Dear Friends in Christ -
One of my clergy colleagues here in Connecticut, the Rev. Julia Gatta, just published a book entitled "The Nearness of God: Parish Ministry as Spiritual Practice." She wrote the book for fellow clergy, but in reading a review about the book, I realized again that it's not just me who "ministers" here. It's all of us. We do this ministry together.
Because we share in the ministry at St. Paul's and in the ministry that flows out beyond our doors, I thought you might share my appreciate for a things Gatta has to day. Her words ring true with our experience, I think:
++ "The goal of parish ministry is directing people toward God . . . to further the lifelong process of conversion." -- Gatta
Gatta's words remind me to do two things: 1. take the long view, and 2. remember that, in everything we do, our goal is always to get people face to face, toe to toe with God
++ Parish ministry takes time . . . "we never really come to the end of it."
These words bring a wry smile to my lips . . . Gatta's right. There's always more to do: more people to see, more prayers to say. The empty in-box I covet would actually be a sign that it's time to close the doors. So I'm rejoicing in full inboxes and parking problems.
++ I'm also rejoicing in the Spirit present week by week as we worship together. It's just what Gatta describes: "a sense of quiet anticipation, a notable stillness and attentiveness." I LOVE the process of preparing to be with you and receiving what God has for us as week by week. I'm always sad for those who aren't there, because they're missing out!
Parish ministry - reaching out together as the people of God - is what we do. And in our faithfulness, God comes near to us again and again and again.
Faithfully together with you in God,
Janet+
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Are you writing in the margins?
Dear Friends in Christ -
A friend-of-a-friend-of-mine just got back from a "wellness workshop." The leader of the group talked about the idea of "margin" in our lives. The leader defined margins as "the space between our load and our limits." Overload is where we find ourselves when we don't have enough margin.
How do you know if you're on overload? Well, if you feel fatigued, hurried, anxious, suffocated, forgetful, and/or frazzled, you're probably running on overload.
There is an alternative to overload, and it feels like this: secure, calm, energetic, curious, engaged, full of breath. This way of living has margins . . . enough space for the unexpected and a little room to spare.
Most of us live on overload. Our culture values "pushing the limits," "taking it to the max." When we greet one another, we talk about how busy we are. I'm starting to wonder: is that a good thing?
With a more than full-time job, a husband and kids, creative passions and other commitments, I'm sure I'll always be busy. But now I'm going for something deeper, something more satisfying for me and for those around me. I'm going for happy. And I'm pretty sure that that's going to require less writing in the margins.
Next time we greet one another, how 'bout exchanging stories of when we last had a little white space?
Faithfully,
Janet+
A friend-of-a-friend-of-mine just got back from a "wellness workshop." The leader of the group talked about the idea of "margin" in our lives. The leader defined margins as "the space between our load and our limits." Overload is where we find ourselves when we don't have enough margin.
How do you know if you're on overload? Well, if you feel fatigued, hurried, anxious, suffocated, forgetful, and/or frazzled, you're probably running on overload.
There is an alternative to overload, and it feels like this: secure, calm, energetic, curious, engaged, full of breath. This way of living has margins . . . enough space for the unexpected and a little room to spare.
Most of us live on overload. Our culture values "pushing the limits," "taking it to the max." When we greet one another, we talk about how busy we are. I'm starting to wonder: is that a good thing?
With a more than full-time job, a husband and kids, creative passions and other commitments, I'm sure I'll always be busy. But now I'm going for something deeper, something more satisfying for me and for those around me. I'm going for happy. And I'm pretty sure that that's going to require less writing in the margins.
Next time we greet one another, how 'bout exchanging stories of when we last had a little white space?
Faithfully,
Janet+
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Things learned while walking . . .
1. My gait has its own rhythm and pattern, and I can tell pretty quickly if I'm in the grove. (And if I'm not, there's a particular spot on the right side of my right knee that lets me know!)
2. I enjoy walking with other people, but I walk more slowly when I "multi-task" by walking and talking at the same time.
3. Getting this "walk around Shelton" accomplished is important to me, but it's not more important than stopping to greet the gardeners working near the Scinto office towers or helping people who stop me to ask for directions.
4. We live in a place with lots of "texture;" there are no perfectly flat places or perfectly straight lines in this whole town!
5. (And perhaps most important!) I'm making decisions differently than I used to. I used to be more guarded about things. I used to avoid pushing my boat into unknown waters. When I felt called to this walking adventure, I told everyone about it before I knew whether I could walk all 31 miles (and I'm still not totally sure!). Certainty is worth a lot, but the grace of togetherness is priceless!
Faithfully yours . . . step by step . . .
Janet+
2. I enjoy walking with other people, but I walk more slowly when I "multi-task" by walking and talking at the same time.
3. Getting this "walk around Shelton" accomplished is important to me, but it's not more important than stopping to greet the gardeners working near the Scinto office towers or helping people who stop me to ask for directions.
4. We live in a place with lots of "texture;" there are no perfectly flat places or perfectly straight lines in this whole town!
5. (And perhaps most important!) I'm making decisions differently than I used to. I used to be more guarded about things. I used to avoid pushing my boat into unknown waters. When I felt called to this walking adventure, I told everyone about it before I knew whether I could walk all 31 miles (and I'm still not totally sure!). Certainty is worth a lot, but the grace of togetherness is priceless!
Faithfully yours . . . step by step . . .
Janet+
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Walking along
Dear Friends in Christ -
Some of you have been asking me how the walking is going . . . thank you!
The short answer is that I walked ** 10 MILES ** on Monday the 24th, and I felt darn proud of myself! I've never walked that far in my life!
I was sort of surprised that I could do it. But then, on the other hand, I guess I wasn't THAT surprised. I've been working up to it. I hesitate to use the word "training" because that implies a more regimentation than I can take credit for. But then again, when I started this process a month ago, I hadn't walked more than two miles in years, so my gradual increase in distance week by week has brought me to this point.
It's amazing what a little (even imperfect!) faithfulness can do!
Faithfully,
Janet+
Some of you have been asking me how the walking is going . . . thank you!
The short answer is that I walked ** 10 MILES ** on Monday the 24th, and I felt darn proud of myself! I've never walked that far in my life!
I was sort of surprised that I could do it. But then, on the other hand, I guess I wasn't THAT surprised. I've been working up to it. I hesitate to use the word "training" because that implies a more regimentation than I can take credit for. But then again, when I started this process a month ago, I hadn't walked more than two miles in years, so my gradual increase in distance week by week has brought me to this point.
It's amazing what a little (even imperfect!) faithfulness can do!
Faithfully,
Janet+
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Dalai Lama and the Season of Pentecost
Dear Friends in Christ -
A few months back, my husband invited me to go with him to a series of lectures by the Dalai Lama. Though I studied Buddhism in my World Religions course in college and have known a few Buddhists over the years, Buddhism is clearly outside the realm of my expertise. But I was intrigued. And I definitely was interested in getting some time with my husband, so I signed on.
Ed and I spent May 20-23 trekking each day to Radio City Music Hall to listen . . . and to learn. I was greatly comforted to hear the Dalai Lama start out the first lecture by saying that it wasn't his intent to convince any of the thousands of people present - mostly Christians and secular humanists - to become Buddhist. He said that what he most wanted us to know was how much he respected each of us as human beings and how much he wanted to encourage us to do the practices (meditation, study, etc.) that would take us farther along our paths of faith.
By the end of the second day, I felt so convinced by the Dalai Lama that the practice of study would take me deeper in my faith and closer to God that I couldn't wait to get home to reach for my Bible. I read passages from the Bible on my iphone on the train on the way home.
We Christians are now living in the days following Pentecost; it's "ordinary time." "Green season" we call it, though it's really not a season like Advent or Epiphany or Easter. This is a time for getting back to the basics.
Sometimes I feel like God's voice to us (to me!) is a broken record: pray, read your Bible, give, keep the commandments. Why is the message the same old thing? Well, I guess when I/we are actually doing all this then we stand a good chance of getting a new message. Until then, we should expect that God to be consistent and persistent - because He loves us, and because this IS the Way.
Faithfully,
Janet+
A few months back, my husband invited me to go with him to a series of lectures by the Dalai Lama. Though I studied Buddhism in my World Religions course in college and have known a few Buddhists over the years, Buddhism is clearly outside the realm of my expertise. But I was intrigued. And I definitely was interested in getting some time with my husband, so I signed on.
Ed and I spent May 20-23 trekking each day to Radio City Music Hall to listen . . . and to learn. I was greatly comforted to hear the Dalai Lama start out the first lecture by saying that it wasn't his intent to convince any of the thousands of people present - mostly Christians and secular humanists - to become Buddhist. He said that what he most wanted us to know was how much he respected each of us as human beings and how much he wanted to encourage us to do the practices (meditation, study, etc.) that would take us farther along our paths of faith.
By the end of the second day, I felt so convinced by the Dalai Lama that the practice of study would take me deeper in my faith and closer to God that I couldn't wait to get home to reach for my Bible. I read passages from the Bible on my iphone on the train on the way home.
We Christians are now living in the days following Pentecost; it's "ordinary time." "Green season" we call it, though it's really not a season like Advent or Epiphany or Easter. This is a time for getting back to the basics.
Sometimes I feel like God's voice to us (to me!) is a broken record: pray, read your Bible, give, keep the commandments. Why is the message the same old thing? Well, I guess when I/we are actually doing all this then we stand a good chance of getting a new message. Until then, we should expect that God to be consistent and persistent - because He loves us, and because this IS the Way.
Faithfully,
Janet+
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Flag at half staff, but still flying
Dear Friends in Christ -
Even as I type this, my childhood friend Barbie is following her husband's flag-draped coffin from the funeral home to the church of our childhood. With her aging mother and her teen-age children, Barbie will sit on the same mottled-orange pews on which we wriggled through Sunday services two and a half decades ago.
Though the sun is shining in Goldendale as it is here today, the mood is somber in this one-horse town. All the shops will close at one o'clock so everyone can be at the memorial service at two.
And even in the midst of it all, people will look up. They'll talk not only about how sad it is to lose Mark, but also about his full-on commitment to freedom for his country and to love of his family. The flag will fly at half-staff, but it will still fly. And that, people will say, is how it should be.
"Life is changed, not ended" we say in our Episcopal burial liturgy. The loss of a loved one, especially someone dying so young, is the test of whether not we really believe what we pray.
I wish I could be there with my parents and brother and all of the others who will gather today. The day will be marked by tales of heroism and by the sound of taps, by the prairie winds whispering their own prayers during the pauses between words as people say their last good-byes and the coffin is lowered into the earth.
I've stood at so many gravesites on so many occasions, I can imagine it perfectly. The moment after I lay a flower, bend to touch the coffin one last time, I have a choice. What will I do next? Can I, will I, put one foot in front of the other? Do I have the faith to choose to move?
God in heaven, have mercy this day. Receive into your loving arms your faithful servant Mark; we entrust him to your care. And have mercy on us, too. Give us strength not just to survive, but also to really live. Give us courage to look up once again. Amen.
Janet+
Even as I type this, my childhood friend Barbie is following her husband's flag-draped coffin from the funeral home to the church of our childhood. With her aging mother and her teen-age children, Barbie will sit on the same mottled-orange pews on which we wriggled through Sunday services two and a half decades ago.
Though the sun is shining in Goldendale as it is here today, the mood is somber in this one-horse town. All the shops will close at one o'clock so everyone can be at the memorial service at two.
And even in the midst of it all, people will look up. They'll talk not only about how sad it is to lose Mark, but also about his full-on commitment to freedom for his country and to love of his family. The flag will fly at half-staff, but it will still fly. And that, people will say, is how it should be.
"Life is changed, not ended" we say in our Episcopal burial liturgy. The loss of a loved one, especially someone dying so young, is the test of whether not we really believe what we pray.
I wish I could be there with my parents and brother and all of the others who will gather today. The day will be marked by tales of heroism and by the sound of taps, by the prairie winds whispering their own prayers during the pauses between words as people say their last good-byes and the coffin is lowered into the earth.
I've stood at so many gravesites on so many occasions, I can imagine it perfectly. The moment after I lay a flower, bend to touch the coffin one last time, I have a choice. What will I do next? Can I, will I, put one foot in front of the other? Do I have the faith to choose to move?
God in heaven, have mercy this day. Receive into your loving arms your faithful servant Mark; we entrust him to your care. And have mercy on us, too. Give us strength not just to survive, but also to really live. Give us courage to look up once again. Amen.
Janet+
Monday, May 3, 2010
Mark W. Coleman
Dear Friends in Christ -
Yesterday (Sunday) morning, one of my childhood friends received a knock on her door. When she opened it, three uniformed army officers were on her doorstep. "Ma'am, we regret to inform you . . ." Barbie says she can't remember anything after that except that they told her that her husband Mark had been blown up in Afghanistan.
I think it likely that the "regret to inform you" guys didn't actually say, at least as their opening line, that Mark was "blown up." But certainly "blown up" is how everything feels to Barbie and her two kids (one's college-age and one's graduating from high school in June).
Mark was an Army Ranger. He was proud of his work, of the string of grace and good luck and good teamwork that had kept him safe from harm in the midst of dangerous ops for roughly 20 years.
As if to soften the blow, everyone says that we knew that "this" could happen some day. But something inside me screams that surely we must not have really, really KNOWN, or we would have done something more to stop this war . . . and the others. For even this one life is too high a price to pay. One life so strong yet so fragile. Irreplaceable.
Sorrowing,
Janet+
Yesterday (Sunday) morning, one of my childhood friends received a knock on her door. When she opened it, three uniformed army officers were on her doorstep. "Ma'am, we regret to inform you . . ." Barbie says she can't remember anything after that except that they told her that her husband Mark had been blown up in Afghanistan.
I think it likely that the "regret to inform you" guys didn't actually say, at least as their opening line, that Mark was "blown up." But certainly "blown up" is how everything feels to Barbie and her two kids (one's college-age and one's graduating from high school in June).
Mark was an Army Ranger. He was proud of his work, of the string of grace and good luck and good teamwork that had kept him safe from harm in the midst of dangerous ops for roughly 20 years.
As if to soften the blow, everyone says that we knew that "this" could happen some day. But something inside me screams that surely we must not have really, really KNOWN, or we would have done something more to stop this war . . . and the others. For even this one life is too high a price to pay. One life so strong yet so fragile. Irreplaceable.
Sorrowing,
Janet+
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