May 5, 2023

Our backyard neighbors had solar panels installed on their roof this week. As part of the installation, they had a large Black Walnut tree removed from their yard to allow the new panels as much direct sunlight as possible. I confess I never did like that tree.

The tree was old, and huge, and during windstorms its large branches would sway heavily. Occasionally a branch would break off and knock out electricity for our street. Some of the larger branches hung a bit too close to our roof for our liking. I had other reasons for giving that tree the side eye as well. I am deathly allergic to walnuts, and every fall it would drop hundreds and hundreds of walnuts into our back yard. Not only would I avoid going into the back yard during those times, but the size of the tree and number of walnuts dropped on the ground meant that, per doctor's orders, I could not grow vegetables for my own consumption in the yard because they would be tainted with walnut protein from the soil.

I was not heartbroken the day that tree came down.

And yet.

When looking out into my backyard now, I find myself noticing the place where the tree had reached into the sky with a bit of wistfulness. I suppose I'd grown accustomed to its big-branch creaking sounds, because it feels strangely quiet in my yard now. And I've seen squirrels running around the spot where it stood as if they're saying, "I swear, it was right here." I've wondered where they'll get their winter stash of food this year, without those hundreds and hundreds of walnuts.

I'm not sad that the tree is gone. But I appreciate what it was now, more than I did before, and I do wish I'd appreciated it a bit more when it was part of my landscape. Of course, my appreciation would not have made a difference for the tree, but it would have saved me some grouchy feelings toward a fellow inhabitant of God's Earth. The tree did nothing intentionally wrong, I realize, when it waved hello at me with heavy branches during windstorms and offered me gifts of walnuts.  

My prayer for you this week is to find something to appreciate even in something you don't actually appreciate. The Book of Genesis tells us that God saw everything created as good. And the Psalmist reminds us to give thanks in all things. My prayer for you this week is to be able to look at the world around you with the eyes of God, and to give thanks even when (especially when?) thanks is not the first reaction. Changing our lens just might change our hearts. And if I can come to appreciate a walnut tree, just think what you can do with your God lens.

April 28, 2023

Sometimes the privilege of walking through this life with each of you as we celebrate joys together, manage sorrows together, share life stories, ask questions, wonder, and seek the Divine together... sometimes the privileges of this life together are enough to stop me in my tracks. It's all I can do to give thanks and hold back grateful tears. This was one of those weeks. There were joys and sorrows. There were some late nights and some early mornings, there were two funerals in my wider world, and another one today, and there are two weddings in the works. There was a beautiful Bible Study gathering. There were phone meetings and Zoom meetings and in-person meetings. There were a whole bunch of emails and, please forgive me, I imagine some I missed as well. There was paperwork and calendar-setting, there were frustrations and celebrations, and twice when I arrived at church there were deer in the outdoor chapel. It is all such a great privilege and sometimes my heart overflows with the wonder of it all. 

My prayer for you this week is that some heart-overflowing-with-gratitude moments, big or small, find you. My prayer is for the wonder of the world, its joys and sorrows, to give you a peek into heart of the Divine.

April 21, 2023

Is it just me, or have the weeks since Easter felt a bit heavy in our world? We've experienced the death of our own Karen Campbell, and I know some of you have experienced other losses, and changes in circumstance, in your own lives as well. In my own life, my wonderful Aunt Lynn died a week ago, far too young, several months after a cancer diagnosis. In our national news, we've had some more shocking and deeply disturbing incidences around gun violence based on fear and intolerance. There are laws being pass with the intent to discriminate. At least for me, these weeks have been a heavy time.

And yet, I've been reflecting on the fact that this is what Easter is all about: regardless of any of the devastating circumstances we each experience in our lives at times, fear, pain, and death never have the last word. In fact, quite the contrary, thanks be to God. 

As I drove home from church on Thursday, between rain showers, I marveled at all of the green suddenly popping up everywhere. Where just a few weeks ago we had snow (!) and then all of the mucky brown that had been hidden all winter, suddenly GREEN everywhere I looked, shimmering in the spring rain. I could not stop looking at, and marveling at, it. What a gift! What a gift, this life. Even when it's impossibly difficult at times.

My prayer for you this week is to let your eyes soak in all of the shimmering green. Even if, especially if, your heart has felt a bit heavy. Let the new buds on the trees and the brightening all around you remind you that stuck in the muck is never the end. Now the green blade rises - and love lives, thanks be to God.

April 14, 2023

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Thank you to all who helped make this a beautiful and meaningful Holy Week and Easter Sunday. It would be impossible to name everyone but please know all your efforts were seen and so appreciated. Special thanks this year to:

• Kate and Jenny for organizing hospitality and all who brought food and set up and cleaned up

• To all who participated in the Vigil skits and to all who read during services

• To Nancy, Karen, and the Altar Guild support who did so much behind the scenes (including Janine, who ran out to Ace Hardware to save the day the evening of Easter Vigil - that was a story!)

• To Tony, Naomi, and the choir who added so much to our services with their stunning musical offerings

• Our vergers and acolytes

• RaeKell and her crew who supported the Easter Bunny's visit to Saint Anne's

• Kathy, who printed a gazillion bulletins

• The Rev. Luis Ottley in his first Holy Week as a deacon

• Bishop Marty and Spirit of Hope for their partnership

• All of you who showed up in so many ways, body, mind, and/or spirit, to enter Holy Week, that most sacred time, together

And now we get to spend the Great 50 Days of Easter watching the snow melt and marveling at the way all things, even in what seemed to be the most impossible situations, can be made new. We get to spend the 50 Days of Easter wondering, seeking, doubting, seeing, growing, and celebrating together. 

My prayer for you this week is that you see the risen Christ everywhere you look: in the greening of the earth, in a smile from a stranger, and in the beating of your own heart. My prayer for you this week is that, in some way, that one thing had seemed to you to be an impossible situation in your world can be made new.

March 31, 2023

Theologian Richard Rohr writes this about Holy Week: Holy Week, a week when we are invited to practice the most basic and most sacred rhythm of the spiritual life: the rhythm of death, burial, and resurrection. The Paschal mystery. It is not a rhythm that any of us would willingly choose or even know how to choose; it is usually thrust upon us. Even Jesus admitted to having mixed feelings about the inevitability of it all. Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—”Father, save me from this hour?”  (John 12:27)

I know (I know!) that Holy Week is a lot of church; a lot to balance with everything else we all have going on. And yet, this is our story. I invite you deeply into it.

There is nothing like being in community as we practice this "most sacred rhythm" of our common life; I invite you to come to the offerings as services we have in-person as you're able. In addition, though, on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday, you'll receive emails with readings and other ways to enter the story at home.

And finally, my most surprising Holy Week practice from last year: Holy Week Texts from Try Tank, an Episcopal "experimental lab". During Holy Week, Try Tank sends texts as "Breaking News" updates such as "JUST IN. Jesus arrives at the house of Simon the leper in Bethany and is anointed with a costly jar of oil." These little pop ups throughout the week last year brought the story to life in a new way. You can stop the texts at any time, and Try Tank never makes contact during the rest of the near, nor shares phone numbers. Text EASTER to 833.629.1076 to give it a try! (Pun intended, feel free to throw tomatoes.)

This is our story. The struggle and the joy. It is a blessing to share it all with you. We'll begin with our celebration of Palm Sunday this week. 🌴

March 24, 2023

It's happening! New life, where just a short time ago, we saw only ice and snow. Right outside our own church doors, it's happening!

It feels like a surprise and a miracle every single year to see those first tender greens come up. Of course this new life has been waiting to burst forth, all along. We knew it was was there, under the deep snow, through all of those long winter nights. But for some reason, I almost forget, every year, that this miracle will come. I almost forget, every year, how it feels to see this miracle unfold. 

It's easy, I suppose, when we're in the middle of any cold and shadowed season - whether meteorological or metaphorical - to allow ourselves to get buried in the - meteorological or metaphorical - ice and snow. To forget what true warmth feels like, even when we know intellectually that there is something new waiting for its time to burst forth. It's difficult, sometimes, to remember the miracle will always be coming.

My prayer for you this week is to know, as a truth kept deep in your heart, that there are miracles waiting under whatever ice and snow you find yourself in. And to know, as a truth kept deep in your heart, that these miracles will burst forth. My prayer for you this week, and always, is to see these miracles above, beneath, and all around you.

March 17, 2023

This week has been a flurry of activity, from lively Lenten Wednesdays to Holy Week planning to Luis Ottley's ordination tonight, with two Bishops in attendance as well as clergy, family, and friends from various parts of Minnesota and Atlanta, and so many Saint Annians jumping in to help. It's been joyful, and bustling, and quite a contrast from three years ago when we were just starting our initial COVID lockdown.

It is quite an astonishing thing, really, to reflect on all that has happened in the last three years. All we have lost, and some we have gained. All of the ways we have grown and shifted, and held tightly to what is most important. Through all of our struggles and celebrations, our worries and thanksgivings, our griefs and joys, the cycles of life continue. It makes me feel both small, and hugely connected to the heartbeat of God. Connected to each of you, as well. 

My prayer for you this week is to feel the astonishment of your life. The struggles and the pain, and the love that holds us together. The love in which God holds you.

March 10, 2023

Episcopal Bishop Steven Charleston shared the following meditation this week:

Will I ever feel it again? That deep sense of calm, of serenity, of safety? There were times as a child that I felt enveloped by the small universe of my own creation, at peace with the Spirit who shared my farmhouse on the edge of everywhere. There were times as an adult when I felt I had discovered the heart of hope, a hilltop view of the wonders yet to come. Will I ever feel that way again? Yes: as long as I trust the sacred I leave the door open to a peace that passes understanding.

I sat with these beautiful and haunting words for a little while. I thought about the times as a child I felt "at peace with the Spirit", and I thought about the times as an adult I "discovered the heart of hope". I also thought about the times I've lost those feelings of safety, connection, and hope. I thought about this season of Lent and the wilderness times in each of our lives. And I thought about each of you and the very difficult things, sometimes impossibly difficult things, you have gone through, or are going through.

In the middle of a wilderness time, feeling safe and at peace can seem beyond us. The good news is that even when the peace that passes all understanding feels beyond us, we are not beyond it. My prayer for you this week is that wherever you are on your life's journey right now - the joy of it or the pain of it - you are able to leave the door to the sacred propped open. Peace and hope will be found again, just on the other side, and you will get there. This is God's promise.

March 3, 2023

My husband and I had a chance this week to go see one of our favorite musicians, Bob Weir, play at The Palace in St. Paul with his band Wolf Bros. Those who know Bob Weir know he was a founder of the band The Grateful Dead, and those who know me know that The Grateful Dead are near and dear to my heart, and are a factor in my call to the priesthood.

For me, attending a concert in this genre with the audience that attends these shows feels like a glimpse into what the Kingdom of Heaven might be. There is a kindness, a gentleness, and a generosity among that crowd that feels natural, and yet it is very intentional. There are certain unwritten rules at Dead shows:

1. Be kind. Open smiles, pleases, thank yous, can I help yous, come sit here, we have room are all the norm at Dead shows.

2. Be generous. It is common for people to walk around calling out, "Miracle?", meaning they are searching for a free ticket. It stems from the Grateful Dead song I Need A Miracle; the chorus goes like this:

Just one thing and I'll be OK / I need a miracle every day

It is just as thrilling to give a miracle at a Dead show as it is to receive one.

3. Be grateful. (No pun intended!) Every Grateful Dead concert is different, so one never knows how an evening will unfold, but accepting what is offered with joy is an unwritten part of attending a show. "There are no bad shows!" is a choice.

4. Be comfortable in your belovedness. A crowd favorite is a song called Lovelight, and the chorus goes:

Turn on your lovelight / Let it shine on me / Let it shine, let it shine.

I love that this song is about directly asking for what is needed. No hemming or hawing or "I am not worthy" in this one. Just an open and vulnerable ask for what we all need: love from the people around us, and the certainty that we are each deserving of it.

Does all of that sound familar? I am not saying Bob Weir is Jesus, but he does have a long beard and he happens to wear sandals... hmmm....  Or maybe it's just that Bob Weir, in his own way, has shepherded a community which, whether knowingly or unknowingly, lives out the teachings of Jesus in some very real ways. It's a beautiful thing to witness, and in a world that can seem sometimes like a desert journey, it's an oasis. 

I pray for you this week some small reminders of all the ways we can experience the Kingdom of Heaven, here and now: for your open smile to meet another's, for you to encounter a generous miracle every day, for accepting with joy the gifts that come your way, and for lovelight to shine on you. I pray for an oasis whenever you find yourself on a desert journey. 

February 24, 2023

At the family-centered Ash Wednesday service this week, we all gathered together around the altar during Communion, noting that Communion sounds a lot like community. We talked about how during our Eucharistic Prayers we begin by telling the story of God and God's people, and we give thanks.

I invited the kids to share with me some things that remind them of God's presence, and these thanksgivings became part of our Eucharistic Prayers. "Family", one child said. "Family!", I repeated. "Friends", another child said. "Friends!", I repeated.  "Pets", were included next. "Pets!", I affirmed. Then one of our young Saint Anne's said, "Alaskan kids". Alaskan kids? An image of kids bundled up and playing happily in the snow popped into my head. Ok, I thought, in our Eucharistic Prayers, right next to our ancestor Abraham (and our ancestor Abraham Lincoln, added by one young Saint Annian), we will be thankful for Alaskan kids. 

"Alaskan kids!", I added to the mix. "What?", the child asked. "Alaskan kids!", I repeated. "Nooooo", the child laughed. "I said we can be thankful for laughing kids. Ohhh.... Laughing kids, not Alaskan kids. Now that made us all laugh!

And now the phrase "Alaskan kids" won't leave my head. In the middle of an email, or a Zoom call, or while walking my dogs, I will suddenly think "Alaskan kids!" In a way I cannot quite explain, it has been a delightful gift. For some reason, the unexpected way "Alaskan kids" showed up at our Communion table, asking me to simply give thanks without question, has made me more aware of God showing up all around us in unexpected ways. Made me more aware of finding thanksgiving, without questions, in all kinds of situations.

I have decided my Lenten practice this year will be to keep myself open to completely unusual thanksgivings. Manifestations of God that I might not previously considered. I will strive to find one new revelation of God each day. If I ever wonder if, perhaps, the revelation I've found is too unexpected, I will think "Alaskan kids at the Communion table" and I will give thanks without question. 

My prayer for you this week, and this Lent, is to find a simple, daily, Lenten practice that allows you to experience God in new, and maybe unexpected, manners and places. And I would love to hear all about it.

February 17, 2023

I am writing to you from the Brainerd Lakes area, where I am attending the annual ECMN clergy conference. Though only a few hours north, the weather here is quite different from what I left at home. More in line with the true Minnesota mid-February weather that we normally get "down in the Cities", as they say. Brrr! But the conference center is warm, and the company even warmer. 

This year, the title and theme of this gathering is The Hope That is in Us: Finding Jesus in the Heart of Our Story. Bishop Loya has intentionally shifted the language around this annual event from clergy conference to clergy retreat. His hope is that this can be a time to share stories and experiences, and a time to refresh both our spirits and our connections with one another. His hope is that this can be a time to remind ourselves of the why and sense of joy behind the work we do. 

At Saint Anne's annual Vestry retreat, which will take place the first weekend in March, we will be asking ourselves the same questions: Why church? Why Saint Anne's? Where is Jesus in the heart of our story as a community? I encourage all of us to consider these questions. What answers come easily? What questions linger in your mind and in your heart? Feel free to share with me, or with any Vestry member, or simply continue to ponder. There are no right or wrong answers! 

My prayer for you this week is for you to sense the why at the heart of your story. And may you find, in that sense of why, refreshment, connection, and joy. 

February 3, 2023

Being in COVID isolation for the last 14 days has meant I have been back to connecting via Zoom meetings and my lingering cough has mean more email communication than phone calls. The switch was smooth in terms of logistics, but it sent me back in memory to nearly three years ago when we all needed to learn the new term "social distancing". Not a place we'd like to be again.

I missed seeing all of you on Sundays. I missed Bible Study. I missed working with Kathy, and missed the surprise drop-ins from various community members when working in my office at church. I missed getting together in person to do Lenten and Holy Week planning. I missed eating dinners with my family, as not all of us were COVID positive and we, too, needed to keep distances. And, beloveds, I went two weeks without any Target or Aldi runs! 

What I missed in personal connections, I tried to make up for in more time to plan, prepare, and pray about all that is to come. As your new Vestry prepares to gather in retreat to do some visioning for Saint Anne's, I had time to reflect on who we are and who we are called to be. As Lenten plans came together, I had time to pray for each of you - for your sprits to be filled with the wonder that can come from 40 days set aside as "desert time". As Solar plans become more focused, I've rejoiced in all the ways humans create and invent and imagine better ways. As we enter Black History Month, and we all grapple with the details of the murder of Tyre Nichols, I've prayed for deep changes for our communities, our country, our world. 

More than anything though, and frustrating as it's been, I've spent the last 14 days feeling grateful. Grateful for all the check ins and offers to help. Grateful to have come out on the other side; I carry in my heart those who have not, especially in our Saint Anne's family and extended family. Grateful to have a community I miss when I'm away. Grateful for all that is and all that will be. Grateful for so many opportunities to say, once again, thanks be to God. For all of it.

My prayer for you this week is that you, too, have reasons to look both inward and outward and offer that simple prayer: thanks be to God.  

January 27, 2023

If you were in church last week you are already aware, for those who were not, I'll share in this space that after nearly three years of dodging it, I finally came down with COVID. As of this writing, I am still testing positive, but I am doing well and hoping for that negative test and a return to regular life ASAP! A huge thank you to the Rev. Joanie Delamater who so graciously stepped in at the last minute, to Tony, Naomi, and RaeKell, for carrying on as usual, and to our Verger and Acolyte team. Thank you to Kathy for holding things together at church this week. 

Thank you to Andy and Jon for their set up for the Annual Meeting, and for Joan and Dennis for running it. Thank you to Sandy and Nancy for their presentations and to Jeff for presenting the Financials - and for all he does. And thank you to everyone who has checked in, offered to bring food, and kept me in your prayers. I am blessed by your care, and grateful.

One of my deep sadnesses about missing the Annual Meeting was not being able to publicly thank those who stepped down from leadership last week as a new Vestry was voted in. For privacy purposes, I won't use surnames here, but I do not want to miss the chance to publicly thank:

Andy. Andy served his three-year term on Vestry as our IT Liaison, stepping in just as we were beginning to dip our toes into live streaming. His wisdom, expertise, and the calm and clear manner in which he approaches every discussion were so valued. His creativity and ability to see things in new ways often brought solutions to issues on the table. Andy is a true leader and I am grateful he chose to share his leadership with Saint Anne's.

Audrey. Audrey has served as Clerk of Vestry for the last I-don't-know-how-many years. Her faithful presence at each month's meeting was steady and true, and I have absolutely no idea how she always managed to take a full and lively discussion or debate on any given topic, and record it into orderly and organized form. A true skill! Audrey is now moving into a Liaison role on the Vestry, so we will not need to say goodbye, but I did want to say thank you for all of the years of Clerking, Audrey. 

Emilie. Emilie served her three-year term on Vestry as our Worship Committee Liaison. She lead monthly Worship meetings with grace, collaboration, and always a warm welcome to new voices. She was also a member of the COVID-Action Team, and her insights into best practices and how to combine that with worship were guidance both teams relied on heavily. (And thank you for stepping up to serve next as Warden, Emilie!!)

Nancy. Nancy stepped into another round of leadership on Vestry as the one-year-term Beautification Liaison...three years ago. Generously agreeing to re-election for two additional years was such a gift. Nancy's eye for detail, her experience in project management, her knack for coming up with manageable solutions for any hurdle, and her willingness to offer her time and energy are huge gifts she shares freely. Thank you, Nancy!

Joan. Joan stepped into leadership as a Warden mid-COVID. That alone deserves a round of applause! But that is just who Joan is. If something needs to be done, she does it, and she isn't afraid to step into the muck of it all. Muck or not, though, over the course of the last two years, Joan and I have spent much of our time together laughing, because Joan is also a person who approaches everything as an adventure, and her "Why not" attitude is contagious. Getting to know Joan as I have over the last few years has been a true joy and watching her put faithfulness to our mission as people of God always front and center has been an inspiration. Joan, I am glad you'll be able to set down some of the responsibility you've carried - and I will miss you.

There are always so many people to thank in our community. We are blessed with so many who do so much and share so freely of their gifts. But the Vestry members stepping off this year were true rocks and anchors for Saint Anne's, and for me, during a time when nothing felt very grounded or certain. My gratitude runs deep.

January 20, 2023

Every year I write a Priest's Report for the Annual Report, which is presented at the Annual Meeting. Here is my submission for this year's report, summarizing Saint Anne's in 2022.

_____________________________________________ 

I long to see you so that...you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith. (Romans 1:11)
 
I remember clearly the first Sunday in 2022 that we could be together for services in person after yet another long span of time of worshiping virtually. Tony and I standing in the office looking out the windows, watching cars pulling into the parking lot and saying “Here they come!” The excitement of children bursting through doors, familiar faces saying, “Good morning! Good morning!”, and welcoming new faces as well. And then there was the flurry of how do we do this again?? The kids have grown, do we still have acolyte robes of the right size? Where are the Sunday morning leadership blocks? Do I have time to grab new batteries for my mic while Tony is playing the prelude? Where is the camera located, so I can greet those joining virtually. Where is the hand sanitizer?!!

In many ways, 2022 was a year of starting over. It has been joyful to be together, and it has been an opportunity to take stock of who and where we are; who and where we want to be. What old traditions still have meaning and joy? What old traditions is it time to let go? What systems are working for us and what systems do we need to tweak? What new needs have come up in our community and wider neighborhoods and how can we serve those new needs?

This was the year we welcomed Naomi Karstad as Choir Director, joining Tony in offering beautiful ways to worship through music, and the year RaeKell Lambert stepped in, first as Interim Children’s Director and now as the “Hey, this is working out really well, let’s keep going a bit!” Children’s Director. This was the year Wendy, Gordon, and Hadley went on to greater glory and our hearts broke. The year we baptized three new Episcopalians and welcomed newborn Estella Joy. We celebrated The Rev. Gwen Powell’s ordination and welcomed Luis Ottley as a priest intern.

This was the year we wrestled with the budget and turned down the heat just one more degree and built both a livestream booth and a healing prayers station in the sanctuary. This was the year we resumed coffee hours and adult education and Eucharistic visiting. We made steps toward installing solar panels at Saint Anne’s. We bonfired!

This was the year we got back, not to “normal”, but to the extraordinary gift of being together.

2022 highlighted that life is better in community. Through the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the endings and new beginnings. To come together to be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith is nothing short of a gift. What an honor it is to be encouraged by your faith, your joys, your struggles, your love, your lives. What an honor to be your priest. Thanks be to God.

January 6, 2023

Follow that star!

Where will it lead? Who's to say. Will the directions be clear? Not really. Are we sure it's safe? It is most definitely not "safe".

Follow that star!

I've been known to say this often, about whatever season we're entering, so feel free to laugh at...er... with me, but I think the Season of Epiphany might be my favorite. As the rest of the world has put everything related to all of the sacred holidays of this time on 90% clearance and moved on, we in the church are just beginning. During Epiphany, we remember that this is the start of our journey, not the end. We remember we are always being called closer to our great story; always being beckoned to that manger and everything it tells us about how to experience God here and now. And we're reminded that this great love story with God isn't just about us: all of creation, even the stars in the sky, are in it together! 

We don't know, exactly, what it will mean to draw ever closer to the light of Christ. We don't know what changes it will bring to continually try to step further toward it. Will it be challenging? Will we need to sacrifice? Quite likely. Will it change us? It should. And will it continue to shine brightly to guide our steps? It will, it will, it will. 

We'll celebrate Epiphany together at Saint Anne's tonight, January 6th, at 6:30 PM, by taking down the Christmas greens and then creating our own great light with a bonfire. We'll celebrate with Epiphany liturgies at 8:30 and 10:30 AM on Sunday. And please see below for a few ways to celebrate Epiphany at home, including the ancient ritual of chalking the door and inviting the blessings of this season into our homes at all times of year.

Follow that star!

December 23, 2022

This photo of the Saint Anne's kids at the Christmas pageant last week has become my new favorite:

Each time I look at this photo, I notice something new. Every single person in this photo is doing something different: looking their own direction, focused on their own role or daydreaming, or playing peek-a-boo with Baby Jesus. There's a giraffe in the scene, for unknown reasons (it remained there for the entire service), off-scene we have our director trying to coordinate sheep, and our musicians coordinating lyrics. There would be two more shepherds who would join the scene later, jumping right in as if they were born for the role, and there's a star shining above it all.

A beautiful, holy, chaos. Holy, joy-filled, chaos. Could the very first Christmas night have been much different?!

May your Christmas be full of holy chaos as well. May you try to get Baby Jesus' to smile, may you get lost in your own thoughts, may unexpected animal friends show up sometimes to keep you company. May music be playing in your background. May you see something new every time you look out into the world - may you see God anew, everywhere you look.

December 16, 2022

I have been unreasonably crabby and impatient as I go about my days lately. I have been joyful and excited about the Christmas Pageant and Solstice Service, and the return of my daughter from college, and I've been marveling at the beauty of snowfall. I've also been missing the sunshine, missing my Grandma, annoyed at slogging through mushy parking lots as I run errands, feeling weary from the rush-rush-rush of the days tumbling over one another, uninspired about Christmas presents, and every time I get a free minute, I'm turning my house inside out trying to find the (missing) baby Jesus from the creche my parents brought me from Jerusalem years ago.

Hrumph.

In trying to shake the Grinch loose, I reprogrammed all my XM radio presets to Christmas stations, and was immediately treated to my all-time favorite Christmas hymn: O Holy Night. I took the entire 5 minutes of the song to sit in my car in the church parking lot and let its peace soak into my soul. When I mentioned to a friend how grounded I felt after hearing the song, she directed me to a recent and beautiful article by Lutheran pastor Nadia Botz-Weber, about O Holy Night. Here is an excerpt:
 

     So fall on your knees.

     Fall on your knees before a God who Mary bore into this       
     world as delicate unprotected, unarmed, defenseless, lowly     
     flesh. Fall on your knees before the one who loves without
     caution, without measure, without concern for pre-existing
     conditions. Fall on your knees before a God in whose grace
     you can relax and try less hard and know that your flawed,
     imperfect, lumpy self is so totally loved and worthy to be loved.

     And in this season of over consumption and unmet
     expectations - in this season of family obligations and “I should
     feel happier than I do” or “I’m deeply happy and don’t feel like I
     can share that since so many people are miserable” in this
     season of loneliness and warmth and cookies and toxic
     nostalgia and having way too many people around, in this
     season of the very longest nights - may your soul feel its
     worth.

     And when the regret and grief about your errors creeps in, be
     gentle and maybe just congratulate yourself for being
     someone in whom God’s grace is at work. 

  
Now, I don't know exactly how to shake my current crabbiness entirely (never mind finding baby Jesus!), but I do know how to fall to my knees. So I'll keep doing that, and will do my best to remember that my flawed, imperfect self is still worthy. My prayer for you this week is that you feel the same - hopefully without as much slog to get there. But any way you arrive, on this Fourth Sunday of Advent, may your soul feel its worth. 

December 9, 2022

One of our readings for this coming Sunday is from Isaiah. It's a beautiful passage, describing in joy-full terms what it will look (and feel and sound) like here on Earth when the kingdom of God reigns. When Love is finally at the center of all we do, Peace falls like rain, and Joy blooms like spring fields. There is a line in the Psalm about this beautiful, vibrant, new world that has captured my imagination all week: 

A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way

I'm not sure what it is about that imagery - maybe the part of me that loves road trips -  but it draws me in and thrills me. So open and wild and free. An adventure! At the same time, so welcoming, sure, and delightful. A comfortably familiar passage. A road where the final destination remains the same, but the journey itself is a winding, sacred path, leading in and out, up and down, here and there. Surprises around every corner, brining you to a place you've always known.

Wherever this highway is, count me in.  Wanna come?

December 2, 2022

Dear Ones,

Several years ago, about this time of year, I was driving in my car when inspiration struck for THE Christmas Eve Sermon I just knew I had to preach. Since I was not able to stop and write down my (brilliant!) thoughts, I decided to text myself via voice text. "Hey Siri! Text me!", I called out. "What do you want to text to Me?", Siri replied. I began sharing my (brilliant!) thoughts on THE Christmas Eve Sermon I just knew I had to preach. I talked to Siri, texting myself, for a solid three minutes.

My (brilliant!) pondering was around the idea that we are each Mary, in the Christmas story. "YOU are Mary!", I voice-texted. "YOU are at the center of something new about to be born. YOU are giving birth to the Christ Child."

I went on. And on. Getting all of my thoughts out before I lost them. Yes, this would be THE Christmas Eve sermon; the one to inspire people everywhere. About 15 minutes later, having arrived at my destination, I received a new text alert. I thought it would be the marathon text I just sent to myself. It was not. It was one simple sentence in response to my marathon text from a few minutes earlier:

I think you have the wrong number.

I have no idea who I texted that day. All I know is some poor unsuspecting soul was just going about their day when suddenly they received the longest text in the world, proclaiming "YOU are giving birth to the Christ Child!" I am so sorry, poor, unsuspecting stranger.

I did not, as it turned out, preach THE Christmas Eve sermon that year. I couldn't do it without laughing. But this Advent, I bring the question to you. Perhaps we are not all Mary. But we are with her, every year at this time. Preparing, waiting, for new Light and new Hope to be born once again into a tired and hurting world. What role do you play this year, in ushering in all that can be? What is your role in the kingdom of God, waiting to be born? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to text me. ;)

November 18, 2022

When I walked into the Sanctuary last Sunday morning before the 8:30 service, the Altar Guild team was already there. As I entered, they called out, "Nothing to see here!" and "Don't worry, it's all under control!" Then one of the team walked by with a bucket. I had no idea what was going on, but their laughter was contagious. And there is nothing like laughing your head off with fellow Saint Annians while getting ready for church at 8 AM.

• When it was discovered quite last minute before a service last week that there was no bread for communion, a community member didn't hesitate for a second, but zipped out to the store. When she returned with bread a few minutes before the service started, the story of how she actual secured the bread seemed divinely inspired.
  

• When the dishwashers were full following our beloved Hadley's funeral last week, still-to-be-cleaned dishes were left in the sink, with the intention by the luncheon team leader to return the next day and finish up. Upon returning to church the next day, the team leader found the dishes had been done by a mystery dish washer.
  

• For the last few weeks, I've noticed that the rainbow hearts on our front lawn near the highway have been falling down. I've been thinking I should fix them, but hadn't actually done anything about it yet. Today when I got to church I noticed the hearts are all lined up again. Thank you heart-fixer, whoever you are!

These are just a few of the beautiful things that have unfolded in the last week. The Saint Anne's community is incredibly special and even though we havea whole weekbefore Thanksgiving, I see no reason to wait to say how thankful I am for our expression of the Body of Christ in the world.

My prayer for you this week is that you feel the love of the community that surrounds you. To find laughter in the mess, and divine timing at the grocery store. To remember that you are never alone and angels walk among us.