On my way...

I write from the airspace between Boise and Denver.  As I look down at all the snow I thank you, dear friends, for suggesting that I fly instead of drive my little Honda Fit over these passes.  I am safe and snug in this high flying bus enjoying the snow from afar.

Thank you for an unforgettable decade of ministry.  You have taught me so much - and I leave you a far wiser pastor than when I arrived.  I hope you learned a few things with me, too.  Watching your transformation has been a joy.  I leave here confident that you are in a solid place to undertake your search, and I trust that God is preparing the next pastor to come and journey with you - just as God slowly prepared me to leave you to journey with the good people of Bethany.

Let love be your guide - keep letting your light shine - and don’t lose sight of who you are and why you are here.  Be compassionate and kind - the world really needs that right now.  May God bless you and keep you always.

Know that I love you and release you to the care of a God who loves you to infinity and back.  You are in good hands.

And with this I conclude this blog.  Blessings, dear ones, on your journey.

Traveling mercies and love,
Kim

Getting Ready

Only one more sleep until Advent begins (for French and Celtic Christians - three cheers for gifting me with fifteen more days of my favorite season).  I have one beloved Advent devotional that begins on November 15th and it is right here beside me.  I smile as I hold it in my hands - it’s almost time.

I wasn’t going to order my special Advent candles this year due to all the upheaval associated with getting ready for this journey, but I changed my mind.  Now more than ever, I need the light and warmth those beeswax candles provide.  And in the midst of change I need the anchor of tradition - now is not the time to throw everything that grounds me overboard!

Things went fairly smoothly in October as my preparation to leave became visible.  November has been another story.  Things that were meant to proceed without a hitch or hiccup have become chaotic and complicated.  Those two words and the experiences they evoke do not settle well in my psyche.  Goodbyes are hard enough without complications.

But here I am, chaos and complications and all, trying to find my way through this experience.  It is like thinking you are getting on the Thomas the Train ride that goes around the children’s section of the amusement park and discovering that the Viper Roller Coaster was disguised as that sweet, tame train.  The next thing you know you are upside-down in the corkscrew and you might just be the one screaming like you did when you were seven and saw a great big spider.

I guess I should be thankful that I’m not on the great big spider ride.  It can also be disguised as Thomas the Tank Engine.

As things get more chaotic that quiet voice within reminds me to slow it down...double down on self care...and trust that, in time, all will be well (whatever “well” looks like).  So with a house to pack, a house to sell, a house to buy, a road trip to plan, and beloved friends, colleagues and congregation to say goodbye to - not to mention all that happens in November-December - I’m slowing things down.  Time to embrace my inner turtle.

In the Godly play classroom we help the children to get ready before we engage the story.  And that involves slowing down, settling in and being awake and aware.  That is exactly what is needed right now.

One more sleep until Advent begins and forty-six more sleeps until I leave Boise.  It’s time to get ready...

With love,
Kim

The “A” Word

When my son was young and we were preparing for a major life change (new job, move etc) I would tell him it was time for an adventure.  We’d do our research,  make plans and dive headlong into the transition.  We had many adventures when he was young (for such is the nature of the early years of pastoral ministry).  By the time he was a teen his perspective began to shift and he referred to adventures as the “a” word.  Change was no longer just fun.  Now it also involved loss and uncertainty - change was complex.  Once he became a young adult the more challenging “adventures” became AFGEs (where A stands for another, G stands for growth, E stands for experience and you can guess what F stands for).

Transitions and change are complex experiences - joy and sorrow, fear and hope all co-mingled into a brew that is sometimes sweet and at other times bitter and often served with tears.

After I long time of reflection and discernment, I accepted a call to another church community 2040 miles from here and let my current church know that it was time for me to leave.  Now we all have started an adventure.  And it is complex.  Since the make up of my heart allows me to cry easily and often, it has been hard to stay hydrated this past week as I began saying goodbye to people I love and a community that, for a decade, has been my home.  Although there is much about Idaho that has been challenging (fire season, political discourse, “Buy a truck and get a Gun” and open carry of firearms comes readily to mind) it has been home.    I know where to get excellent Mexican food or the best Holy Kale Juice or to see a sky full of stars.  Or where to go to share a cup of tea with a dear friend.  I know to not try to get on the Connector going east at 8 am and to avoid Eagle Rd at almost any time of the day.  And I know that I love this congregation and that the congregation loves me and is feeling all the complex emotions I am feeling.

I have no doubt that this is the right decision for me, for the congregation I am joining in January and for the one I will leave in December.  As hard as change can be, I feel this change right down to my bones.  Now is the time.  And since I don’t think God play favorites, I trust that if this is best for me and best for the calling congregation in Ohio, it will also be best for the congregation in Boise.

But even with that inner certainty, I still feel the fear.  The stress.  The anxiety.  The loss.  And the guilt.  Those lenses give me a potent view of my world - and it isn’t pretty.  When I am looking through fear, stress, anxiety, loss and guilt the world becomes a very dark place.  An unwelcoming place.  A scary place.  An unsafe place.  And impending disasters lurk around every corner!  The glass becomes half empty and the liquid in it is poison.  I become vigilant - looking for the problem that is waiting to leap out at me and catch me unaware.

Last night I was gripped but just such a moment.  Overwhelmed by the enormity of saying goodbye, selling a house, buying a house, moving across country and then saying hello - I sat on the edge of my bed in a very dark place - seeing menacing shadows around every corner.  It was as if Halloween came early - and it was all tricks and no treats!

And then - when I least expected it - God gently cracked my heart open, and I saw something besides the menacing shadows.  I saw all the people who were loving me through this transition.  Each person who was giving of their love and kindness to gentle me through.  People who were strangers a week ago working hard to secure a home for me in Ohio while others work here to sell the home I have.  Friends and colleagues, congregants and consultants - all giving me their very best love and support.  And in that moment - when I least expected it - I was flooded with gratitude for God’s unfailing love and support that was shown to me through so many people - God with skin on...

...or perhaps known by another “A” word - angels.

I rest safe and secure in the arms of the angels - and know that, no matter how complex and challenging this transition might be, these earthly angels will see me and each other through the changes.  And all will be well.

With love and deep gratitude,
Kim

A New Season

Each morning I sit at my kitchen table and gaze out the window toward the massive trumpet vine that has overtaken the fence - and wonder if the hummingbirds are still here ... and they are! I smile as I see them darting amongst the blossoms - soon they will head south to places I’ve only seen on PBS specials.  I love to watch them fly.  And in that moment this morning as I watched them outside my window, I decided that the season of my grounding had come to an end - it was time for me to stretch my wings again and fly.

Deciding to do a thing and actually doing it are very different propositions.  It took me the better part of the day to summon the courage to take flight.

First I had to find my shoes.

I use a hard-soled slipper when flying - the old-style jazz dance shoe is ideal but not easy to find.  A ballet slipper will do in a pinch if the sole is stiff enough.  Once the needed shoes were located, I headed into the hanger - also known as my studio.  I have been grounded for the better part of five years - absent from my beloved studio.  As I think back to those “why” and “what for” kind of questions I have a few ideas of how my wings got clipped.  But sometimes the reasons no longer matter - it was time to fly again.  Now.

I walked past my old friend Macomber and the Scottish double weave travel blanket woven in the style of the old Aberdeen Granholm Mills - this was not the place to start, as it requires concentration and equal amounts of skill and luck.  I also walked past the Gobelin that has been waiting for the Advent Tapestry to take shape.  Not today.

Instead I sat down at my beloved counterbalance loom - simple in construction with back hinged treadles that help my creaky joints.  I fought hard for that modification back in the day...now it is a standard option on the new looms.  But this old friend was the first of its kind - and it serves me well.

As soon as I sat on the bench I was surrounded by old friends.  Myra reminded me to relax:  “Don’t put your stress into your weaving.  Breathe.”  Virginia wondered why I wasn’t hemstitching the beginning of the blanket (she wanted everything hemstitched - even if it would have a traditional hem).  Norman reminded me to use a stretcher and “beat on a closed shed.”  Since he is the master (especially when it comes to Scottish Wedding Blankets) I always defer to his judgment.  And Turid was quick to remind me not to advance the warp and move the stretcher at the same time - she was afraid that I had forgotten her sound advice during these years off the bench.  How wonderful to be joined by these dear mentors who always have a place in my studio.

I picked up my shuttle - the one that fits so nicely in my hand - looked at the note I had left to myself five years prior (everything I needed to know about this project including that the beat I needed was somewhere between a light thud and a thwack) - and I was away!  With each throw of the shuttle I gained altitude until I was flying again - almost like I had never stopped.  I’m much slower than I was the last time I slipped the bonds of earth in my studio, but that is okay - it isn’t a race.  It is instead this unique combination of dance and flight - with each throw of the shuttle I climb higher and higher until I catch a thermal and soar -

- it is such a satisfying feeling.  A feeling of completeness.  A feeling of peace.  A feeling like in that moment I am doing exactly what I am meant to be doing - fully present and focused.  Bliss.

I’ve tried to understand why I have this experience sitting at the loom, but that is another of those “why” and “what for” questions that remains unanswered (perhaps for the best).  But I do know this - my time of being grounded has passed.  Will I go back to spending at least an hour a day at the loom?  I don’t know.  But I promised Nilus that I’d be back tomorrow.  And I always try to keep my word.

We must all do what we are created to do!

With tired arms and a joyful heart,

Kim

Found by a Quiet Moment

I've been sitting outside for the past half-hour breathing in cool, clean air.

Bliss.

No respirator mask in sight - just the freedom to be outdoors again.  This fire season has been unrelenting.  And then yesterday the winds changed direction...a small front came through...and the reds and oranges of the DEQ measuring system gave ways to yellows and sweet green - clean air.  It is probably too early to call an end to fire season.  But this oasis has been delightful.

Learning to savor these moments in the journey is a growing edge for me.  Back in the day, I remember a mentor telling me to savor those quiet moments in ministry and life and resist the temptation to fill them with things to do.  "Cherish those quiet moments - they will soon be replaced with the chaos of parish life.  But if you stop and savor them when they find you, you will be better able to walk through the chaos.  Whatever you do, don't chase them away with busyness!"  My ever-vigilant inner manager quickly responded that the best thing to do in those quiet moments was to catch up with unfinished tasks!

I have spent decades chasing quiet moments away with busyness.  But slowly, ever so slowly, I'm learning how to let them find me.

Fr. William McNamara often wrote about the need for holy leisure - doing absolutely nothing with God.  I remember thinking his advice bordered on malpractice!  And now...

...now I'm learning to sit out on the deck and be ever-so-quiet so the quail will parade past me with their young and the hummingbirds will come to the planters on the deck and all the little birds in the big spruce tree will sing with abandon while I take deep breaths of clean air and offer thanks for the oasis of God's creation that is now.

Tomorrow will likely be a busy day.  And the smoke may return.  Best to cherish this moment while it is here.

Resting at the oasis,
Kim

Better than the Smell of Bacon

I awoke this morning to the smell of incense, not bacon.  It filtered into my room like a sweet prayer.  I am staying at the Antiochian Conference and Retreat Center in Bolivar (or Fairfield or Ligonier - depending on who you ask) in Western Pennsylvania.  I arrived Wednesday afternoon and settled into my basic but comfortable room with a gorgeous view of the hills and the warmth of hospitality that makes one feel instantly at home. A small staff sees to the enormity of the operation that includes everything one would expect in a large Conference Center as well as a well appointed book store and a theological library that left me a little weak in the knees.  And then I saw the chapel - it took my breath away.  The iconography is stunning and the setting is peaceful.  It is a perfect place for writing, rest and renewal.  I will come here again.

It was my first time worshipping with Antiochian Orthodox Christians, and because there was a doctoral program in residence for the week, the priests and deacons in the program led chapel morning and evening (Orthros and Vespers).  As Antiochians trace their origins to the original church of Antioch (“the ancient faith”), their chant has a distinctive Middle Eastern flavor (very different from the Russian Orthodox chant of which I am better acquainted even though many of the texts are the same).  It has a haunting and ethereal quality to it, made even more poignant when one contemplates the reality in Syria and Lebanon.  They are a people who have known great suffering.  And yet they sing to God.

My theological orientation is not orthodox - or else I would not be a Protestant minister.  But I have a great resonance for the symbolism, liturgy and their ability to respect the “greater-than-ness” of God. The God they worship does not fit comfortably within anyone’s hip pocket.  This God is mysterious, wild, and “more than” - a cosmic God enthroned in the universe.  Each time I worship with them or pray in their chapel I am reminded of my place in the universe - it is humbling but a very good corrective.  They remind me that I am a beloved child of God created in the very image of God - but I am not God.  And it is not my place to assume God’s role - I can let God be God and just be about the business of being the most authentic me I can be.

Candles and incense - images of the prayers we offer to God and symbols of how we are meant to live in the world.  We are called to be living candles and incense - offering life and hope as we serve in love and fill the world with sweet justice and hope.

And that definitely smells better than bacon!

Easter Monday Musings

I love Easter Monday.  I set no alarm and leave the day blank in my calendar.  No agenda.  Any tasks undertaken evolve organically - no planning allowed!  So the brief freak snowstorm invited me to make some soup and putter a bit in the kitchen, having previously puttered a bit upstairs moving furniture into a new configuration.  

Easter often leaves me feeling like it is time for something new.

This year the daily readings for Lent and Holy Week were stunningly applicable as they both challenged and comforted me from day one.  Surprisingly, one reading has remained with me from the very beginning of Lent - continuing to slip into my awareness for what seems like no apparent reason.  Often it stays just out of my line of sight - echoing deeply within my heart - I know it is there even when I am not actively pondering it.  Perhaps it brings the wisdom of the next lesson... 

Because I prefer Advent to Lent, I set the bar low in terms of expectations and keep my focus on all the pastoral/liturgical tasks of the season (of which there are many). Despite my low expectations, I soon found myself on an unexpected journey of deepening awareness, compassion and growth.  Will it lead to further transformation?  

Abbot John Klassen's meditation today raises these kinds of Easter Monday questions when he writes:  

Our belief in the possibility of genuine human transformation is rooted in the resurrection of Christ.  This change is not superficial, like a new 'do or shirt.  It is deep change, coming from the inside out, energized and guided by the resurrection of Christ.  So some questions:  What do I want to do that is totally new for me because Christ is Risen and I share in that resurrection?  What do we as a community want to do that is totally new because Christ is risen and we share in that resurrection?

I want the newness that emerges in my life this Eastertide to be more than a reshuffle of furniture or a new batch of soup.  I want it to reflect a deepening of my relationship with the One who is Love so that my transformation into my true self continues - much like the children and I discussed on Sunday regarding the nymph and the dragonfly. One can serve most fully and deeply when serving through the true self rooted in Love.

I wonder what newness will emerge in me this Eastertide?  I wonder what newness will emerge for my church community?

Savoring the bliss of Easter Monday,

Kim

Happy Lenten Valentine's Day - or - Resisting Lenten Tourism

Those who know me well know that I'm more of an Advent gal than a Lenten lassie.  But Lent has been tugging at my heart these past few weeks in most unexpected ways.   I have no idea what will come from this shift but know that this journey into the desert of Lent will be different this year...and that I am meant to travel light...and that it begins on Valentine's Day (which feels like an odd day on which to begin Lent).

One story and two quotes helped to frame my preparation for Lent.  The story came from my son, who works (periodically) as a substitute church organist.  He worked for churches as an organist/choir director long before he could drive a car - thus we share 20+ years of his church stories coupled with the 35+ years of my own experiences in ministry.  So when he starts a conversation with either you're not going to believe this or wait until you hear about this morning, he gets my full attention.

He was called at the last minute to substitute at a church because the organist/choir director had the flu.  They indicated that he would rehearse/direct both the bell and chancel choirs, as well as provide music for worship.  They offered him a stipend for that work - which he accepted.  He went, rehearsed/directed, played for worship, and had an enjoyable time.  When it was time to leave the minister came over and said something like this:  I know we agreed a fee for your services this morning, but you did far more than I think is fair for the fee we agreed.  So if it is okay with you, I'd like to keep this check and have the treasurer issue a check more in keeping with what you did this morning.  I will send it to you this week.  My son initially declined and said that he was fine with the amount they had agreed to.  But the minister persisted in doing what he thought was just.

I said what?   My son said, I know.  Isn't that incredible?  With our combined experience of 55+ years, neither one of us had encountered an experience like that.  It did feel incredible.

But wait - the minister's response should not be incredible - or exceptional.  It should be exactly how we respond to life - hands open and from a place of generosity and appreciation, not a place of fear and scarcity.  I found myself thinking:  The next time I am in the 'burgh, I want to attend that church - I'll bet it is a dynamic, thriving community.

And then the first Lenten invitation settled in:  I want to be like that minister.  I want to approach my life and ministry from an opened-handed place of generosity and appreciation - a place of seeing and knowing and responding - a place that is fair and just.  A place rooted in love.  I want the Lenten journey to transform me instead of having it provide a place for me to be a Lenten tourist!

The second invitation came as I read my daily devotional on Monday (with a shout out to Give Us This Day) and encountered the story of Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection in Robert Ellsberg's column  called Blessed Among Us.  Ellsberg says that Brother Lawrence accomplished no great deeds as he spent forty years of his life working in the monastery kitchen as a Carmelite Lay Brother (1611-1691).  But his wisdom about the spiritual life so impressed a Church official who was visiting the monastery that the visitor recorded their conversations and letters, publishing them as The Practice of the Presence of God - a book that is a spiritual classic. 

Brother Lawrence believed that it was possible to cultivate (at all times) a consciousness of the presence of God - and thus be in a constant state of prayer or conversation with God.  He up-ended expectations about the spiritual life and provided a new lens through which people could view their relationship with God.

Our sanctification did not depend upon changing our works, but in doing for God's sake that which we commonly do for our own self.

He achieved this intimacy with God while working in the kitchen on the most mundane tasks of life - washing and chopping, cooking and cleaning.  And in the midst of it doing chores he found heaven!

The Lenten journey is one of conversion - of changing direction (sometimes a slight mid-course correction, but other times a radical change) - of focusing on the essence of what truly matters.  And as a corrective to culture and the expectations of society, dear Brother Lawrence gives us a new way to measure our success:

God regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.

I do not know where this invitation will take me as I open my hands to release fear and embrace love, but if Brother Lawrence's experience is any example, heaven awaits right here on earth!  The realm of God breaking open in our midst - may it help to break open my heart and fill it with love and trust that can overflow into the surrounding world.

What invitation is tugging at your heart at this beginning of Lent?

With love and blessings on this Valentine's Day - the perfect day for Lent to begin,

Kim

Advent Light

Light that finds me always, come find me now - the night is so dark.

- Prayer chant recorded by Stephen Iverson

They say that the light shines brightest in the deepest darkness.  If that is true, then this Advent provides the perfect climate for light spotting.  The news is so dark...

...and yet it is Advent - my favorite time of year.  I begin preparing for this paradoxical season of exuberant joy and silent stillness - biting cold and radiating warmth - of deep darkness and brilliant light - early in November.  First I place my annual order for Advent and pillar candles from Honey Candles in BC - an amazing boutique candle maker that creates bee-friendly all-beeswax candles with a warmth and clarity of light that takes my breath away. (A grateful shout out to Pat who makes sure the candles arrive in time - even if my order is placed in stages as it was this year).  Getting the candles ready for the First Sunday of Advent is pure joy, as is lighting that first candle and chanting O Come, O Come Emmanuel - an annual ritual that I have repeated for almost fifty years.

We become what we do again and again.

I use a pillar in my home office to remind those who come for spiritual guidance of the unseen One who is ultimately our Companion and Guide.  I try to start each Advent with a new pillar - new season, new candle, new beginning - nice symbol.   This year as I prepared the room for Advent I decided to light the old and worn pillar one last time before putting what was left of it in the box of candle scraps to go to the Monastery for their candle-making ministry.  Although distracted with many tasks, I felt that quiet inner prompting that is like a gentle hand on my shoulder drawing my attention back to the candle.  I sat down and looked - really looked.

It was so beautiful.  Despite being old and worn, the quality of light was incredible.  I sat soaking in the light and allowed awe to envelop me.  Such a profound moment emerged from an old and worn candle!  

Many lessons could be drawn from this experience.  I smiled and felt the warmth of hope.

Yes - the news is dark and some days reads like apocalyptic fiction.  And for many so much is uncertain.  There is great suffering both today and anticipated for many in the future.  And yet in the midst of this darkness the light shines.  

God promises us that the light is here - it shines in the darkness and is not overcome. Our Advent tasks start with being light-spotters - to look with expectant longing for every flicker of light's flame.  

Where did you spot the light today?  Where were you warmed by its flame?  Yesterday was the Christmas Pageant and the light shining from the children was incredible (including all the little sheep who quickly discovered that a circular sanctuary with many aisles creates handy sheep escape routes).  Bright light - pure joy.

Once we are reassured and refreshed by this light, then we can undertake Advent's second task of being light bearers in our dark world.

Remember, kind actions - more than anything else - cause the soul

to shine with brilliance.

- Gertrude the Great

This year I chose a Christmas card designed by Mary Southard, CSJ (Ministry of the Arts) called Visitation as my prayer companion for Advent.  The image of three women enveloped in the light who then, with others, become the light lifts my soul on these dark, cold days.  The words within the card proclaim our Advent Mission:

May we be a people of light bringing peace and love to all the world.

Stop.  Look.  See.  Be what you see.  

Shine!

Advent blessings,

Kim                                                                               

Compassion Enlarged

The scenes from the disaster in Texas and the Gulf Coast are horrific.  It is difficult to fathom the scale of the disaster.  The media, skilled at bringing us the human story, provides us with names and faces and images that haunt us. And where no images are available, skilled wordsmiths paint verbal pictures that leave us overwhelmed and heartsick - like the toddler in the flood waters who clung to the body of her dead mother until she was rescued.

We watch.  We cry.  We feel sick.  We want to help.  We reach out and make a donation of whatever we can knowing that these people are family - we want to help.  

Those with sensitive hearts are wise to minimize exposure to the news - it can be overwhelming.  But we must be careful not to shield our hearts from the pain in the world.  Our hearts are meant to crack wide open in moments like this.  That's what causes them to enlarge so they can hold more compassion...which is desperately needed...because Texas is not the only place of brokenness in our world.  

Our hearts need to enlarge so that along with compassion for the suffering along the Gulf Coast we can find compassion and presence for the 16 million people impacted by the devastating floods across South Asia.  16 million people.  More than 1,200 people have been killed in these floods - 500 in the Indian State of Bihar alone.  Tens of thousands are displaced.  But unlike our neighbors in Texas, there are no people telling their stories.  In fact, when I went on the BBC website to look for information about the floods in Asia, it was buried under stories of a cash crisis, doctors fighting in an operating room, the infamous India rapist guru, and reports of a TV show taken off the air in India because of the controversy surrounding its "unusual love story."  Finally I found the story Toddlers Killed in Mumbai Rains - and it linked me to more information about the incredible loss and devastation happening in that part of the world...to our neighbors...our human family.

The Sierra Leone mudslides and floods that killed hundreds within the past two weeks has fallen completely off the news cycle.  

Both NPR and the BBC carried cautionary stories today about how the world focuses on what is happening in Houston and forgets what happens in Asia and Africa.  There are fears expressed by international aid agencies that people will donate towards the victims whose stories we know (America) and forgot those whose stories are never told (the rest of the world).  There is a fear that our hearts are only so big - that compassion fatigue will set in and the most vulnerable will be forgotten.  Again.

As followers of Jesus we are meant to be broken-hearted.  Our hearts are meant to be cracked wide open - enlarged - healed (again and again and again and again) until they can contain compassion enough for the suffering of the world.  Because we live in privilege and have access to the names and tragic stories of the people (and pets) facing catastrophic loss in our neighborhood of America we must not limit the scope of our compassionate response to what we know and what is familiar.  As Christians we are global citizens - our neighborhood is bigger than America.  Disasters in Asia happen to our family.  Catastrophes in Africa impact our relatives.  Until we can see and respond as citizens of this amazing but ailing planet we will never - and I mean never - have the vision necessary to truly address the global systemic issues that impact all life on our planet.  

Warming oceans enhance the frequency and severity of these weather events.  We share the same oceans and planet - we are all in this together.

Natural disasters impact the poor the most.  Those with privilege have options the poor lack.  We see glimpses of this in Texas.  But when we look at this on a global scale, those who are poor in Texas have access to resources that flood victims in Bangladesh do not.  Our hearts need to be big enough for the suffering in Texas and in Bangladesh.  Our will needs to be fixed on changing the systemic inequities that keep the poor living in the most vulnerable places with the fewest resources.  I am a pet lover and was deeply relieved to see the Humane Society rescuing pets from flooded homes in Houston.  But if we have the will and ingenuity as a people to see that pets are rescued from the flood waters and taken to shelters (and that the animals already in those shelters are flown to other cities to make room for the animals displaced by the flood waters in Texas), we surely can have the will and creativity to see that people whose stories we will never know - who face hardships we cannot begin to fathom - have the resources they need to find safety and the necessities to live a life of dignity.

Please - open your heart to the suffering in Texas.  Do what you can to alleviate the suffering of our nearby neighbors on the Gulf Coast.  But when you make your donation to the UCC (Wind and Flood Disaster Harvey) or the Red Cross or Save the Children or the Humane Society, don't stop there.  Make a matching donation for the other flood victims whose stories we have not heard.  Give to the IFRC (International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies) or Doctors Without Borders or any of the UN Relief Agencies.  By doing this you are acknowledging through your actions what we believe in our hearts:  that our neighbors in Texas are beloved children of God -  as are our neighbors who are flood victims in India or Sierra Leone.  We may not have easy access to their stories, but that does not make them any less deserving of our compassionate response.

May our hearts shatter in the face of such tragedy.  May our healing tears water the pieces of our hearts and help them to mend enlarged and able to hold more compassion.  May we see this beloved world and all its inhabitants through God's eyes of love.  And may we act accordingly.

Heartbroken and hope-filled,

Kim

Unhooking From the Defibrillator

Is this really happening?  I find myself shocked by something I read, see or hear in the morning news, conclude that I am now permanently unshockable, only to re-shocked all over again - sometimes in the course of minutes!  It is like being hooked up to a defibrillator that fires randomly but repeatedly.  Is there such a thing as shock fatigue?  Never did I think I would see unmasked white men in self-styled militia uniforms carrying weapons, lit torches and Nazi flags as they marched through the streets of an American city chanting anti-Semitic verses as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do on a Friday night.  In America.  In 2017.  Unmasked - unafraid.  Emboldened by the atmosphere present in our nation.  Never did I expect to see that in my lifetime.  

But here we are - punch drunk by the pace, chaos and intensity of the events happening in our nation and world.  If pastoral merit badges were given for the tendency to over-think an issue, I would have too many badges to fit on my stole.  Not that thinking things through is bad - in fact, a little more thought and a little less talk/tweets would help several national and global crises.   But one place where over-thinking has no place is in our condemnation of racism, hate speech and violence.  

It is wrong for white men carrying torches and weapons to reprise the worst of white supremacist/nationalist/KKK behavior - protected under the guise of free speech.  Spewing racist  hate speech to provoke and intimidate others is no more free speech than is shouting Fire to create panic and casualties in a crowded theater.  Intent matters.

It is wrong for white citizens to turn away and think it is a "Southern" problem or "African American problem" when each of us benefits from institutional/systemic racism.  

It is wrong for citizens to minimize or ignore anti-Semitic hate speech.

It is wrong for us to "normalize" or "soften" racist rhetoric and hate speech by re-branding it as "alt-right" and seeing it a reasonable alternative within civil discourse.  

It is wrong for our leaders to use racist or hate speech themselves or to set up false equivalencies that weaken the stand they must take against racism and hate speech in all its forms.  I do not condone violence and hatred as a way to address violence and hatred.   But there is no moral equivalency between the KKK/White Supremacists reprising the worst of the intimidation tactics they historically used and the Antifa counter-protesters who engaged them.  Again, I do not support violence as a means to address violence and hatred - it is like using gasoline to put out a fire.  But the two entities are not the same.  The end-game of Neo-Nazi rhetoric is the genocide of whichever identified group is in their sights.  It cannot and must not go unchallenged.  It must not be normalized. It must be called out for what it is and not prettied up with verbal cosmetics.  Leaders who refuse to call it out forfeit the legitimacy of their leadership.  

I can't believe that, in 2017, I feel the need to write it is wrong for citizens to minimize or ignore anti-Semitic hate speech.  Or it is wrong for our leaders to use racist or hate speech themselves.  Isn't this a given?  Not any more.  

So how do we unhook from the defibrillator and engage in transformative action?  I have no simple answers, but can suggest some steps that I have found to be helpful:

1 & 5.  Name and confront racism, hate speech and violence in a nonviolent and hate-free way.  Work with your gifts and abilities in whatever way you can to eliminate these poisons from our society.  Otherwise, you participate in normalizing them.

The quickest way for these poisons to take root in society is for them to go unchallenged.  Without a quick response, their roots go deeper and they are harder to uproot.  This response must be strong, clear, and itself rooted in nonviolence that is free from hatred.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has produced a helpful publication called Ten Ways to Fight Hate which we have posted on the Boise First UCC website:

http://www.boisefirstucc.org/what-s-happening/ten-ways-to-fight-hate

2.  Educate - Educate - Educate

The only way we can address the racism and hate speech endemic in our country is to understand its roots and the ways in which it was created and is perpetuated - understanding the systems and structures that fuel not only racism, but also white supremacy.  Understanding the historical/cultural context in which both arise provides tools for intervention.

3.  Self/Community Reflection

From that place of contextual understanding we can then look at ourselves and our communities to see how we, intentionally or unintentionally, perpetuate racism and hatred.  For example, I am white and of European descent and come from a working-class family with parents who believed that their relative poverty was due to unfair advantages given to immigrants and peoples of color.  This was not true, but it was what they believed.  When I understand the context of how and why my parents saw the world this way, I can then take steps to address the biases I internalized as a child.

I do not want to be racist and work hard to not think and behave in racist ways.  But I was raised with biases and privilege that cause me to make micro-assessments that are filtered through bias and privilege.  Since this happens initially outside of my awareness, does that give me a Get Out of Racist Jail Free card?  Absolutely not!  I can not undo the biases programmed into my mind, but I can take responsibility for them and learn to spot them when they are active.  Education and awareness are critical for all white Americans so we can take responsibility for the ways in which we perpetuate racism.  And it is also a key for understanding what fuels white supremacy and the subtle ways it is legitimized.

We also need to do this reflection as Christians.  For example, I grew up being taught that Christians were God's chosen people and that only Christians would go to heaven - everyone else was destined for hell.  Christian exceptionalism has caused hatred and violence and emboldened our ancestors to launch Crusades, commit genocide and steal lands already occupied by others.  It fueled the American exceptionalism that haunts our nation today.  As Christians, we live with and benefit from that legacy while continuing to perpetuate it.

Our sacred scriptures include verses that support Christian exceptionalism as well as anti-Semitism, anti-Judaism, slavery, and the oppression of women, non Christians, the disabled and those who identify as LGBTQ.  The authors of the Gospels, written decades after Jesus lived in Palestine, cast him as antagonistic to Judaism and murdered by the Jewish people  - despite the fact that Jesus was an observant Jewish teacher who many historians believe sought to be a reforming prophetic presence within Judaism (not the creator of a new religion) - who was executed by the Romans. The Revised Common Lectionary omits the most offensive passages from Sunday worship (like telling slaves to be obedient to their masters and women to be obedient to men) but still includes frequent anti-Semitic references.  It should stop us in our tracks when we realize that what we often read aloud during worship we would NEVER say in public or polite conversation.  Will Christianity writ large ever address this hypocrisy?  Will we?

Ouch - that hits close to the bone.

Perhaps acknowledging the ways in which we participate in the behaviors we rightly condemn in others will help us to have compassion for those engaged in the cycle of hate and violence.

Compassion does not mean condoning - but it does lay the groundwork for possible conversation and engagement with those actively perpetuating racism and hate speech -  if that can be done in a safe setting.  A counter-protest is not the setting in which that can happen.

4.  Integration

Integrating our words and actions with our values is difficult work - but also holy work!   Having integrity does not mean being perfect or having all the answers.  It does, however mean being aware and willing to learn and grow - and aligning our words and actions with our values.

Having integrity in our witness is key.  Otherwise, we followers of Jesus are like the angry parent who slaps their son for hitting his brother while saying "don't you ever hit him again!" Or the person who screams at the top of their lungs "I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET!"  

A witness without integrity has no power.

1 & 5.  Name and confront racism, hate speech and violence in a nonviolent and hate-free way.  Work with your gifts and abilities in whatever way you can to eliminate these poisons from our society.  Otherwise, you participate in normalizing them.

The quickest way for these poisons to take root in society is for them to go unchallenged.  Without a quick response, their roots go deeper and they are harder to uproot.  This response must be strong, clear, and itself rooted in nonviolence that is free from hatred.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has produced a helpful publication called Ten Ways to Fight Hate which we have posted on the Boise First UCC website:

http://www.boisefirstucc.org/what-s-happening/ten-ways-to-fight-hate

*****

In the face of our current national climate, I totally understand the desire to dig a hole, crawl in and pull the hole in after you.  But I am also heartened by the courage I hear expressed by others - people who are finding their voices and speaking truth clearly and from a place of integrity.

May we feel the feelings - the anger/rage - the fear - the disgust - the disbelief - the sense of being overwhelmed - but not act from a place of verbal or physical violence or hatred.  May we let our strong feelings tell us how serious the situation is and how high the stakes are.  May we use that energy to educate and to integrate our beliefs and values with our words and actions as partners with God in the ministry of truth and transformation.

It is time to unhook from the defibrillator and get to work.

Pressing on with hope,

Kim 

We'll see - or - Equanimity as a Lenten Discipline

In my previous post I celebrated a successful operation, reboot and mused about what kind of Lenten journey this reboot might provide.  I was excited about the prospects of Lent based in joy and gratitude and had so many ideas about where this spiritual journey might take me.

None of those ideas included coming down with a post-operative infection!  It started two weeks ago Friday when I noticed I felt a bit "off."  Then the next day I felt very sleepy and even more "off" - something was not right.  Then on Sunday I could see what was wrong as my belly became angry red and began to swell.  Post-op infection.  

I was fortunate to have great medical care - the kind you can easily access when you have the privilege (in our society) of medical insurance.  But even with great care and some slow and steady improvement, small surgical interventions were necessary to get ahead of the infection.  I felt so sick the first week that my memories are a blur.  By week two I was feeling just a little bit better.  Since the surgical interventions the pace of progress has accelerated.  The wound-v.a.c. is helping the antibiotics to get ahead of the infection.  I can feel the difference.  Phew!

What impact did this have on my Lenten observance?   I haven't opened my beloved devotionals in two weeks.  Prayer time became very basic and a bit primal - no strength for the daily offices.  A major problem has a way of stripping down a situation to its essentials - no room for anything extraneous.  I have discovered that this is one of the gifts that problems bring us.  They also help us to prioritize what really matters and get back to our bottom line.

But to clarify:  I do not believe God brings problems into our lives in order to help us simplify and prioritize.  I do, however, believe that God works with the "stuff" of life in whatever form it takes.  And unlike the miller's daughter, God regularly spins straw into gold.

The infection left me with feelings of being helpless and out of control.  No matter what I did (or agreed to do) it didn't seem to be making things that much better.  I have grown accustomed to living in a world where often medical interventions make an immediate positive difference.  Hearing that something is going to take time brings me no comfort at all - especially when I do not feel well.  It was at this point that I accepted that Lent was also out of my control.  It would take whatever form it took.

And so it did - very quietly.  While having a procedure in the Interventional Radiology Department, I found myself trying not to focus on my pain.  Very quietly my heart reminded me of the practice of Tonglen - that wonderful Tibetan meditation/prayer form that teaches you to take your personal pain and use it as a way to identify with all those in the world experiencing pain right now.  You draw in their pain with your inbreath, and exhale peace and relief to all who are suffering.  This was a practice I always wanted to explore in greater depth - and here was the perfect classroom.  Tonglen in Interventional Radiology.  Tonglen in the Procedure Room at my surgeon's office.  Tonglen for Lent.  Paul Knitter would smile and understand.

Recently while watching some political satire I remembered the United Worship Service we shared with our Buddhist neighbors on the eve of the Presidential Election in 2016.  We talked much that night about equanimity - and I reflected on how this virtue has received scant attention in popular Christian literature.  The Apostle Paul touches on it briefly and Jesus appears to have lived it.  But it is not a Top Tier Virtue in the Progressive Christian Lexicon.  And yet here I was living deeply into this notion of equanimity.  Aside from taking my antibiotics and following my surgeon's advice, there was little else I could do to move this forward.  It would take as long as it takes and much of that was outside of my control.  Can I lean into equanimity with this infection?  With the circumstances of life?  With my ministry?  Can I explore the virtue of equanimity and see how it fits for a follower of Jesus?  Can I live that Buddhist story of the Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse with an open mind and heart and see where this all of this takes me?  

We'll see...   : )

Kim

The Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse (this version is taken from the website The Buddhaful Tao):

In this village, a little boy is given a gift of a horse. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful? What a wonderful gift.”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A couple years later the boy falls off the horse and breaks his leg. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that terrible? The horse is cursed! That’s horrible!”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A few years later the country goes to war and the government conscripts all the males into the army, but the boy’s leg is so screwed up, he doesn’t have to go. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful?”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

The Great Reboot

It is March 1st - I know this because since my operation a week ago Monday, I keep a note page for each day so I can track significant details.  March 1st is important because it is the anniversary of my beginning ministry with the church I currently serve.  That was back in 2009 - The First Sunday in Lent.  This year March 1st is the First Day of Lent - Ash Wednesday.

I have confessed in previous posts to leaning more toward Advent than Lent.  But this year I decided to give Lent my full attention - to see if I could be open to the spiritual lessons and growth for which this season is known.  Of course my equation did not include spending the first part of Lent recovering from surgery.

Surprise!

And yet here I am on Ash Wednesday - away from all the traditions and tasks that have brought such meaning to my soul in the past.  I love how the Sisters at St. Gertrude's taught me to fuse the reminder of mortality (Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return) with a reminder of the cosmos (From stardust you come, and to stardust you shall return).  Nice.  I will not be in church tonight fusing anything - another will lead worship.  

So instead of doing what I have done for decades, I spent Ash Wednesday outdoors.  I took myself for a gentle walk.  I watched hawks soar and neighborhood dogs protect their property (the two black labs barking frantically at their fence calmed right down when they were told that they were "such good puppies" for protecting their back yard).  I talked with several pets and smiled at a dozen strangers (all smiled back).  I have lived here since 2009 and have never walked in my neighborhood.  And when you take your time, there is much to see!

The sun felt so warm, reminding me that the origin of the word Lent is the word spring.  It has been a cold and dark winter for so long...but spring always returns.  Always.

My winter began in the summer of 2014.  In the midst of a perfect storm of circumstances I required emergency surgery.  It did not go well - either because the surgeon was minimally competent but  having a very bad day, or less charitable reasons that I prefer not to explore.  The aftermath was a quality of life that rated negative numbers on a ten point scale.  I have been working with an extremely competent surgeon since June of last year, taking steps to be as healthy as possible in order to get this mess fixed.  We had planned on doing the surgery possibly as early as Summer of '17.  But circumstances changed dramatically and she decided the time for intervention was NOW.

I went into the procedure terrified, using my experience from 2014 as the template for my expectations.  After scaring myself silly, I decided that the only thing I had control over was the lens through which I viewed this experience - and the fear lens was not getting me anywhere good.  Instead, I picked up the grace lens and took a deep breath.

My fears did not totally subside, but I was able to relax and notice the web of love that was holding me.  My team of doctors did an amazing job - fixing the unintended consequences of the previous surgery and giving me back my life.  Today, a short ten days after surgery, I feel better than I have felt in years:  Me 2.0

I plan to keep the grace lens in place for Lent - leaning into some of the spiritual disciplines that have always sustained me while actively looking through the lens of grace as I go through my day - and being open to the new that will emerge.  I suspect that this Lenten journey will be very different from any previous one:  Lent 2.0

I shared my vision of Me 2.0 with a dear colleague who had a very clever response:  Runs much smoother.  Fewer glitches and security breaches.  Additional power and memory capacity.  It will fly off the shelf!

...and if that is an accurate description of my reboot, I can't wait to see what Lent 2.0 is like!

With love, gratitude and grace for the journey,

Kim

Trials

The word itself sounds foreboding.  It does not evoke images of sunshine and bunny rabbits.  Instead, it conjures up unpleasant ideas of an adversarial courtroom drama or some specific set of circumstances that one finds to be - well, trying.

Trials are certainly not the subject of Epiphany - the day we would have celebrated at church yesterday had it not been for continued extreme weather.  So no choruses of We Three Kings and presentation of our gifts for the people of Honduras (two members of our community are leaving on Thursday for a medical mission to the poorest of the poor in Honduras and we planned on bringing specific needed items to offer as gifts - like the Magi - so they could take them on their mission trip).

No church - no chance to share our gifts (right now) - no leaving the house.  Sigh.

I have a bench near the big picture window in my breakfast nook - it is a cozy place for me to sit and read whilst looking out at the beauty of creation.  I often pray there.  Late Sunday morning I found my way to the bench (with devotionals in hand) to have a time of reading and prayer and gazing at the beauty of creation.  I watched the heavy snow - then rain - then sleet - then more snow - then torrential rain falling outside of my window.  For an area that sees little precipitation, we were certainly cracking any remaining records!

I was moved by the Epiphany reflection offered by Richard Gaillardtz (a professor at Boston College)  entitled The Great Manifestation (which is what the word Epiphany means).  He writes:

The feasts of Nativity (Christmas) and Epiphany are bound together.  Christmas invites our contemplation of the mystery of the Incarnation:  God became human in Jesus of Nazareth.  With the feast of Epiphany the camera view widens to take in a range of human responses to the Incarnation.  Perhaps these epiphanies led the wise men, the witnesses to Jesus' baptism, and the wedding guests at Cana to recognize that they need not escape the world to find God; God had come to them.  If Christmas celebrates the Incarnation, Epiphany calls forth the spiritual habits of recognition.  Do we have the spiritual vision to identify the humble and unexpected epiphanies occurring daily in our own lives?  Are we as driven as the wise men to seek out the presence of God in the embrace of our spouse or child, in the face of an annoying coworker, in the panhandler on the street corner?

What a great call to us for this Season of Epiphany - to seek out the presence of God who is always in our midst!  It is easy to experience God in those sunshine and bunny rabbit moments - with butterflies and rainbows rounding out the picture.  But what about seeking God in the harder places (like the annoying coworker or the challenging circumstances that sweep into our lives like a whirlwind - unbidden and unwelcome).  Can we seek God in the ordinary stuff of life - good or bad?  Is God always present - and when we are unaware of God's presence is that due to God's absence or our lack of perception?

After my prayer time I continued to ponder these ideas as I worked on some paperwork...until I heard the first loud drip...followed by another...until the drips quickly joined together to resemble a mini Niagara Falls coming from the ceiling above me (and above my computer)!  By the time I moved furniture and found my bucket, the one leak had grown into three main leaks - one of which was pouring through my overhead light.  Water was coming in everywhere!

Now I don't know about you, but I am a one bucket household.  The race was now on to find large enough bucket substitutes that I could lift and empty.  The next few hours were a blur as the rain kept falling inside and outside my house.  I was wet - cold (the heating was working just fine but I felt frozen) - and frustrated.  Having just put a new roof on the house last year, this was not in the plan!

There were moments of tears as well as moments of using my expanded vocabulary - the one I reserve for moments when I am only overheard by family or close friends.  To say I was feeling discouraged was an understatement.

Then I remembered the reading from earlier today - what would it be like to seek God even in the challenging circumstances of life?  This certainly was challenging - what if I changed my focus from my frustration to looking for God?

I would like to tell you that as I had this epiphany the heavens immediately closed the doors to the firmament and thus stopped the rain from falling - or that I heard the faint chorus of angels as the water stopped pouring from my ceiling.  Or (even better) - a legion of brooms and buckets appear a la the Sorcerer's Apprentice, but the water they fetch is inside my house and they carry it outside to be dumped down the storm drain (I can get quite imaginative when wet, cold and frustrated).  But of course none of those things happened.

What did happen is that my attitude changed - my stress level dropped - my sense of humor returned - as did my perspective.  The water was still coming in - but I was in a better place to deal with it.  By focusing on where God was present now I found myself supported - upheld - and just a little bit peaceful.  And God was present - just not how I expected...or wanted (with dancing brooms carrying buckets).

It is impossible to escape trying situations - trials come to us all and sometimes they require multiple buckets!  Often they come without invitation or explanation and are completely outside of our control.  Sometimes they are the direct results (or unintended consequences) of our decisions.  But whatever brings these trials into our lives, we can use them as opportunities to practice the spiritual disciplines that transform our hearts and world.  And that brings us to another definition of the word trial: To test something to assess its suitability or performance.  Trials give us a chance to test the values and behaviors we say we believe in.  We can then assess what is working or what needs to be discarded or rethought - or what just needs more practice.

Thoughts from a one bucket gal living through a three bucket situation -
Kim

Traveling to Bethlehem

I have fond holiday memories of helping my Grandmother set up her mother's creche (nativity set) on her mother's sewing cabinet.  Although Great Grandma's creche was lost in the confusion of Grandma's final years of life,  I can still set up my beloved creche on her mother's sewing cabinet - an old family tradition continued.

I remember being at Grandma's house and having to get up on a chair in order to set each piece where it was meant to go.  I loved hearing the story of that first night in Bethlehem and the birth of baby Jesus.  In my imagination I would ponder what it might be like to be present for that first Christmas night.  As a teen I longed to travel to the actual city of Bethlehem and pray at the spot where Jesus was born.  That dream was abandoned many years ago but the longing to go to Bethlehem revisits me each year as Christmas approaches.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was spending the end of Advent and Christmas Eve in Bethlehem!

I first noticed my relocation on the Tuesday before Christmas.  I was visiting with a beloved member of this congregation when suddenly a choir of angels began to sing - filling that cold winter's day with warmth and love (and tears)!  I immediately recognized Bethlehem in their songs of love.  Then I thought back to the recent weeks and saw Mary and Joseph in the loving parents and grandparents who were nurturing our young ones - and in the little ones I saw the Christ child so clearly!  So many kind people step up to be helpful before Christmas - shepherds one and all!  On Christmas Eve the Magi visited us in the form of Jewish and Muslim neighbors who assisted in our nursery so our youngest ones were cared for on Christmas Eve.  As the electric lights dimmed and candlelight spread throughout the darkened church, I knew I was standing on sacred ground - the holy place where Christ was born...

...because Christ is born anew in each tender act of love and mercy.  And when we participate in them or witness them - we are in Bethlehem!  

I do not believe that traveling to Bethlehem need be limited to the time surrounding Christmas.  I have a hunch - and a hope - that each act of love and mercy will take us there.  Even now I feel the cold of the night warmed by the breath of the animals while a wee baby sleeps in their feed trough.  A bright star lights up the night sky - may we navigate by its light as we become God's peacemakers in this crazy and wonderful world.  And may we heed the voices of the angels who tell us to be not afraid!  

Let's go share some good tidings of great joy - God is with us - each and all of us!

A very Merry Christmas and Blessed New Year,

Kim

Advent Longings...Advent Peace

The hawk returned this Advent to hunt the birds that feed and shelter in my backyard.  She is a year older - no longer the awkward 'tween of last year who still hadn't mastered her landings.  The first telltale sign of her presence was a pile of quail feathers by the deck (now covered in snow).  Snow covers everything in my backyard today - it will be a white Christmas for sure.  White snow covering the feathers...white sky all the way to the horizon...white snow falling from the sky.  It is a peaceful scene - yet there she sits on a tree branch as still as can be - waiting for the smallest flap of a wing to show her the way to her next meal.  Death and beauty sitting outside my window - together.

This is a complicated world.  She is so beautiful.  As are the birds she hunts.  I root for the quail and the mourning doves and the little spurdies she feasts on.  And yet I confess that she has a place in my heart, too.  Those beautiful words from Isaiah that speak of the peaceable kingdom express my longings this Advent - O that the hawk and the quail would graze on seed together...O that those who are sharply divided in our nation would come together on common ground and throw a party where people laugh and tell stories and forget that they are enemies.  O that the never-ending-ever-evolving-always-present mess in the geopolitical area surrounding the cave where animals sheltered the newborn Jesus would know peace.  O that the families facing heartbreaking circumstances would experience healing and joy. O...O...O...

...O how I long for the peaceable kingdom!

This Advent has been an interesting journey - a departure, in so many ways, from my decades old routine.  I began Advent "early" on November 15th, choosing to be French - or Celtic - or Orthodox in my observance of a forty day period before Christmas.  Part of that choice was for self preservation - 2016 has been wickedly difficult in so many ways!!!!!  Since Advent is my favorite season, more seemed better.  I even hauled out the boxes of Christmas decorations thinking I would decorate early this year.  I dusted off my Advent devotionals and purchased a few new ones to try.  During the week of Thanksgiving I got my Advent wreath out and placed new pure beeswax candles in it - just so I was ready on the Eve of the 1st Sunday of Advent.  Normally I take my advent devotionals and put them near the wreath, using my devotional time each day to read them by the light of the purple and pink candles.  But this was no normal Advent - and more was not better.  Much to my surprise, more quickly became less as I followed that quiet inner prompting.  The decorations are still in their boxes (they may come out today).  The academic books I was reading got put away and the devotionals replaced them.  And the devotionals were read slowly - they were savored - read not like academic works, but like one reads the the sky - or the face of a dear friend.  And they were not read at the Advent wreath.

As for my time each day at the Advent wreath - that changed completely.  No longer distracted by reading devotionals, I instead lit the requisite candle(s) and then just sat in God's presence.  To keep myself honest I used my hour glass to set the time (actually it is a fifteen-minute-glass).  The first few days I was fidgety and my mind raced at breakneck pace.  But slowly my monkey mind and tense body began to relax and welcome this time with God.  No agenda - no list of petitions - no inspirational reading to keep me comfortably distracted - just candlelight and silence and the desire to be in God's presence.

I would like to tell you that because of these new practices circumstances magically changed and the world around me became the longed for peaceable kingdom...that the people I loved were miraculously healed and that suffering was ended.   But you know that isn't true.  Circumstances on December 23rd for citizens of this country and global village are as scary as they were when Advent began.  And dear loved ones still struggle with circumstances that would break mere mortals.  And yet...

...and yet I feel a peace deep within me that defies explanation.  Clearly this peace is not linked to circumstances.  I also feel a joy that again cannot be explained by anything external.  

Perhaps this peace and joy will be the foundation from which I can continue the work that slowly - one encounter at a time - births the peaceable kingdom into our world...the work that moves us away from dualistic thinking and embraces the both/and that leads to transformation.  The needs are so great - and my personal resources feel so damn inadequate.  And yet...somehow...the gifts that God has planted in my heart and the longing for the peaceable kingdom that God nurtures in my soul is enough to empower me to do my part.  It is enough.  I am enough.  God is enough.

Today I love both the hawk and the quail without turning away from either.  I watch the snow fall and warm my hands near the flame of a candle that has given both light and warmth for many hours.  And I smile as a warmth from deep within me overflows. 

With love and warmest wishes for a meaningful Advent and blessed Christmastide,

Kim

Waxwings, Lotion and a French Advent

During my years in Scotland I was blessed to live in a rural community with wise farmers who were willing to teach a toonser yankee quine (Translation: American woman from the city)  how to read the natural signs around me and plan accordingly.  Right now those who are in the know in rural Aberdeenshire are preparing for a long, deep winter (based on a bumper crop of Rowan berries and the arrival of large flocks of waxwings for whom yon berries are a delight).  Mind you, no one has ever done a double-blind study of the efficacy of using rowan berries and waxwings in predicting the severity of winter.  But if I were living in rural Aberdeenshire today, I would make sure the coal bunker was full and extra candles and matches were on hand for power cuts - signs read! 

We are almost to the Season of Advent - my favorite season in the church year.  Advent brings me a sense of joy and peace - of comfort - that right now I desperately need.  But it is also the season that calls us to pay attention - notice - read the signs!  In many ways it has been a bruising year, culminating in the November election trip through the looking glass.  Reading those signs gives me no peace, comfort or joy.  As a white, college educated middle class woman, my privilege will protect me from much of the tsunami of injustice that may be heading our way.  All I might face is an assault on my freedom to make choices about my body - and the ongoing pay inequity, discrimination and misogyny that all women face (especially those of us who work in vocations previously or currently dominated by men).  By comparison to many of my dear friends, colleagues, congregants and family members,  I will get off easy.  Privilege protects me.

Reading these signs deeply disturbs me.  How did we get here?  How did hate speech get normalized?  What can we do to understand the circumstances and choices that landed us here, and how can we use wisdom and insight to move us through this time of deep division?  Is there a way to heal the gaping wound that separates people in America and endangers so many?  

Healing and reconciliation have been parts of my ministry since Moses was a child.  I have worked with many conflicted churches over the years - and a few in which the chasm separating factions was like a ten mile wide flaming moat filled with hungry crocodiles and poison.  Those are hard swamps to drain.   In my ministry, all the churches but one said that they wanted to heal, but not all were willing or at a place where they could do the hard work needed to bring about deep and true healing (with one church wanting to continue the war until their opponents were beaten into submission or vanquished - sigh).   

My brother recently had back surgery and developed a post-operative infection.  In order for him to heal, it was not enough for the doctors to treat with lotion the redness and swelling of his back.  They instead needed to drain the infection that had developed around his spine and treat him with antibiotics for an extended period of time - getting to the root of the problem.   The redness and swelling were symptoms of the infection - treating them as the problem would ultimately prevent healing.  Churches that adopt the "lotion" strategy of soothing the symptoms without addressing the underlying causes rarely heal - usually they just wallpaper over the problem and glory on until it pops up (unexpectedly!) in another way.  Symptom relief is very seductive - especially when you are in pain.  But if chosen as the only response to a challenge, it will eventually fail and always disappoint.

Scholars wiser than I are providing insight into the dynamics that led to the rise of the alt-right and the election phenomenon that caught so many of us by surprise.  But we must not be seduced into thinking that hate speech and a Trump presidency are the issues - they are symptoms of a deeper problem that needs addressing.  These wise minds can point us toward the conversations needed to bring true healing to our nation.  But are we are willing to learn how to have hard conversations outside of the protective bubble or echo chamber in which most of us live?

The church can be a place where we can practice having hard conversations.  Perhaps if we practice within our bubble, we will gain confidence for having tough conversations outside our protective zone where they can facilitate healing and positive change.  Perhaps if we deliberately spend time associating with people who do not echo our thoughts and feelings, we will learn to see the people behind the labels and be reminded that they, too, are beloved of God and created in God's very image.

The day after the election, I found myself thinking that I needed to do a three or six month swap with a pastor in rural Indiana - I needed to be immersed in the experience of living with people whose viewpoint is the polar opposite of my own.   I had to break bread with them, listen to them, visit them and have the experience of standing in their shoes and seeing the world through their eyes.  Perhaps then I would understand their anger and fear.  I have a sabbatical coming up in two years - perhaps that would be a constructive way to spend that time.  But frankly I can think of seven thousand other ways I would rather spend my sabbatical (like watching waxwings eating Rowan berries)!  

And therein lies the rub - the kinds of conversations needed to heal our nation are not easy or comfortable.  Papering over them is much nicer to contemplate, as is going to war with those who disagree with me - especially when I make this a holy war to protect the vulnerable and marginalized.  I can beat my evil opponent fair and square and save the oppressed - marching into hell for a heavenly cause!  This kind of holy war has deep roots in Christianity, feels satisfying to contemplate and is the perfect way to perpetuate the problem.

I do not really want to go to war with anyone.  And I do not want to see the civil liberties of others denied through white christian male heterosexist nationalism.  How do I thread this needle?

I have no definitive answer to that question, but these steps might lead me in the right direction:  I can read and learn.  I can listen deeply to others who live outside of my protected echo chamber, and I can intentionally spend time with those who are not part of my tribe.  I can make sure I am maintaining balance in my life between self care (including tribe time) and service.  I can try to see others through God's eyes of love, and look for ways to follow the example of the angels and encourage others to not react from a place of fear.  And I can remember these wise words of Rumi:  Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have build against it.  A full time job, to be sure.

To foster self care I decided to be French for Advent.  Some churches in France maintain the tradition of celebrating Advent for the forty days before Christmas (a custom also found in some Celtic and Eastern Christian communities).  Since Advent is my very favorite season in the church year, I decided that this year early is definitely better.  I dusted off a beloved Advent devotional written by a French-American monk and was delighted to open its pages on November 15th.  Soon the Advent wreath will come out and new beeswax candles will scent the air with the fragrance I associate with Advent comfort and peace.  The television will be turned off and I will spend more time in silence.  I hope these rituals of spiritual self care will open me more deeply to God's presence and movement - helping me to dance more gracefully with God.  Perhaps that will fortify me to face the signs I see on the horizon and engage in responses that will foster honest conversations and healing.  

If only the only signs needing to be addressed were flocks of waxwings and their beloved berries!

Drawing strength and comfort from an early Advent fire,

Kim

Moving the Needle

I just finished my last doctoral class (not counting the post-class paper).  I usually take one class per year, but this year I felt compelled to finish the coursework in one summer.  Since the seminary was experimenting with 5 day intensive courses, I decided to take two classes and put this part of the DMin behind me.  The first class went very well, and as Multicultural Counseling is a good skill for any pastor to have, I signed up for that second course and started reading the very thick text book.  At the appointed time, I drove south and west, and spent the Fourth of July week in class.

Our class was composed of six students and one professor.  Of the seven of us, all were clergy of various flavors:  two were Roman Catholic Priests, one was a Reconstructionist Rabbi, one was a Mennonite Pastor, one was Presbyterian, and one was Christian Reformed - Korean.  I am UCC.  Among us we had three women and four men, and people from Ghana, Nigeria, Florida, North Carolina, Indiana, Idaho and California.  Of those living in America, three were first generation immigrants (from Argentina, Korea, and England).  Those from Africa were here on student visas.  We were mixed in terms of religions, countries of origin, race, ethnicity, culture, sexual orientation, marital status, economic status, political persuasion, and although everyone but the Rabbi was Christian, it was a highly diverse group of Christians (from far-right evangelical/conservative to far-left progressive).

For five days we sat around the table and talked about very hard topics, practicing active listening, problem-solving, and a variety of different counseling and group process strategies.  It was intense.  And it was not always easy.  Passions would flare, and the group would hold the energy until it could dissipate or redirect.  We stayed around the table while people of color were dying at the hands of the police, and police were dying at the hands of  - what shall we call him? A person of color?  A veteran?  A person with mental health challenges?  Someone in need of help?  We stayed around the table and brought our widely diverse perspectives to questions that seem almost too big to answer, and feelings that were hard to contain.

Seminary is a safe place to be during times of fear and uncertainty.  People spring into action and create spaces to pray, or talk, or grieve, or express anger and fear - loving arms go around the  seminary community so we can step into the larger community and minister to those who are also afraid and angry.  Some went to Oakland.  Some to local vigils.  Many will go to a large gathering in San Francisco tomorrow afternoon.  Seminary, like a local church, becomes the place people are equipped, supported, and "launched" into service.

What do we do in the face of this continuing violence that fractures along racial lines?  What do we do when communities of color are afraid of the police who are called to serve and protect them, and the police are afraid of violence from the communities they are sworn to serve and protect?

We gather.

We gather to comfort and support.  We gather to witness to the need for constructive, transformative conversation followed by action.  We listen and hear one another.  We talk honestly and deeply about the role systemic racism plays in our current reality, taking a long and hard look at how we are complicit (often unwittingly) with a racist system.  We have tough conversations about gun violence in America, and discuss creative and effective ways to curb gun violence.  We look at all aspects of our judicial system, from the police to the prisons and everything in between.  We refuse to engage in the politics of blame and shame that are such a part of this election cycle, and we hold our elected officials responsible for setting a tone of positive, cooperative leadership.

We meet one another, talk honestly and respectfully, solve difficult problems together and implement change.

The most important part of gathering around the table to talk is that the conversation is useless if those gathered around the table are just like "me."  Each of us can have conversations like that sitting in front of a mirror!  Instead, we need to gather and converse with people who are different from us - people who hold positions that are outside of our experience, and possibly hard for us to hear.  We must get out of our bubble of comfort and familiarity and listen. The conversation isn't going to be easy, and sometimes it will not uncomfortable.  But if it is honest, respectful and true, it will move the needle.  And the damn needle needs to move!

During my drive today I stopped in an obscure town in Nevada for gas and a break.  The young woman behind he counter welcomed some conversation.  I asked her about living in a town that, well, was a brief stopping place for people who needed gasoline, a bathroom break, or an impressive assortment of jerky.   She shared, with a big smile on her face, that she loved living in a city  (Winnemucca), but loved living here more.  "There is a creek behind the house, and I can go out back with my gun and shoot as much as I want.  I love being outdoors, and relaxing with my gun."   Well, we had some common ground on the outdoors part, but the gun is another story.  She was listening to a conservative radio talk show, and had a WWJD tattoo - a question that I think we might answer differently.   If we were to generate a quick list of things we have in common, it would be a very short list.  Except for the most important thing - we are both beloved of God, and created in God's very image.  And she is someone I need to get to know - because she sees a completely different world than I do.

I know what the world I see looks like.  I need to see the world through the eyes of those who see a very different world.  And have a very different experience.

This week has been shocking, and shame on any political leader who uses these tragedies to stoke fear and division!  Equally, shame on anyone who enters the situation with a big broom and desire to sweep these even bigger questions under the rug.  If you are white, you benefit directly from systemic racism - end of story.   You have privilege.  It is time to use that privilege in service of justice and transformation.

It's time to gather and have real, life-changing conversations - a process faith communities are uniquely positioned to facilitate. This must happen before this level of violence becomes our new normal, and we habituated to it, or become resigned.  Once resignation, despair or apathy settle in, it is harder to move the needle.  And the damn needle needs to move!

With love and prayers for transformative justice,
Kim