Sounds of Hope

I grew up in a Christian home.  My mother was a homemaker who taught children about Jesus.  My dad was a night janitor at a bank who spent most of his “leisure” time going to church service so he could learn more about Jesus. As a child, I saw my father bundle all manner of Christian reading materials – all my Sunday School quarterlies, Christian magazines, etc. – to send to his niece, my Tante Ruth, a single WOMAN who was teaching other’s about Jesus in Swaziland.  One afternoon a week, my father would take me to the Salvation Army where a wonderful WOMAN named Captain Johnson oversaw the Sunbeam program.  As a single woman, she was the “Pastor” of the congregation of Salvationists – she preached, administered, and served her corp as the sole officer.  Walking with my dad we'd often encounter Captain holding a street meeting on a corner. As a child, I read a book about Malla Moe – a single WOMAN missionary who would trek across Africa.  As I got ...

First thing in the morning, as I sit up in bed, I take my iPhone from under my pillow.  Now that I'm not working, I don't need it there as an alarm except on Sunday.  I have it there because all night it has been monitoring my sleep quality.  Last night was really good - 100%!  I have this cool little app that I got called sleep cycle.  It has the best alarm on it and it also monitors your sleep quality.  The more peaks and valleys, the better your sleep!  But this morning, before I could slide the snooze off and see my graph and numbers there were two alerts from my calendar.  Both were reminding me of the same thing - not the luncheon I'm going to later this morning but the day I could never forget.  Today is February 6, 2014.  Today is the 17th anniversary of the day our precious granddaughter went to Jesus.  I have this date set on my calendars because I never want to forget her. I never want to forget the joy of her sweet ...

Yesterday, someone asked me - so, now that you've finished your PhD what are you doing?  I wanted to correct this person and say, no, I don't have a PhD, I have an EdD.  I knew this person thought that my degree of EdD was useless and that only a PhD will do... he is an academic elitist and quite arrogant.  I opted to ignore the PhD part of the question and just answer him. Even though I'm not still working as a teacher I said - I've been teaching at a Technical College.  I'm sure that in his mind he was saying tsk tsk, a technical college.  If I told him that it was a proprietary school that taught welders, electricians, HVAC techs, and a variety of medical programs I am sure that he would have thought - what a waste of time.  I don't like arrogant elitist people.  I think that's why I loved teaching at the school where I've pour my heart into for the last year and a half. By most standards, I'm considered well off.  I live in a nice h...

Two weeks ago I said I was going to start writing… well, didn’t do too good on that one.  At least not yet!  I suppose if you have nothing to say, you shouldn’t say it. I think I’ve heard that before.   Now I’m a pastor.  I’ve been a pastor before but only “sort of.”  By most accounts pastoring a small group in a coffee shop doesn’t really count.  I’ve been pastoral in many ways but without a church.  Just that person people come to with their needs and concerns.  The one with a shoulder people could cry on and find support.   Prone to self-reflections and doubts, I wonder if I am really prepared.  I have the education.  I have the desire.  I have the heart.  Most importantly, I have the “call.”  Now I have somewhat of a stamp of approval from a large denomination.  The church I pastor has a wonderful history, beautiful people, and meets in a lovely white church with a steeple that lights up at night...

I heard an interesting sermon on Monday.  No I wasn't at church when I heard it.  It wasn't from a preacher either.  It was from this very blond, very white, very young, FFA (Future Farmers of America) leader.  If you know me, or have read my blogs, in particular Storehouses of Snow , you know that I am usually not too excited when I have to go to FFA, 4-H, Fairs, Achievement Days, Farm Bureau Events, and the like.  As we pulled up to see the sea of blue jackets, I remembered when I first saw those jackets at Hickman High School.  When I was a kid, there were no FFA Chapters in Brooklyn that I was aware of - this was new.  I would laugh at the Aggies. Later my husband would teach Vo-Ag.  Those blue jackets took his time and attention. He'd leave me for long trips to the State Fair, State Conventions, and the Annual National Convention that always fell on my birthday.  I don't have a long love affair with FFA. FFA, 4-H and the like have alwa...

I've always been a Daddy's girl.  I miss my dad more and more every day.  That may sound odd since he's been gone for nearly 41 years.   Today I've been thinking about how much I still want to be a Daddy's girl.  No, I can't climb on his lap anymore and ride the horsey on his foot while hearing Rida Rida Runka .  I can't snuggle in his arms and hear him say Lille Venn.   I can't beg for the extra piece of lump sugar while having my Biblical knowledge tested with the story of Naaman . I want to be a Daddy's girl by being like my dad.   I have a very eclectic group of friends both in real life and on Facebook.  My scroll on Facebook fills up with all sorts of things - mostly nonsense.  I see things about how to love your pets and why dogs are wonderful.  I see things about politicians.  Unfortunately, I see a lot of hate stuff about people who are different or those who are perceived as enemies.  I see calls to action to r...

Why Lent?  I’ve been ask this question a lot this year.  How does a born and bred Pentecostal decide to observe Lent?  Maybe because I am in contact with more and more people from my past and present who have never considered Lent.  This is not my first year to consider Lenten practices. Several years ago now – probably at least five – I decided to in a small way practice the ancient Christian practice of observing Lent.  I didn’t go for ashes that year nor did fast.  I wasn’t quite ready for that “Catholic” of an experience.  Nor did I understand enough to consider it. That year I had picked up a book at Goodwill.  It was a book by Phyllis Tickle: Eastertide Prayers for Lent through Easter with the Divine Hours .  Five times a day (well, most days) I'd open the book, recite the reading, pray the prayers, etc. Often it was rote; I would read with mind elsewhere.  However, just as often, the Holy Spirit would move in and the time with...

These are the words of John Wesley.  The full quote from his journal of May 24, 1738 is: In the evening, I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans.  About a quarter before nine, while the leader was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ alone   for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away   my   sins, even   mine, and saved   me   from the law of sin and death.    I heard this phrase, my heart strangely warmed , numerous times this weekend at the Wesleyan Theological Society annual meeting on the Trevecca Nazarene University campus in Nashville TN.  It is an oft repeated phrase in Wesleyan circles.  Thousands, if not millions of words, have been written about Wesley’s Aldersgate experience. My heart was strangely warmed...

Riding in a pick-up truck with the love of your life listening to the oldies sure brings back memories. Sprinkled between stories on NPR and country tunes, we found the oldies.  I like to sing along – soon I was singing "Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do."   I remembered the young girl with her transistor radio walking to the candy store with her transistor in hand singin’   "Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.”  She prayed that someone would notice her and that they’d be together every single day.  She prayed that someday she’d live happily ever after. It didn’t happen in Brooklyn.  No one saw her walkin’ down the street.  It was a scant nine years since she’d been   "Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do-ing"   down the streets of Brooklyn .  In that time, she’d been a child bride. Dropped out of high school.  Given birth to two sons.  She’d been divorced.  She’d remarried her childhood husband.  She was beaten and abused. ...

It was time to take the dog for a walk.  As soon as I stepped outside, I heard the neighborhood owl hooting.  Our yard is alive with critters.  We have many moles.  We often see deer in the yard and they leave their evidence all over the yard.  Then there are the birds.  So, many birds call our backyard and the surrounding area home. I like to walk the dog.  I often find it is a time to think about the day, pray, or just think.  I had a lot churning around in my heart and mind today.  I was thinking about the odd and alarming Facebook conversation I generated today. Today is the first day of Lent.  Today is Ash Wednesday.  Being rather new to liturgical calendars and worship, I still come to these days with a lot of thought, prayer, and seriousness.  Perhaps that is the only way to approach a holy season of fasting, penance, reflection, and service.  I chose not to give up something but to add instead.  I decided ...

Life has flow. It starts at a point and flows on to the next and the next. We speak of generations. We speak of milestones where life altering events occur. For most people, the path of life may meander and curve, but it flows in one continuous path. My life isn't like that. My life is full of circles. Like a bad flow chart with seemingly no connections, I left one circle and jumped to the next. Very occasionally one of the circles touches another circle and a loose connection is made. You can see these circles very clearly on Facebook. I belong to the Brooklyn Norwegian group. That group reminds me of my childhood, my dad, the streets of Brooklyn, laughter and joy, as well as sorrow and abuse. I belong to the Salem Gospel and Camp Challenge group - memories of my childhood church fill it's wall. Pictures that remind me of my heritage and memories of first learning about Jesus fill my heart as scan faces so familiar. I have friends who now sort of merge togethe...

I’ve been emotionally revisiting my childhood in Brooklyn a lot these days.  Maybe it is the sign of aging.  Maybe it’s the nostalgia triggered by Facebook and finding old friends.  Maybe it’s the trip to Brooklyn over Christmas and the joy of seeing stoops that I stood on, steps to school that I walked on, and the visions of a young Joyce walking down the street.  Whatever it is, it’s wonderful. There was a question often asked of each other on those Brooklyn streets:   What are you?   Now to the untrained and non-Brooklynite, you might wonder and say something like “I’m a human being.”   You’d probably ask, what do you mean by that?   In Brooklyn, you would answer, “I’m Norwegian or Irish or Polish or Puerto Rican or German or Lithuania.”   Neighborhoods while mixed, often had a dominant ethnic flavor or culture.   Everyone had an identity.  Everyone belonged to one group or another.  I guess we all knew we were Americans b...

I love school.  I suppose anyone who knows me, knows that’s true.  I love to think.  In fact, I think way to much.  I have to analyze everything from every perspective.  Sometimes I wish I could just accept something, not worry about it, and go on.  I am like Mary I guess.  You know, Mary and Martha ?  How many sermons have you heard on that one? They usually go like this – Mary was “worshipping” at Jesus feet – she was a worshipper.  Martha on the other hand was worried about kitchen duties and hospitality.  We should be like Mary.  Amen. No I’m not this extravagant worshiper that can’t serve a meal.  Neither was Mary.  Mary was a student, a thinker, just like me.  Mary was “listening to the words of Jesus.”  I see her hearing him talk.  Sitting with the men (a no-no?) and taking in every word.  Martha, who always gets a bad rap in these sermons, was practicing Eastern hospitality.  She was fulf...