast faith

Assurance

Optimism

Anticipation

Hallelujah! The Final Rose!

Every Wednesday I ordered the rose for Thursday. After the first two or three orders for a single white rose and a word, the young woman at the florist asked me who I was ordering them for. Who was “Becky?”

I told her about Becky and how we hoped a rose and a word would cheer and comfort her after her treatments. She was very sympathetic and then shared with me that her mother had just completed chemotherapy for breast cancer. She told me some of the things Becky might want to be aware of as her chemo progressed. She was very compassionate.

Within a couple of days, I received an email from the young woman at the florist. She had told her boss about Becky. About the cancer, the chemo, and the single white rose being delivered every Thursday. Her boss was moved and said that on Becky’s last day of chemo, the flower shop would send one dozen white roses to Becky as a gift and a celebration for finishing the twelve weeks of chemo.

Doug and I were moved beyond words. We were witnessing HOPE being shared by strangers. We were witnessing HOPE that could be spread with care and generosity.

 One dozen white roses on the last day of chemo.

The very first rose we sent to Becky was the white rose of HOPE.

Pain and despair and illness and world affairs have the power to numb us to the good news of Jesus Christ. But we will not let ourselves be numbed by the creeping darkness.

We feel pain and fear and joy because we pay attention. We watch and listen and cry and rejoice. When we pay attention to our world, we pay attention to God’s activity in the world. When we pay attention, we know how to be more generous, more forgiving, more loving, more aware of the needs of those around us.

Becky has been cancer free for over a year. Our blended, extended family continues to rejoice. And this includes the people at the florist, who somehow became part of this whole light-shining-through-the-darkness story. A young woman who paid attention and asked a question. “Who is Becky?”

I say again, Becky’s husband, John, was and is a tower of compassion, strength, humor and support. John and Becky are a dynamic couple. Their love is fun to watch.

Maybe… hope is a strategy. Because our hope is so intricately entwined with our faith. We believe in a God who keeps promises. We are alert, with our heads held high. We pay attention to the signs, not just the signs of our time, but the signs of our lives. It’s the way we know spring will come again when we see the first tiny flower poking up from the snow. Hope is the strategy, and faith is the work.

We have hope knowing the God of creation is also the God of salvation. No evil or ugliness on this earth, or in any person, can dim the light of righteousness.

Jeremiah talks about a “branch of righteousness.” That was the hope he gave to the Israelites.

But I think more of hope in this way, “Low how a rose e’er blooming, from tender stem hath sprung.”

Because I believe hope comes from a tender and tentative place. To hope takes gentle courage. To hope means seeing light where there may not be light. Yet.

We will wait in this advent season, not just with hope. But expectant hope. We will see the light that shines through the thickest darkness. We will watch with our heads high and our hearts open.

For the true rose of hope.

Amen.