Along the IH610 in Houston, there's a Baptist church with this sign:
Anyone who does not increase you will decrease you
Ummmmmm... NO!
Anyone who buys into that sign hasn't read the same Gospels I have. Every time you turned around, Jesus was hanging out with people who would "decrease you". Tax collectors, prostitutes, all kinds of 'unclean' people. Not only that, but he ATE with them! Big no-no if you were a first-century Jew. Is the sign saying that Jesus was decreased by hanging out with these people?
It seems to me that whether someone is 'increased' or 'decreased' by being around people with negative reputations is more a matter of one's behavior in relation to them. Is it not equally possible that if one hangs around people with questionable reputations that they might be increased?
That's certainly what Jesus did. Zaccheus, one of those despicable tax collectors that Jesus hung around with, was restored to community and a societal breach was healed. Matthew, another tax collector, became a disciple. Jesus healed lepers, people who were so stigmatized that they had to shout, "Leper! Leper!" as they walked the streets.
The religious authorities of the day certainly would have viewed Jesus as 'decreased'. I'm not sure the author of the sign would appreciate being associated with them. However, that was my reaction. Which would you prefer to go to - a church where all of us sinners can come together to help each other become better people or one where only those who are already perfect are welcome?
Since I'm nowhere close to perfect, you can guess which church I'd choose!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Rainbows
When I first came to Beaumont to interview for the call to Westminster Presbyterian, I'll have to admit that I mostly came out of curiosity. I'd lived here almost 20 years earlier and hadn't been back once since I left. The trip was more of an opportunity to look over familiar places than a really clear sense of call. After all, the week before I'd been on an interview that I was fairly certain was "the" place.
Yet I came ... out of curiosity and a desire to maintain the integrity of the call process.
Driving around town before I met with the committee, there came the typical Beaumont afternoon thunderstorm. Full blown. Huge dark clouds. ... and the biggest, most beautiful rainbow I'd seen in a very long time. Ummmm... maybe it was time to reassess my sense of call.
And I let myself listen to these faithful people, these friends, and listen for the Spirit, that still, small voice I'd been waiting on through the whole process.
In the almost six years I've been here since, we've been through some good times and some difficult times and been in ministry together. This past year has been the hardest as we wrestled with the incredibly difficult decision to dissolve the congregation and then actually do it.
The past two months have been especially difficult, with the reality beginning to set in and the saying of goodbye, experiencing "the lasts" together. Grief is a long journey and shared by many in different ways.
Last Sunday, we celebrated our final worship services. Prepartion for both of them was intense and complex. The weekend was deeply exhausting and deeply fulfilling. Worship was an experience of holy grief and care for one another.
On Wednesday, the congregation held a "Pastor Care" party for me, to spend time with each other and share blessings for the future.
Once again, those Beaumont afternoon/evening rains hit the area. One of the members went outside to get something from his car and came back in to report that there was a glorious rainbow outside.
We all traipsed out to watch it as the evening lengthened and the sun went down. A beautiful rainbow, spanning the sky in all its brilliant shades.
And, as I watched, there was a sense of completion.
"Well done, good and faithful servant."
Yet I came ... out of curiosity and a desire to maintain the integrity of the call process.
Driving around town before I met with the committee, there came the typical Beaumont afternoon thunderstorm. Full blown. Huge dark clouds. ... and the biggest, most beautiful rainbow I'd seen in a very long time. Ummmm... maybe it was time to reassess my sense of call.
And I let myself listen to these faithful people, these friends, and listen for the Spirit, that still, small voice I'd been waiting on through the whole process.
In the almost six years I've been here since, we've been through some good times and some difficult times and been in ministry together. This past year has been the hardest as we wrestled with the incredibly difficult decision to dissolve the congregation and then actually do it.
The past two months have been especially difficult, with the reality beginning to set in and the saying of goodbye, experiencing "the lasts" together. Grief is a long journey and shared by many in different ways.
Last Sunday, we celebrated our final worship services. Prepartion for both of them was intense and complex. The weekend was deeply exhausting and deeply fulfilling. Worship was an experience of holy grief and care for one another.
On Wednesday, the congregation held a "Pastor Care" party for me, to spend time with each other and share blessings for the future.
Once again, those Beaumont afternoon/evening rains hit the area. One of the members went outside to get something from his car and came back in to report that there was a glorious rainbow outside.
We all traipsed out to watch it as the evening lengthened and the sun went down. A beautiful rainbow, spanning the sky in all its brilliant shades.
And, as I watched, there was a sense of completion.
"Well done, good and faithful servant."
Friday, May 01, 2009
Poor Little Blog
Poor ignored little blog. However, I've been up to my alligators in eyeballs with church dissolution issues and a couple of pesky health problems.
But, for today, I have a little something to share so the poor little blog won't feel quite so ignored.
Yesterday, I went to the local disaster preparedness seminar which has been held each year since Her Horribleness about a month before hurricane season starts. They've been trying to improve attendance and this year offered door prizes to attendees.
Throughout the day, names were drawn from a hat and people received shirts and cool tool sets and gift cards for various neat places. Now, I rarely ever get my name drawn from a hat and, when I do, I always get one of the really crappy prizes. I like watching the winners, though, and seeing what they get, so I stayed to the end. (Plus, the presentations were good and I got all sorts of good information, which was the REAL reason I went.)
At the end of the seminar, they awarded the grand door prize. I won this:
It has 5 burners and a little refrigerator. The irony? I don't cook! God has such a delicious sense of humor!
At least I'll be able to eat the next time the power is out. Thanks, Jefferson County Emergency Operations! It's a beauty!
But, for today, I have a little something to share so the poor little blog won't feel quite so ignored.
Yesterday, I went to the local disaster preparedness seminar which has been held each year since Her Horribleness about a month before hurricane season starts. They've been trying to improve attendance and this year offered door prizes to attendees.
Throughout the day, names were drawn from a hat and people received shirts and cool tool sets and gift cards for various neat places. Now, I rarely ever get my name drawn from a hat and, when I do, I always get one of the really crappy prizes. I like watching the winners, though, and seeing what they get, so I stayed to the end. (Plus, the presentations were good and I got all sorts of good information, which was the REAL reason I went.)
At the end of the seminar, they awarded the grand door prize. I won this:
It has 5 burners and a little refrigerator. The irony? I don't cook! God has such a delicious sense of humor!
At least I'll be able to eat the next time the power is out. Thanks, Jefferson County Emergency Operations! It's a beauty!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Pyrrhic Victory
Well, it isn't according to the dictionary definition; however, it felt that way.
This morning I went to Mickey D's to get a simple Sausage McMuffin and small oj for breakfast. I get to the window and place my order. The cashier rings up a Sausage Egg McMuffin. I say, "No! I don't want egg. I just want the Sausage McMuffin, NO egg." She rings that up ... and it's the same price!
I say, "Wait a minute! The Sausage McMuffin costs less than the Sausage Egg McMuffin. You get less!" The cashier insists that they're the same price. I hold up the line for a bit, assuming she's talking to a manager. She gets back on the speaker and repeats the total from before.
ARGGGGGH!
I cancel my order and drive off. I refuse to pay extra for obvious stupidity (on the part of management) or laziness (on the part of the cashier).
So, I drove 40-cents worth of gas to the next Mickey D's, got my Sausage McMuffin with no guff about that stupid egg being worth nothing, and saved 40 cents in the process.
Well, it was the principle of the thing.
This morning I went to Mickey D's to get a simple Sausage McMuffin and small oj for breakfast. I get to the window and place my order. The cashier rings up a Sausage Egg McMuffin. I say, "No! I don't want egg. I just want the Sausage McMuffin, NO egg." She rings that up ... and it's the same price!
I say, "Wait a minute! The Sausage McMuffin costs less than the Sausage Egg McMuffin. You get less!" The cashier insists that they're the same price. I hold up the line for a bit, assuming she's talking to a manager. She gets back on the speaker and repeats the total from before.
ARGGGGGH!
I cancel my order and drive off. I refuse to pay extra for obvious stupidity (on the part of management) or laziness (on the part of the cashier).
So, I drove 40-cents worth of gas to the next Mickey D's, got my Sausage McMuffin with no guff about that stupid egg being worth nothing, and saved 40 cents in the process.
Well, it was the principle of the thing.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Fiasco
Well, the whole of His Horribleness (Hurricane Ike, for those of you who haven't read my Her Horribleness blogs after Rita) is a fiasco. That's the nature of hurricanes. But this is about a particular fiasco in the midst of the general hurricane fiasco.
Ever since His Horriblness roared through in September last year, there has been a community in the area which is truly caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Storm surge, the waters that get shoved ashore with no other place to go than beyond protective barrier of coastal sand dunes, was the beastie which ate up the vast majority of lives in His Horribleness' wake. Miles inland, the water piled up 4 or more feet into homes, ruining everything they touched and ultimately producing mold in all that they didn't touch.
Of course, this has happened before many times in many places, and all one can do is mentally flog the idiots who choose to build in an area where the flood plain was so low.
However, that can't be said about the families in LaBelle. In good faith, they built or bought homes that the government surveyor said was completely out of the reach of flood waters (except, perhaps, in extremely extraordinary circumstances). The National Flood Insurance program even willingly sold them flood insurance because of those surveys.
Then comes His Horribleness.
Now all the governmental entities say, "Oops! We goofed! The surveys were wrong and your homes are actually 3 feet BELOW the flood plain. Sorry, but we can't help you."
And because of that goof, these people are trapped, homeless. They can't live in their homes because the flood waters made them uninhabitable. They can't repair their homes because they are now located in an area where building is prohibited, since they are below the flood plain. They can't sell their homes, either, for the same reasons. And, they can't afford to continue to pay for homes they can't live in while purchasing or renting elsewhere.
All of that is fiasco; however, this is where the real fiasco starts.
There is a federal buyout program available where the homeowners can get 75% of the home's appraised value. The kicker is that the homeowner has to come up with the other 25% elsewhere (other grants, savings accounts, additional loans, whatever).
Shoot! My home isn't even near a flood plain, but if I had to come up with an additional 25% of the appraised value, I certainly wouldn't have the wherewithal to meet the $25,000 required. So, even if they knew they were in a precarious position before the storm, I'd still feel sorryfor families caught in that crunch.
Here's what absolutely infuriates me, though: These people didn't know! It was a screwup completely out of their control and beyond their ability to catch and fix before the first foundation was laid. The county decided it wasn't going to help. Any of the federal monies coming down the pike are specifically prevented from being used as the 25% match. These poor people have been just plain screwed!
I can't even begin to imagine the stress, anger, and frustration of being in their position, and I lived in limbo for about 2 years after Her Horribleness. Yet I knew precisely where I would live and that I could still afford to live there. There was no specter of homelessness, rootlessness that these poor families are experiencing.
The intellectual side of me recognizes the difficulty the local government entities have in providing assistance to meet the 25% match, legal and empty coffer-wise. But it strikes me that there's a moral obligation to commit to providing some recompense for the screwup that came through their offices, to doing something to help bring healing to these poor homeless souls. In the meantime ...
Fiasco! Total fiasco!
Ever since His Horriblness roared through in September last year, there has been a community in the area which is truly caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Storm surge, the waters that get shoved ashore with no other place to go than beyond protective barrier of coastal sand dunes, was the beastie which ate up the vast majority of lives in His Horribleness' wake. Miles inland, the water piled up 4 or more feet into homes, ruining everything they touched and ultimately producing mold in all that they didn't touch.
Of course, this has happened before many times in many places, and all one can do is mentally flog the idiots who choose to build in an area where the flood plain was so low.
However, that can't be said about the families in LaBelle. In good faith, they built or bought homes that the government surveyor said was completely out of the reach of flood waters (except, perhaps, in extremely extraordinary circumstances). The National Flood Insurance program even willingly sold them flood insurance because of those surveys.
Then comes His Horribleness.
Now all the governmental entities say, "Oops! We goofed! The surveys were wrong and your homes are actually 3 feet BELOW the flood plain. Sorry, but we can't help you."
And because of that goof, these people are trapped, homeless. They can't live in their homes because the flood waters made them uninhabitable. They can't repair their homes because they are now located in an area where building is prohibited, since they are below the flood plain. They can't sell their homes, either, for the same reasons. And, they can't afford to continue to pay for homes they can't live in while purchasing or renting elsewhere.
All of that is fiasco; however, this is where the real fiasco starts.
There is a federal buyout program available where the homeowners can get 75% of the home's appraised value. The kicker is that the homeowner has to come up with the other 25% elsewhere (other grants, savings accounts, additional loans, whatever).
Shoot! My home isn't even near a flood plain, but if I had to come up with an additional 25% of the appraised value, I certainly wouldn't have the wherewithal to meet the $25,000 required. So, even if they knew they were in a precarious position before the storm, I'd still feel sorryfor families caught in that crunch.
Here's what absolutely infuriates me, though: These people didn't know! It was a screwup completely out of their control and beyond their ability to catch and fix before the first foundation was laid. The county decided it wasn't going to help. Any of the federal monies coming down the pike are specifically prevented from being used as the 25% match. These poor people have been just plain screwed!
I can't even begin to imagine the stress, anger, and frustration of being in their position, and I lived in limbo for about 2 years after Her Horribleness. Yet I knew precisely where I would live and that I could still afford to live there. There was no specter of homelessness, rootlessness that these poor families are experiencing.
The intellectual side of me recognizes the difficulty the local government entities have in providing assistance to meet the 25% match, legal and empty coffer-wise. But it strikes me that there's a moral obligation to commit to providing some recompense for the screwup that came through their offices, to doing something to help bring healing to these poor homeless souls. In the meantime ...
Fiasco! Total fiasco!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Tears
I've gotten really good at it over the years. At first, just the intro would get me and the tears would flow. In time, it was the refrain that would tip me over the edge. A few more years and I could sing that song from start to finish without a glisten in my eye or a catch in my throat.
That is, until today.
The sermon was on the call of the prophet Samuel, the disciple Nathanael, the civil rights leader the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and each and every one of us. There was Christ's reminder of "Don't worry. I'm always with you."
My little and dwindling flock once again heard the words of the little boy Samuel responding to what he thought was chief priest Eli's voice, "Here I am!" Once again, they heard the words that it doesn't matter how big or small you are, how ineffective you may feel, God calls each one of you!
Then I had to go and choose THAT song - Here I Am, Lord!
I didn't think twice about it. For at least the last 8 years I've been able to sing it with no problems. While it wasn't truly just "a song", it didn't punch me in the gut like it used to.
Until today.
I managed to start strong and make it through most of the first verse, but then my voice began to catch in my throat and there was a quaver in the words I was able to sing. As we continued on, it became harder and harder to sing, and by the last verse, I simply stood there with tears in my eyes, reading the words, while the congregation continued singing. In fact, I'm tearing up right now, remembering it.
It is the song of my call. The song that grabbed me by the ears and shook me. The song that accompanied my writing the words 'attend seminary' in itsy-bitsy handwriting, almost microscopic in size.
"Here I am, Lord! I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart."
That's what I'm doing right now. Holding the people of this dying, resurrecting congregation in my heart ... and it hurts. I'd somehow forgotten that that's what following Jesus may mean. Following led to a cross and crown of thorns for Jesus. While we may not ourselves have such an ending, to truly follow Jesus means letting people and their situations touch your very heart.
It may also mean going. That's what I'm preparing to do as we wind down our ministry together. I won't be here as what's left of this congregation graduates, gets married, has children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, retires, and dies. I think today's the first time I really realized that's what this time of ending means for me. And so, the tears.
Yet, my heart knows that I am not alone, and that God has called me to follow. It still doesn't stop the tears - tears honoring a ministry together that is coming to an end. Perhaps those tears are a gift of one soul to another.
I think it will be a while yet before I'm able to sing THAT song again without choking up and tears coming to my eyes.
It is indeed a fitting tribute to a congregation whose hearts heard God's call so many years ago, and continues to respond with "Here I am, Lord! Send me."
That is, until today.
The sermon was on the call of the prophet Samuel, the disciple Nathanael, the civil rights leader the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and each and every one of us. There was Christ's reminder of "Don't worry. I'm always with you."
My little and dwindling flock once again heard the words of the little boy Samuel responding to what he thought was chief priest Eli's voice, "Here I am!" Once again, they heard the words that it doesn't matter how big or small you are, how ineffective you may feel, God calls each one of you!
Then I had to go and choose THAT song - Here I Am, Lord!
I didn't think twice about it. For at least the last 8 years I've been able to sing it with no problems. While it wasn't truly just "a song", it didn't punch me in the gut like it used to.
Until today.
I managed to start strong and make it through most of the first verse, but then my voice began to catch in my throat and there was a quaver in the words I was able to sing. As we continued on, it became harder and harder to sing, and by the last verse, I simply stood there with tears in my eyes, reading the words, while the congregation continued singing. In fact, I'm tearing up right now, remembering it.
It is the song of my call. The song that grabbed me by the ears and shook me. The song that accompanied my writing the words 'attend seminary' in itsy-bitsy handwriting, almost microscopic in size.
"Here I am, Lord! I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart."
That's what I'm doing right now. Holding the people of this dying, resurrecting congregation in my heart ... and it hurts. I'd somehow forgotten that that's what following Jesus may mean. Following led to a cross and crown of thorns for Jesus. While we may not ourselves have such an ending, to truly follow Jesus means letting people and their situations touch your very heart.
It may also mean going. That's what I'm preparing to do as we wind down our ministry together. I won't be here as what's left of this congregation graduates, gets married, has children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, retires, and dies. I think today's the first time I really realized that's what this time of ending means for me. And so, the tears.
Yet, my heart knows that I am not alone, and that God has called me to follow. It still doesn't stop the tears - tears honoring a ministry together that is coming to an end. Perhaps those tears are a gift of one soul to another.
I think it will be a while yet before I'm able to sing THAT song again without choking up and tears coming to my eyes.
It is indeed a fitting tribute to a congregation whose hearts heard God's call so many years ago, and continues to respond with "Here I am, Lord! Send me."
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Too Much, Too Soon
I do realize that parents want the best for their kids. I certainly did, and do, for my son. However, I wonder if our society hasn't been on a quest for too much, too soon for some time.
There are tv talent shows for children, not young adults, to show off what they're good at. While I've a problem with such shows being on national tv, I don't really have a problem with encouraging our children to try new things, even if they fail, as long as it doesn't put them in harm's way AND as long as it's the kid's idea of what's a good time and having fun.
However, I guess I've suddenly connected some random events over the past year involving elementary age kids performing for large audiences and decided to wonder does our society as a whole expect too much, too soon of them?
The most prominent that pops to mind at the moment is the Chinese girl who sang at the Olympics. She has an incredible voice, and would have been a sensation even if the Chinese government hadn't decided to have a "Vanilla Ice" stand-in lip-sync the song while the young lady sang.
I also reacently received a link of 5 elementary-aged girls singing the Star-Spangled Banner at a university basketball game. You couldn't have asked for a more professional performance from those 5 girls.
And, I guess that's where my difficulty with it sets in. Professional? At 6,7,8 years old? C'mon! They're kids! What does it take of their time for play and imagination and just plain silly fun to polish that number? Is it the wise thing to do? Will we burn out some incredible future talent by pushing them to sing like adult professionals before their bodies, minds, and spirits are able to handle it? Does such an early start have the potential to injure voices that should be involved in playing "Red Rover" and "Duck, Duck, Goose" and "Marco Polo"?
Don't get me wrong. There are indeed some prodigies who choose to nurture a gift from a very early age. They are drawn to sing or play an instrument or act or create a work of art and you almost have to grab them by the hair and drag them away to get them to learn the basics of human interaction. And, if those 5 girls or the girl from China or any of the others are such prodigies, then ok. Do we have to showcase them at such a young age, though?
I still think we've lost some perspective when it comes to our kids and are nudging them to adulthood way too quickly. Why can't we just let children be what they are - child-like? It might be a step toward improving our society over the long haul.
There are tv talent shows for children, not young adults, to show off what they're good at. While I've a problem with such shows being on national tv, I don't really have a problem with encouraging our children to try new things, even if they fail, as long as it doesn't put them in harm's way AND as long as it's the kid's idea of what's a good time and having fun.
However, I guess I've suddenly connected some random events over the past year involving elementary age kids performing for large audiences and decided to wonder does our society as a whole expect too much, too soon of them?
The most prominent that pops to mind at the moment is the Chinese girl who sang at the Olympics. She has an incredible voice, and would have been a sensation even if the Chinese government hadn't decided to have a "Vanilla Ice" stand-in lip-sync the song while the young lady sang.
I also reacently received a link of 5 elementary-aged girls singing the Star-Spangled Banner at a university basketball game. You couldn't have asked for a more professional performance from those 5 girls.
And, I guess that's where my difficulty with it sets in. Professional? At 6,7,8 years old? C'mon! They're kids! What does it take of their time for play and imagination and just plain silly fun to polish that number? Is it the wise thing to do? Will we burn out some incredible future talent by pushing them to sing like adult professionals before their bodies, minds, and spirits are able to handle it? Does such an early start have the potential to injure voices that should be involved in playing "Red Rover" and "Duck, Duck, Goose" and "Marco Polo"?
Don't get me wrong. There are indeed some prodigies who choose to nurture a gift from a very early age. They are drawn to sing or play an instrument or act or create a work of art and you almost have to grab them by the hair and drag them away to get them to learn the basics of human interaction. And, if those 5 girls or the girl from China or any of the others are such prodigies, then ok. Do we have to showcase them at such a young age, though?
I still think we've lost some perspective when it comes to our kids and are nudging them to adulthood way too quickly. Why can't we just let children be what they are - child-like? It might be a step toward improving our society over the long haul.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Lasts
The small, but wonderful, congregation I serve is undergoing dissolution and will be ending its ministry at the end of May next year. So, now we are doing "lasts". The last community Thanksgiving, the last Advent, the last Christmas Eve Candlelight Communion service, the last 'nog' ...
Of course, these experiences are filled with deep emotion. Something beautiful is coming to an end and the beginnings are just so nebulous and uncertain at the moment. For many of the members, the church is the only, or almost the only, congregation they've been a part of ... or they've been members for 15-20 years or more. Letting go isn't easy, and shouldn't be. If it were too easy, you'd wonder if they were ever committed to the ministry in the first place.
Things have been a bit surreal for me. True, I was a member here in the mid-70s, early 80s, so I do have a fairly solid connection to the congregation beyond the years I've served as pastor. However, I guess part of what makes this time seem a bit surreal is that I'm doing the things that I'd ordinarily be doing with a congregation at this time of year and will be doing once again with the next congregation I serve. There will be tweaks and differences, but there will still be sermons and communion and special music and Joy Gift offerings and holiday fellowship events.
After worship the other day, I overheard part of a conversation where someone was wondering how anyone could miss worship during this time of "lasts". The person commented on how special these worship services have been, along the lines of better than usual. Perhaps it's just that these are "lasts". To me, they've contained the usual bumbles and miscues and glorious moments that any other worship service has during Advent.
I still can't put together those Joy Gift offering boxes without something not working right. Probably never will. I still manage to forget to tell someone something they really need to know before helping in the worship service. I still manage some of the more creative bulletin typos along with the mundane everyday variety that I manage to include in the "regular" bulletin. The sermons still tell the "old, old story" using the lectionary texts that I've used for more than a decade.
See? Business as usual. And yet it isn't.
There is a quality to the life of the church which transcends business as usual. A touch of helter-skelter. This is new territory for almost all of us and we're groping our way through the process. But there's something about the "lasts" which adds an extra quality, a bittersweet enjoyment perhaps?, which is visible on/in those who have chosen to face the "lasts" and experience them. It's something which cannot be put into words and yet it's there.
What an honor to be invited to participate in this particular ending! It is a blessed experience for God is in the midst of it.
Of course, these experiences are filled with deep emotion. Something beautiful is coming to an end and the beginnings are just so nebulous and uncertain at the moment. For many of the members, the church is the only, or almost the only, congregation they've been a part of ... or they've been members for 15-20 years or more. Letting go isn't easy, and shouldn't be. If it were too easy, you'd wonder if they were ever committed to the ministry in the first place.
Things have been a bit surreal for me. True, I was a member here in the mid-70s, early 80s, so I do have a fairly solid connection to the congregation beyond the years I've served as pastor. However, I guess part of what makes this time seem a bit surreal is that I'm doing the things that I'd ordinarily be doing with a congregation at this time of year and will be doing once again with the next congregation I serve. There will be tweaks and differences, but there will still be sermons and communion and special music and Joy Gift offerings and holiday fellowship events.
After worship the other day, I overheard part of a conversation where someone was wondering how anyone could miss worship during this time of "lasts". The person commented on how special these worship services have been, along the lines of better than usual. Perhaps it's just that these are "lasts". To me, they've contained the usual bumbles and miscues and glorious moments that any other worship service has during Advent.
I still can't put together those Joy Gift offering boxes without something not working right. Probably never will. I still manage to forget to tell someone something they really need to know before helping in the worship service. I still manage some of the more creative bulletin typos along with the mundane everyday variety that I manage to include in the "regular" bulletin. The sermons still tell the "old, old story" using the lectionary texts that I've used for more than a decade.
See? Business as usual. And yet it isn't.
There is a quality to the life of the church which transcends business as usual. A touch of helter-skelter. This is new territory for almost all of us and we're groping our way through the process. But there's something about the "lasts" which adds an extra quality, a bittersweet enjoyment perhaps?, which is visible on/in those who have chosen to face the "lasts" and experience them. It's something which cannot be put into words and yet it's there.
What an honor to be invited to participate in this particular ending! It is a blessed experience for God is in the midst of it.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Avoidance
I guess that's as good a word as any for it.
It's real. It's official. And I've been avoiding writing about it. Three Sundays ago our congregation voted to dissolve as of May 31, 2009. It was a very difficult decision, and has been coming on for a looooooooong time. Yet it's hard to keep a congregation going when what comes in doesn't come close to what's going out.
The congregation is incredible! They were the ones who brought up the subject of bringing the ministry to a close. It wasn't easy for them to do that, but they want to be able to end with dignity and the ability to help the community with the resources they have available instead of spending it all on keeping the doors open.
Of course, people feel sad and a bit lost. For many, it's the only church they've ever belonged to. And they've a heart for each other as well as for ministering to the community.
As I'm typing this, I've been watching a tv report on the closure. Weird feelings to have it out there like that. There'll be an article in the local paper tomorrow, too. Doesn't help any that I HATE watching myself on tv. Part of me wants to crawl under the covers and hide.
It's one thing for those of us in the congregation to say that our ministry is coming to an end. It's another to have some stranger announce it to the world.
Well, tomorrow may be interesting. Our plan is to sell the building and use the proceeds to help maintain the children's center, plus help other community programs as we are able. Betcha I get a whole lot of calls from realtors and others!
Maybe I'll be able to say more about the process and how I'm feeling later. But I did manage to get past the first post!
It's real. It's official. And I've been avoiding writing about it. Three Sundays ago our congregation voted to dissolve as of May 31, 2009. It was a very difficult decision, and has been coming on for a looooooooong time. Yet it's hard to keep a congregation going when what comes in doesn't come close to what's going out.
The congregation is incredible! They were the ones who brought up the subject of bringing the ministry to a close. It wasn't easy for them to do that, but they want to be able to end with dignity and the ability to help the community with the resources they have available instead of spending it all on keeping the doors open.
Of course, people feel sad and a bit lost. For many, it's the only church they've ever belonged to. And they've a heart for each other as well as for ministering to the community.
As I'm typing this, I've been watching a tv report on the closure. Weird feelings to have it out there like that. There'll be an article in the local paper tomorrow, too. Doesn't help any that I HATE watching myself on tv. Part of me wants to crawl under the covers and hide.
It's one thing for those of us in the congregation to say that our ministry is coming to an end. It's another to have some stranger announce it to the world.
Well, tomorrow may be interesting. Our plan is to sell the building and use the proceeds to help maintain the children's center, plus help other community programs as we are able. Betcha I get a whole lot of calls from realtors and others!
Maybe I'll be able to say more about the process and how I'm feeling later. But I did manage to get past the first post!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Stupid Internet
OK, I guess it's a bit ironic. I'm using the internet to diss the internet.
So far, I've worked my way through three potential posts and hit the "Publish Post" button only to have the connection be broken and the post to flee off into cyberoblivion.
There seems to be a bizarre pattern to it, too. The connection has been breaking down between 10:30am and 1:00pm almost every day. I'm beginning to think it's me (that is, my modem) instead of the service provider. But I can't quite figure out why the darned thing only pops off at that time of day. The lengthe of time I'm offline varies from day to day, with me having to holler for help about once a week.
Could it be one of those insidious side effects from Ike?
Hmmmmmmmm........
So far, I've worked my way through three potential posts and hit the "Publish Post" button only to have the connection be broken and the post to flee off into cyberoblivion.
There seems to be a bizarre pattern to it, too. The connection has been breaking down between 10:30am and 1:00pm almost every day. I'm beginning to think it's me (that is, my modem) instead of the service provider. But I can't quite figure out why the darned thing only pops off at that time of day. The lengthe of time I'm offline varies from day to day, with me having to holler for help about once a week.
Could it be one of those insidious side effects from Ike?
Hmmmmmmmm........
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Con-cen-tr ... Oh! Look a Bird!
I seem to have the attention span of a flea recently. That's why I've not posted anything in a while. By the time I get an idea of what I'd like to say, a new thought takes me in an entirely different direction. So I thought that if I acknowledged my flitter-headedness, it might help.
It's not like I have nothing on my mind or to help keep me distracted. Elections, financial crises, difficult decisions coming up at church, technology deciding to malfunction at the worst possible moment (isn't that when it's supposed to malfunction?), recovery from yet another hurricane, meetings, and ... I've not had a vacation yet this year.
Hurrication doesn't count. That's actually hard work, trying to keep up with where everyone is and what information needs to be transmitted to whom and keeping people connected. Not to mention worrying about how your own home is in the aftermath.
Well, I managed to get this far and the brains have given up on me! I may go take a nap or read a book (if I can concentrate on it) or just veg out in front of the tv. The boy has Mythbusters on and they're kind of fun. The current one is McGyver myths. I love McGyver! Guess I'll toddle off and watch.
It's not like I have nothing on my mind or to help keep me distracted. Elections, financial crises, difficult decisions coming up at church, technology deciding to malfunction at the worst possible moment (isn't that when it's supposed to malfunction?), recovery from yet another hurricane, meetings, and ... I've not had a vacation yet this year.
Hurrication doesn't count. That's actually hard work, trying to keep up with where everyone is and what information needs to be transmitted to whom and keeping people connected. Not to mention worrying about how your own home is in the aftermath.
Well, I managed to get this far and the brains have given up on me! I may go take a nap or read a book (if I can concentrate on it) or just veg out in front of the tv. The boy has Mythbusters on and they're kind of fun. The current one is McGyver myths. I love McGyver! Guess I'll toddle off and watch.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Continuing Need for New Perspective
This is a response I made on a blog (Gruntled Center) by Dr. William "Beau" Weston, who is advocating the elimination of Committees on Representation from the Presbyterian Church (USA) structure. I'm lousy at the technical aspects of linking, so it's not linked here. The first paragraph speaks to a response from a current member of the General Assembly Committee on Representation (GACOR), who speaks of coming at the work of representation and diversity through his position of white privilege.
I have recently rotated off the GACOR. I, too, come at this from a position of white privilege; although, I also have a position which puts me in a bit of a minority - clergywoman.
There is still much work to be done before Committees on Representation become “irrelevant”. I also am a member of New Covenant presbytery, and will admit that I dropped the ball on some of the representational work which needs to be done here. This is being rectified. For example, there are committees in our presbytery structure that are made up of moderators of other committees in the presbytery. As we’ve begun to work with the nominating committee, one of the things we’ve noticed is that these “over-committees” can all too easily become mainly white males. It can be difficult for even conscientious nominating committees to be completely aware of how certain choices affect other aspects of the leadership of the presbytery.
One of the unique features of Committees on Representation is that they are required to be composed such that the majority of its members are members of racial/ethnic minority groups. For those of us who have lived our entire lives from a position of privilege due to race (whether we have been aware of such privilege or not), this compositional flip-flop allows us to experience, at least somewhat, what it means to be in the minority. I believe this to be healthy for both the individuals involved and the PCUSA as a whole.
I wonder what the PCUSA would be like if, for one four-year term, the GA Nominating Committee were required to fill all positions so that every General Assembly-level committee had a majority of members who are members of racial/ethnic minorities, were under the age of 45, and had at least one-third of its members who had a condition which meets the criteria of the Americans with Disabilities Act. That would not preclude having members on each committee who could express the heritage and history of that committee‘s work, but might allow the work of the PCUSA to move forward in new, unexpected, and Spirit-driven ways.
I have recently rotated off the GACOR. I, too, come at this from a position of white privilege; although, I also have a position which puts me in a bit of a minority - clergywoman.
There is still much work to be done before Committees on Representation become “irrelevant”. I also am a member of New Covenant presbytery, and will admit that I dropped the ball on some of the representational work which needs to be done here. This is being rectified. For example, there are committees in our presbytery structure that are made up of moderators of other committees in the presbytery. As we’ve begun to work with the nominating committee, one of the things we’ve noticed is that these “over-committees” can all too easily become mainly white males. It can be difficult for even conscientious nominating committees to be completely aware of how certain choices affect other aspects of the leadership of the presbytery.
One of the unique features of Committees on Representation is that they are required to be composed such that the majority of its members are members of racial/ethnic minority groups. For those of us who have lived our entire lives from a position of privilege due to race (whether we have been aware of such privilege or not), this compositional flip-flop allows us to experience, at least somewhat, what it means to be in the minority. I believe this to be healthy for both the individuals involved and the PCUSA as a whole.
I wonder what the PCUSA would be like if, for one four-year term, the GA Nominating Committee were required to fill all positions so that every General Assembly-level committee had a majority of members who are members of racial/ethnic minorities, were under the age of 45, and had at least one-third of its members who had a condition which meets the criteria of the Americans with Disabilities Act. That would not preclude having members on each committee who could express the heritage and history of that committee‘s work, but might allow the work of the PCUSA to move forward in new, unexpected, and Spirit-driven ways.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Too Much Sky
The other day my son and I were in the car headed to one of the local restaurants. As we came to one "familiar" intersection, I looked up and out and thought back to when I first moved to town. At that particular intersection, when you looked toward the sky, all you could see were the tops of the trees.
After Rita, there was a bit more sky to be seen at that intersection, but still there were a fair number of trees in that view.
Now, the intersection looks as though some maniacal lumberjack of Paul Bunyan proportions stomped through town, slicing out the tops of trees with his well-honed axe. The end result is ...
WAY TOO MUCH SKY!!
And little pitiful stubby treetops in view.
Don't get me wrong. Generally, I like sky. But it was Oh! so pleasant to have those beautiful green, leafy limbs, the trees' crowing glory, to help block the sun's rays early in the morning and at dusk.
Now, when I look at where the treetops used to be, I feel sad and shriveled inside. It will be another generation before the skyline begins to look "normal" again, assuming another beastie doesn't come plowing through the streets and yards of town again in the meantime.
*sigh* I think I've been feeling the combined effects of Her Horribleness and His Horribleness this week. Sad, then angry, then fuzzy, then rinse and repeat. Sometimes it's just overwhelming. Sometimes it seems like the best thing to do is just crawl back into bed and pull the pillows over my head. But sometimes, you just have to plod along, and remember to take care of yourself.
I'm beginning to think I need to take a couple of days off and just get away from town.
Hmmmmmmmmm...you know, I'm beginning to think it's about time for a trip to Austin. I've some friends there I haven't seen in quite a while. Yes, hills would be nice about now.
Now all I've got to do is figure out when!
After Rita, there was a bit more sky to be seen at that intersection, but still there were a fair number of trees in that view.
Now, the intersection looks as though some maniacal lumberjack of Paul Bunyan proportions stomped through town, slicing out the tops of trees with his well-honed axe. The end result is ...
WAY TOO MUCH SKY!!
And little pitiful stubby treetops in view.
Don't get me wrong. Generally, I like sky. But it was Oh! so pleasant to have those beautiful green, leafy limbs, the trees' crowing glory, to help block the sun's rays early in the morning and at dusk.
Now, when I look at where the treetops used to be, I feel sad and shriveled inside. It will be another generation before the skyline begins to look "normal" again, assuming another beastie doesn't come plowing through the streets and yards of town again in the meantime.
*sigh* I think I've been feeling the combined effects of Her Horribleness and His Horribleness this week. Sad, then angry, then fuzzy, then rinse and repeat. Sometimes it's just overwhelming. Sometimes it seems like the best thing to do is just crawl back into bed and pull the pillows over my head. But sometimes, you just have to plod along, and remember to take care of yourself.
I'm beginning to think I need to take a couple of days off and just get away from town.
Hmmmmmmmmm...you know, I'm beginning to think it's about time for a trip to Austin. I've some friends there I haven't seen in quite a while. Yes, hills would be nice about now.
Now all I've got to do is figure out when!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Morning Reflection
I've been enjoying the pleasant morning air today. The sliding glass door is open so the Penster can wander in and out as she pleases. It's cool enough to keep the skeeters from buzzing around and finding their way into the house. I'll close the door when the first insectoid flies in.
It's a beautiful blue, sun-shiny day. But there's a problem.
There's just too much sky. I look out my backdoor and the scene that used to be framed by the bright green shapes of large oaks and pines and whatever other kinds of trees grow around here, is now framed by what seem like skeletal remains. It's sad.
I drive down the streets and, especially early in the morning or toward dusk, the trees which used to help filter the rising or setting sun are gone, and the brightness hurts the eye. It's sad.
While the number of chainsaws doing their buzzing is nowhere near the number making their racket after Rita, the sound of their cutting puts my teeth on edge and causes me to cringe a little.
Still, it is a very pleasant morning. The fresh air is healing. The pain's still there, but I can remember that healing happens. It happened after Rita. It will happen after Ike. It's a process which takes time. But it happens. *sigh*
It's a beautiful blue, sun-shiny day. But there's a problem.
There's just too much sky. I look out my backdoor and the scene that used to be framed by the bright green shapes of large oaks and pines and whatever other kinds of trees grow around here, is now framed by what seem like skeletal remains. It's sad.
I drive down the streets and, especially early in the morning or toward dusk, the trees which used to help filter the rising or setting sun are gone, and the brightness hurts the eye. It's sad.
While the number of chainsaws doing their buzzing is nowhere near the number making their racket after Rita, the sound of their cutting puts my teeth on edge and causes me to cringe a little.
Still, it is a very pleasant morning. The fresh air is healing. The pain's still there, but I can remember that healing happens. It happened after Rita. It will happen after Ike. It's a process which takes time. But it happens. *sigh*
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Radical Idea
While ruminating my way through the financial news of the morning paper, a random word popped into my head: Jubilee.
Suddenly, it struck me that large numbers of Americans consider this country a product of our Judeo-Christian heritage, so why not implement a Judeo-Christian concept in this time of crisis?
In Leviticus 25, God requires that every 50th years be a year of jubilee. It was to be a time of joy, when land was to be returned to its original owners (i.e. the land proportioned out to each family of the Israelites after the exodus), slaves and prisoners were to be freed (and in that time, most slaves or prisoners were in that position because of debt), when debts were to be forgiven, and the mercies of God would be particularly apparent.
Over the centuries, Jubilee hasn't particularly been a part of our religious practice, but what if we took this biblical concept and put it into practice in our current fiscal crisis? Just reset the financial clock to zero?
Of course, you'd have to modify it a bit so that people wouldn't be tossed out of their homes. But what if everyone had a clean slate to begin anew? I believe that was God's intent in establishing the jubilee year: Sins forgiven, debts forgiven, a return to the starting point of one's heritage.
Oh! It wouldn't be easy, and those who would lose funds from the repayment of debts would squawk. Their pockets wouldn't be as richly lined as they'd want them to be.
But let's consider something. Many of the people who are in over their heads have gotten there due to circumstances beyond their control (health issues and layoffs come to mind) or have been preyed upon by predatory lenders who change the rules of the game whenever it looks like someone might actually pay their way out from under their thumbs. Those financial institutions will likely end up without a dime, or at most a few shekels, from those who owe them money due to bankruptcies or plain and simple default. Why not just set the debt account back to zero and give everyone a restart?
Then there wouldn't be a need for multi-billion dollar bailouts. Those who have been financially oppressed might begin to see hope for the future and engage in possibilities that improve their lives and the lives of others. I think God was aware of how seriously draining ongoing financial difficulties are. I believe that's why God commanded and hoped that humanity would take the opportunity every 50 years to exhibit the incredible mercy which is in God's nature.
Sure, Jubilee didn't seem to make it beyond the words passed down through scripture over the centuries.
That makes it easier for us to start now. Who knows? According to God's time, this may actually be a year of jubilee.
Why not claim our Judeo-Christian heritage and give Jubilee a try?
Suddenly, it struck me that large numbers of Americans consider this country a product of our Judeo-Christian heritage, so why not implement a Judeo-Christian concept in this time of crisis?
In Leviticus 25, God requires that every 50th years be a year of jubilee. It was to be a time of joy, when land was to be returned to its original owners (i.e. the land proportioned out to each family of the Israelites after the exodus), slaves and prisoners were to be freed (and in that time, most slaves or prisoners were in that position because of debt), when debts were to be forgiven, and the mercies of God would be particularly apparent.
Over the centuries, Jubilee hasn't particularly been a part of our religious practice, but what if we took this biblical concept and put it into practice in our current fiscal crisis? Just reset the financial clock to zero?
Of course, you'd have to modify it a bit so that people wouldn't be tossed out of their homes. But what if everyone had a clean slate to begin anew? I believe that was God's intent in establishing the jubilee year: Sins forgiven, debts forgiven, a return to the starting point of one's heritage.
Oh! It wouldn't be easy, and those who would lose funds from the repayment of debts would squawk. Their pockets wouldn't be as richly lined as they'd want them to be.
But let's consider something. Many of the people who are in over their heads have gotten there due to circumstances beyond their control (health issues and layoffs come to mind) or have been preyed upon by predatory lenders who change the rules of the game whenever it looks like someone might actually pay their way out from under their thumbs. Those financial institutions will likely end up without a dime, or at most a few shekels, from those who owe them money due to bankruptcies or plain and simple default. Why not just set the debt account back to zero and give everyone a restart?
Then there wouldn't be a need for multi-billion dollar bailouts. Those who have been financially oppressed might begin to see hope for the future and engage in possibilities that improve their lives and the lives of others. I think God was aware of how seriously draining ongoing financial difficulties are. I believe that's why God commanded and hoped that humanity would take the opportunity every 50 years to exhibit the incredible mercy which is in God's nature.
Sure, Jubilee didn't seem to make it beyond the words passed down through scripture over the centuries.
That makes it easier for us to start now. Who knows? According to God's time, this may actually be a year of jubilee.
Why not claim our Judeo-Christian heritage and give Jubilee a try?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
When Pigs Fly
Got up this morning and wandered out to the driveway to get the newspaper as I usually do. Slipped it out of its plastic sheath to see these words over one of the above-the-fold stories:
Disaster bill on fast track in Congress
I won't use the language that ran through my head as I read this headline. It's not particularly pastor-like.
We're THREE YEARS out from Hurricane Rita and there are still too mucho major dollars hanging around that haven't gotten to the people who needed it THEN, and even that took waaaaaaaaaaaay too long to make it through the sludge factory that oozes assistance through the governmental process.
It's a good thing my faith lies elsewhere, because it certainly isn't in the people who make such statements of "quickly" and then leave the area to languish on the brink after they've gotten away from the place where their sound bites have the most visibility.
In all fairness, much has happened quicker this time than it did after Rita. Shoot! It's only 12 days after the storm and I have power.
But further into the paper is an editorial by Dan Rather that points out that once again our hard hit area is being overshadowed by another hurricane and the admittedly difficult financial situation our country is facing. What does that say about how our assistance programs are run when the 4th largest city in the country slides into national oblivion?
Oh! We haven't dropped completely off the map yet, and probably won't until the next disaster pops up. What angers me is that I've already seen with my own eyes the "speed of snail" pace which usually leads to further deterioration of a damaged home and damaged heart and soul. I am angry and fearful that we will see the same thing this time.
When do you think I should begin to believe the fragile promises of quick relief? When pigs fly.
When pigs fly.
Disaster bill on fast track in Congress
I won't use the language that ran through my head as I read this headline. It's not particularly pastor-like.
We're THREE YEARS out from Hurricane Rita and there are still too mucho major dollars hanging around that haven't gotten to the people who needed it THEN, and even that took waaaaaaaaaaaay too long to make it through the sludge factory that oozes assistance through the governmental process.
It's a good thing my faith lies elsewhere, because it certainly isn't in the people who make such statements of "quickly" and then leave the area to languish on the brink after they've gotten away from the place where their sound bites have the most visibility.
In all fairness, much has happened quicker this time than it did after Rita. Shoot! It's only 12 days after the storm and I have power.
But further into the paper is an editorial by Dan Rather that points out that once again our hard hit area is being overshadowed by another hurricane and the admittedly difficult financial situation our country is facing. What does that say about how our assistance programs are run when the 4th largest city in the country slides into national oblivion?
Oh! We haven't dropped completely off the map yet, and probably won't until the next disaster pops up. What angers me is that I've already seen with my own eyes the "speed of snail" pace which usually leads to further deterioration of a damaged home and damaged heart and soul. I am angry and fearful that we will see the same thing this time.
When do you think I should begin to believe the fragile promises of quick relief? When pigs fly.
When pigs fly.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Ain't It Amazing?
This may be scattershot and a bit rambling, but here are some ruminations from our return from exodus and exile:
The boy, the dog, and I returned home yesterday evening to a house with no power and houses all around us running noisy generators. After we brought everything back inside, our next task was opening windows to get as much of a cross-breeze as was available. Fortunately, Ike left cool weather in his wake, not like Rita, who left us to swelter.
Damage to the house appears to be minimal, but I'll be a lot happier after the first rain. That way I can find any mysterious leaks that might still exist. Today as I went through the garage, I found all sorts of dead worms. I'm not sure if they were blown into the garage by the storm or water brought them into the garage or they just tried to get away from the rain and crawled into the first dry spot they found. Some of them made it pretty far into the garage before dying, so I'm a bit skeptical about that last option.
We had to put the dog in a kennel while we were in Duncanville because my sister-in-law is quite allergic to dog dander. On the trip back home, she kept sneezing and is having a truly snorky time of it even now. She's still eating and acting mostly ok, but I'm a bit worried about her. We may be making a visit to the vet's tomorrow, if he's up and running.
Last night, I ended up sleeping on the couch, because the Penster wouldn't sleep in the coolest part of the house by herself. She wanted to sleep near me, but managed to ensconce herself in the most inextricable places and then honk and snork. She sounded so pitiful. At least when we got someplace cooler, she rested a little better, even though she still honks and snorks.
We had worship this morning, all 9 of us. That wasn't quite everyone who was in town, but it was a fair representation of us. Mostly it was a time of sharing "storm stories" and talking about how Rita and Ike were similar, but different. Several of us are having a difficult time with the experiences related to the noise of generators and, especially, chain saws, and seeing blue tarps once again decorating so many roofs.
Yet in the midst of all that has come up again because of Ike, we've once again found the presence of God. "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Be glad that the vast majority of us came through the storm in much better shape than after Rita. Be glad that here it is only a week since the storm came through and power is returning so quickly this time. It was 3 weeks after Rita before the power crews were even close to my house. Be glad that there is a cool breeze to help us survive the time without the electrical power we've gotten so used to having.
It was an odd feeling when the electricity came back on today. I was truly enjoying the open windows and the gentle breeze and the lack of constant news streams about this, that and the other about the aftermath of Ike. There was a sense of peace that I can't quite put my finger on, even though there was the sound of generators in the background. It was pleasant to lie on the couch and read a book, just relaxing. Of course, no one said we had to close the windows and doors once the power came back on. However, it seemed to be a good idea, since the dog was having such a difficult time honking and snorking.
I've also been blessed with a wonderful son! When we got home yesterday, after taking pictures with his phone camera because mine had died, he started removing downed limbs from the yard. This morning, he got up and went to the store and bought the last axe they had. He spent the rest of the morning and first part of the afternoon hacing away at the limbs too big to move and the limb that straddled the powerline into the house. It's not all out at the curb yet, but he managed to accomplish most of the task.
Right now, I'm looking out the sliding glass door and noticing the "thinness" of the trees. Rita thinned them out a good bit. But Ike has taken even more out. It's strange to see the sky through what's left. Thinking back on today, the sun has seemed, well, more present. It is an odd feeling.
Hurricanes and natural disasters seem to do that - leave you with an odd feeling. In time it will go away. It did after Rita. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to live with the odd.
The boy, the dog, and I returned home yesterday evening to a house with no power and houses all around us running noisy generators. After we brought everything back inside, our next task was opening windows to get as much of a cross-breeze as was available. Fortunately, Ike left cool weather in his wake, not like Rita, who left us to swelter.
Damage to the house appears to be minimal, but I'll be a lot happier after the first rain. That way I can find any mysterious leaks that might still exist. Today as I went through the garage, I found all sorts of dead worms. I'm not sure if they were blown into the garage by the storm or water brought them into the garage or they just tried to get away from the rain and crawled into the first dry spot they found. Some of them made it pretty far into the garage before dying, so I'm a bit skeptical about that last option.
We had to put the dog in a kennel while we were in Duncanville because my sister-in-law is quite allergic to dog dander. On the trip back home, she kept sneezing and is having a truly snorky time of it even now. She's still eating and acting mostly ok, but I'm a bit worried about her. We may be making a visit to the vet's tomorrow, if he's up and running.
Last night, I ended up sleeping on the couch, because the Penster wouldn't sleep in the coolest part of the house by herself. She wanted to sleep near me, but managed to ensconce herself in the most inextricable places and then honk and snork. She sounded so pitiful. At least when we got someplace cooler, she rested a little better, even though she still honks and snorks.
We had worship this morning, all 9 of us. That wasn't quite everyone who was in town, but it was a fair representation of us. Mostly it was a time of sharing "storm stories" and talking about how Rita and Ike were similar, but different. Several of us are having a difficult time with the experiences related to the noise of generators and, especially, chain saws, and seeing blue tarps once again decorating so many roofs.
Yet in the midst of all that has come up again because of Ike, we've once again found the presence of God. "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Be glad that the vast majority of us came through the storm in much better shape than after Rita. Be glad that here it is only a week since the storm came through and power is returning so quickly this time. It was 3 weeks after Rita before the power crews were even close to my house. Be glad that there is a cool breeze to help us survive the time without the electrical power we've gotten so used to having.
It was an odd feeling when the electricity came back on today. I was truly enjoying the open windows and the gentle breeze and the lack of constant news streams about this, that and the other about the aftermath of Ike. There was a sense of peace that I can't quite put my finger on, even though there was the sound of generators in the background. It was pleasant to lie on the couch and read a book, just relaxing. Of course, no one said we had to close the windows and doors once the power came back on. However, it seemed to be a good idea, since the dog was having such a difficult time honking and snorking.
I've also been blessed with a wonderful son! When we got home yesterday, after taking pictures with his phone camera because mine had died, he started removing downed limbs from the yard. This morning, he got up and went to the store and bought the last axe they had. He spent the rest of the morning and first part of the afternoon hacing away at the limbs too big to move and the limb that straddled the powerline into the house. It's not all out at the curb yet, but he managed to accomplish most of the task.
Right now, I'm looking out the sliding glass door and noticing the "thinness" of the trees. Rita thinned them out a good bit. But Ike has taken even more out. It's strange to see the sky through what's left. Thinking back on today, the sun has seemed, well, more present. It is an odd feeling.
Hurricanes and natural disasters seem to do that - leave you with an odd feeling. In time it will go away. It did after Rita. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to live with the odd.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Strange Perspective of Time
I’m not sure whether it is a blessing or a curse to have experienced another significant hurricane so recently. The weather nerds all say that an upper level Category x storm is the equivalent of the next higher category. So, by that definition, Southeast Texas has experienced two Category 3 hurricanes within the past 3 years. In such a situation, what would any normal brain do? Why … try to expect the exact same things to happen after each of them, of course!
Unfortunately, my brain seems to have retained a somewhat skewed perception of the events immediately after Her Horribleness and what’s happening now after HIS Horribleness. What makes it even more difficult to deal with is that both Rita and Ike hit the area in almost the same time frame at almost exactly the same time of the same month in almost the exact concurrence of two major storms within a short period of time. Katrina clobbered Louisiana about 3 weeks before Rita, while Gustav hit southwest Louisiana just 2 weeks before Ike. YIKES!
So, of course, our experience of the two storms must be exactly the same. Right? … Wrong.
Certainly, there are some similarities. I’ve already mentioned a few. Another is that, for the most part, southeast Texas seems to be once again overshadowed by the devastation experienced elsewhere. If you watch the major news channels, Galveston, Bolivar Peninsula, and Houston receive the vast majority of the coverage, while Beaumont, Bridge City, and Orange may crop up in passing. My brain screams “Not fair! Not fair!” at the tv set.
There are differences as well. When Rita came roaring through Sabine Pass, we ended up on the “clean” side of the storm. There was some storm surge in the area, but most of the devastation experienced by the area was wind damage. With Ike … well, we got the “dirty” side of the storm. I knew that water was insidious and capable of major destruction. But I don’t think I ever really realized that water coming up into an area with such deceptive slowness could produce such incredible damage as what I’ve seen in the pictures of Bridge City and elsewhere along the coast. It totally boggles the mind.
If I really put my thinking cap on, I’m able to remember that 3 days after Rita hit we were almost as clueless about what’s going to happen and when as it feels we are right now. About now, someone might be asking, “Well, didn’t we learn something from Rita? Can’t we do it better this time around?” I have a feeling we did, and probably are doing it better this time around, but it doesn’t feel that way because there are differences between the two storms.
Stop and think for a moment. When Rita hit, the vast majority of the community had evacuated and only a very few souls remained in town. In my congregation, only one family weathered the storm in their home, and only one family who came back before the third day after the storm. This time, about a third of our congregation stayed in their homes while Ike roared through. They’ve experienced the immediate desolation and lack of resources, information, and air conditioning. True, within the first week after Rita, there were just as many, if not more, back in the 100+ degree heat, which we haven’t had this time around. (Praise God!!) But by having so many in town to experience the aftermath so quickly, it seems as though we should already have power and clean water and sewage and full grocery stores and on and on right now!
I find myself getting really frustrated because I’m not back in Beaumont yet. When Rita hit, on the day she hit, I was able to make it back to Texas from my meeting in California and, on Sunday, I made it to Mom’s in Houston. I was just a hop, skip and a jump away from getting back home. This time, it will be at least a 4 ½ hour drive to get there, and I won’t have the easy resources of Mom’s electricity, phone, and internet connection to fall back on. Her home is in about the same shape as mine: powerless, grocery-store-less, resourceless.
I have to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days since the storm came through. At 3 days after Rita, we had National Guard personnel posted at the exits to town and no one could easily go in or out. That has not been true this time around. We’ve actually gotten a bit more information and a bit more healing happening a bit more quickly than it did after Rita. Who would have ever imagined that Lumberton would have power by now? Or downtown Beaumont? By the first Sunday worship after Rita, we were still without power at the church. They’ve already had power for two days this time around!
I have to remind myself that the first day we were permitted to come in, take a quick look, and get out after Rita was almost exactly a week after the storm. I already know that my house doesn’t have a tree through the roof, and I knew that on Monday. My backdoor neighbor was able to see what damage had occurred and called me to let me know. What a blessing!
Yes, we’ve had two somewhat similar storms happen way too closely for my comfort zone. Yes, there’s still the frustration of not having things happen as quickly as we’d like them to. Yes, I’m Oh! Sooooo! ready to be in my own home with everything back to normal, once again.
But I’m beginning to realize that we’re Oh! So! Blessed this time around in so many ways. Sure, there are glitches as things which didn’t happen during Rita, like the major flooding, are being addressed this time around in the different ways that are now called for.
Yet I’m reminded that God is truly in the midst of this experience - walking alongside us, mourning losses, feeling our frustration, calming fears, bringing sanity back when it feels that we can’t handle any more. I guess there’s one more similarity between those two storms: We made it through Rita with God’s help as communities have come together to help each other stitch up the wounds and heal the injuries we‘ve sustained. I’m pretty sure we’ll make it through Ike the same way.
Unfortunately, my brain seems to have retained a somewhat skewed perception of the events immediately after Her Horribleness and what’s happening now after HIS Horribleness. What makes it even more difficult to deal with is that both Rita and Ike hit the area in almost the same time frame at almost exactly the same time of the same month in almost the exact concurrence of two major storms within a short period of time. Katrina clobbered Louisiana about 3 weeks before Rita, while Gustav hit southwest Louisiana just 2 weeks before Ike. YIKES!
So, of course, our experience of the two storms must be exactly the same. Right? … Wrong.
Certainly, there are some similarities. I’ve already mentioned a few. Another is that, for the most part, southeast Texas seems to be once again overshadowed by the devastation experienced elsewhere. If you watch the major news channels, Galveston, Bolivar Peninsula, and Houston receive the vast majority of the coverage, while Beaumont, Bridge City, and Orange may crop up in passing. My brain screams “Not fair! Not fair!” at the tv set.
There are differences as well. When Rita came roaring through Sabine Pass, we ended up on the “clean” side of the storm. There was some storm surge in the area, but most of the devastation experienced by the area was wind damage. With Ike … well, we got the “dirty” side of the storm. I knew that water was insidious and capable of major destruction. But I don’t think I ever really realized that water coming up into an area with such deceptive slowness could produce such incredible damage as what I’ve seen in the pictures of Bridge City and elsewhere along the coast. It totally boggles the mind.
If I really put my thinking cap on, I’m able to remember that 3 days after Rita hit we were almost as clueless about what’s going to happen and when as it feels we are right now. About now, someone might be asking, “Well, didn’t we learn something from Rita? Can’t we do it better this time around?” I have a feeling we did, and probably are doing it better this time around, but it doesn’t feel that way because there are differences between the two storms.
Stop and think for a moment. When Rita hit, the vast majority of the community had evacuated and only a very few souls remained in town. In my congregation, only one family weathered the storm in their home, and only one family who came back before the third day after the storm. This time, about a third of our congregation stayed in their homes while Ike roared through. They’ve experienced the immediate desolation and lack of resources, information, and air conditioning. True, within the first week after Rita, there were just as many, if not more, back in the 100+ degree heat, which we haven’t had this time around. (Praise God!!) But by having so many in town to experience the aftermath so quickly, it seems as though we should already have power and clean water and sewage and full grocery stores and on and on right now!
I find myself getting really frustrated because I’m not back in Beaumont yet. When Rita hit, on the day she hit, I was able to make it back to Texas from my meeting in California and, on Sunday, I made it to Mom’s in Houston. I was just a hop, skip and a jump away from getting back home. This time, it will be at least a 4 ½ hour drive to get there, and I won’t have the easy resources of Mom’s electricity, phone, and internet connection to fall back on. Her home is in about the same shape as mine: powerless, grocery-store-less, resourceless.
I have to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days since the storm came through. At 3 days after Rita, we had National Guard personnel posted at the exits to town and no one could easily go in or out. That has not been true this time around. We’ve actually gotten a bit more information and a bit more healing happening a bit more quickly than it did after Rita. Who would have ever imagined that Lumberton would have power by now? Or downtown Beaumont? By the first Sunday worship after Rita, we were still without power at the church. They’ve already had power for two days this time around!
I have to remind myself that the first day we were permitted to come in, take a quick look, and get out after Rita was almost exactly a week after the storm. I already know that my house doesn’t have a tree through the roof, and I knew that on Monday. My backdoor neighbor was able to see what damage had occurred and called me to let me know. What a blessing!
Yes, we’ve had two somewhat similar storms happen way too closely for my comfort zone. Yes, there’s still the frustration of not having things happen as quickly as we’d like them to. Yes, I’m Oh! Sooooo! ready to be in my own home with everything back to normal, once again.
But I’m beginning to realize that we’re Oh! So! Blessed this time around in so many ways. Sure, there are glitches as things which didn’t happen during Rita, like the major flooding, are being addressed this time around in the different ways that are now called for.
Yet I’m reminded that God is truly in the midst of this experience - walking alongside us, mourning losses, feeling our frustration, calming fears, bringing sanity back when it feels that we can’t handle any more. I guess there’s one more similarity between those two storms: We made it through Rita with God’s help as communities have come together to help each other stitch up the wounds and heal the injuries we‘ve sustained. I’m pretty sure we’ll make it through Ike the same way.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
After the Storm
It's real and it isn't.
For my mom, she learned the house is ok, but can't seem to understand that getting power back into Houston is going to take a while. "Once power gets to the grocery store I can go back. That shouldn't take too long. They're bringing people from all across the country to put the electrical system back together. It can't take that long."
Problem is there are over 3 MILLION people without power in the Houston area alone. That's just for starters. Many of those "people from across the country" have been working their very appreciated fool heads off repairing the electrical systems in Louisiana demolished by Hurricane Gustav just a couple of weeks earlier. There comes a point when you run out of "people from across the country" who are available to help splice together damaged systems. They do have to keep a few people in their own areas to keep their own systems working.
Also, I remember how hard it was waiting for power to come back to my neighborhood when Her Horribleness blew through 3 years ago. I stayed with Mom in Houston and commuted. That doesn't look like a viable option this time around, and, even if it is, it's still a pretty stressful situation. Of course, there's no way I'm planning on staying in the DFW area for however long it takes the power to come on at home! Caught on the horns of a dilemma, aren't I?
This morning, I turned on one of the local tv stations' streaming video to the sounds of someone cutting limbs from a downed tree. My body actually flinched from the sound. It brings back so many visceral memories of listening to chainsaws cutting down trees for weeks? months? after Rita came through the area. There's a part of me that wonders if I can handle that sound for weeks on end again.
Last night, I tried to describe to myself how I felt. The best I could come up with is that I feel like I've been hit by a semi going full bore, drug for a while, and then had the truck come to rest on top of me. I recognize that this is the shock period of the disaster, and also that I'm still in limbo about the particular level of damage my own home has experienced.
What heightens the feeling is that I've only just been back in my home for less than a year. True, it's just a house and the stuff inside are just things. There's a part of me that really isn't tied to what is there. However, there's a sense of "place-less-ness" that has struck me rather deeply. Perhaps it has something to do with my mom's house also not being a viable fallback position at this time. Mom's lived in the same place for 45 years, so that's "home" in a way the my current living place isn't.
It's going to be a long journey through the night this time, I think. There's a bit of "C'mon, God! Twice in 3 years?! Give us a break!!" driving my feelings at the moment. My intellect tells me that the people who experienced Ike in Haiti and Cuba had it much, much worse than most of us. But heart's ruling head at the moment and I'm beginning to think a nice scream or two, with some fist-flailing at God thrown in for good measure, might be a good way to deal with the whole scenario at the moment.
I'll come back in a bit and let you know how that goes! Later!
For my mom, she learned the house is ok, but can't seem to understand that getting power back into Houston is going to take a while. "Once power gets to the grocery store I can go back. That shouldn't take too long. They're bringing people from all across the country to put the electrical system back together. It can't take that long."
Problem is there are over 3 MILLION people without power in the Houston area alone. That's just for starters. Many of those "people from across the country" have been working their very appreciated fool heads off repairing the electrical systems in Louisiana demolished by Hurricane Gustav just a couple of weeks earlier. There comes a point when you run out of "people from across the country" who are available to help splice together damaged systems. They do have to keep a few people in their own areas to keep their own systems working.
Also, I remember how hard it was waiting for power to come back to my neighborhood when Her Horribleness blew through 3 years ago. I stayed with Mom in Houston and commuted. That doesn't look like a viable option this time around, and, even if it is, it's still a pretty stressful situation. Of course, there's no way I'm planning on staying in the DFW area for however long it takes the power to come on at home! Caught on the horns of a dilemma, aren't I?
This morning, I turned on one of the local tv stations' streaming video to the sounds of someone cutting limbs from a downed tree. My body actually flinched from the sound. It brings back so many visceral memories of listening to chainsaws cutting down trees for weeks? months? after Rita came through the area. There's a part of me that wonders if I can handle that sound for weeks on end again.
Last night, I tried to describe to myself how I felt. The best I could come up with is that I feel like I've been hit by a semi going full bore, drug for a while, and then had the truck come to rest on top of me. I recognize that this is the shock period of the disaster, and also that I'm still in limbo about the particular level of damage my own home has experienced.
What heightens the feeling is that I've only just been back in my home for less than a year. True, it's just a house and the stuff inside are just things. There's a part of me that really isn't tied to what is there. However, there's a sense of "place-less-ness" that has struck me rather deeply. Perhaps it has something to do with my mom's house also not being a viable fallback position at this time. Mom's lived in the same place for 45 years, so that's "home" in a way the my current living place isn't.
It's going to be a long journey through the night this time, I think. There's a bit of "C'mon, God! Twice in 3 years?! Give us a break!!" driving my feelings at the moment. My intellect tells me that the people who experienced Ike in Haiti and Cuba had it much, much worse than most of us. But heart's ruling head at the moment and I'm beginning to think a nice scream or two, with some fist-flailing at God thrown in for good measure, might be a good way to deal with the whole scenario at the moment.
I'll come back in a bit and let you know how that goes! Later!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Only in Beaumont
Last night, I was watching Hurricane Ike updates on The Weather Channel. Finally, the Weather Nerd (WN) posted in Beaumont comes on the screen. The wind and rain were rough at this point. WN was doing the hurricane dance, barely holding onto his hood and his mike and doing his best to stay in front of the camera lens.
WN doggedly gives his update from in front of Crockett Street. Lights are still blazing in the background at this time.
Suddenly, there's a shape moving in the background. It moved quickly, so I thought, "Debris".
A few moments later, the shape passes through the picture again. It's rather large and ghostly white. I thought, "Hmmmm...that's weird."
Finally, the large, white shape dances through the picture, making pirouettes and leaping.
AHA! The Weather Channel got streaked!! TEEHEE!!
Give the WN credit: He didn't miss a lick!
WN doggedly gives his update from in front of Crockett Street. Lights are still blazing in the background at this time.
Suddenly, there's a shape moving in the background. It moved quickly, so I thought, "Debris".
A few moments later, the shape passes through the picture again. It's rather large and ghostly white. I thought, "Hmmmm...that's weird."
Finally, the large, white shape dances through the picture, making pirouettes and leaping.
AHA! The Weather Channel got streaked!! TEEHEE!!
Give the WN credit: He didn't miss a lick!
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