Sounds of Hope

I am continuing to learn what it means to be a Methodist.  I have become at home with the Methodist. It is the group that I have chosen to fellowship in community with – it is where my spiritual journey has taken me.  Last night, I went to my first “Charge Conference.” For those of you, like me, who have no idea what that is, it is sort of like their “annual business meeting.”  I’ve been to a whole lot of business meetings. I’ve served as a trustee.  I’ve served in some unofficial capacity of reminding the pastor to get ready for the annual business meeting.  I’ve typed the reports and compiled them.  I’ve taken minutes and participated in more business meetings than I care to remember. I’ve seen a lot of dispute at business meetings in church basements.  Questions, concerns, legitimate or not… on and on they went for hours.  Pontificating members with grandiose ideas in conflict with pompous members who had better ideas marred the meetings....

I had my emotional armor on all day yesterday.   Once I finally went to sleep last night, I fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion.   Emotional exhaustion drains you in ways that physical labor never could.   I could sense my attitude.   It was BAD… I was BA Lighari yesterday.   My emotional armor protected me as well as kept a lid on any eruptions. Class always starts with a devotional.   He picked a passage I’d memorized as a child.   I was zoning out until he asked what scornful meant – what does it mean to sit in the seat of the scornful – who are those people you don’t want to be around… hmm, not sure I agree with his interpretation but I perked up when someone said – you don’t want to be around “crybabies.” It rankled me.   I guess because I have shed so many tears and know that God collects my tears in His bottle.   I guess because I know the value of tears.   I was annoyed at the minimization of people whose pain causes them to...

It was the first year I walked the three short blocks and one and a half long blocks to PS 94 alone.  My BFF was taking several buses to a new school for smart children.  I missed her.  I wondered why she had to be so smart and leave me.   Everything at PS94 was big.  As I would crouch in the hallway with my head tucked under my arms for the air raid drills, I couldn’t imagine those massive doors collapsing.  In the fourth grade, I had the seat in front of one of those doors.  Mrs. Cedar presided over a corner room, near the staircase.  Rather than opposite the windows, the massive wooden closet that housed our coats and galoshes was in a narrow hallway that led to our room.  I had the first seat in the first row.  Since the door was always open, I had a view of those coming up and down the stairs as well as the slop sink.  Now for those of you who do not know what a slop sink is, it was a deep sink on every floor where you c...

Many religious traditions have set times for prayer.  The discipline of bowing one’s heart to God at a set time is something I’ve tried to cultivate with limited success.  Following the ancient Christians in the Daily Office is a desire of mine.  Yet, it’s discipline does not come easy for me. The entrance to our subdivision - picture taken from our driveway Our dog is walked twice a day.  Today it is very fall like.  There has been rain and the sky is grey.  The brilliant colors on the trees are muting.  But the birds… oh the birds… sometimes the cacophony of their sound is near deafening.  We have a chorus of birds that sing in the morning and sing in the evening.  Having a Franciscan bent, I thought, yes, little bird, praise God!  It seems that nature responds to the call to worship at sunrise and dusk.  Today as I walked our large yard I marveled at all I saw.  I can’t imagine those who walk but don’t see.  I ...

You know the old saying "Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained?"  Well, a lot of times I venture - no one can accuse me of not venturing... however, I get very frustrated because I thought if I ventured, I'd gain... that hasn't been the case much of the time.  Now before you say - Oh there she goes again... this is not yet another lament of mine. Many of you have seen the pictures of the pies and cakes, etc., that I post on Facebook.  I even have one endorsement on Facebook "Branch Out" - it says,  “She makes great pastries!”   It's true.   I do...  She was a customer in my coffee shop.  I used to make amazing food - breakfasts, including huge omelets with spinach, feta, and mushrooms - and then there was those Pumpkin Spice Waffles with Cinnamon Butter - OMG, my mouth is watering... My chicken salad was known as the best and so popular I had to start selling it by the pound.  Once I was asked if I could ship it out of state - I think th...

I like to think I’m not terrible thin skinned.  It’s a myth.  I rather think the reality is that it’s a myth for most people. We are human.  We get hurt.  We hear something, read something, and all those mines in our emotional field go off.  Sometimes they all go off at once.  Other times, it’s one or two.  The booby-traps are everywhere.  Sometimes some unwitting (or sometimes dimwitted) person in a store triggers a life-time of feelings. That happened a lot in South Dakota.  A trip to Hy-Vee or Wal-Mart in Brookings SD usually resulted in my swearing to myself the whole way home. Other times it is a remark that you know isn’t personal but somehow, it gets under your skin.  It just sort of sits there – like an unattended wound, it festers. Last night two mines exploded in my heart.  My mood went from good to bad very quickly.  You try to remove yourself from the trigger but once it has been pulled, it is impossible to stop....

Maybe you've seen this scene from Madmen as the Kodak Carousel is introduced.   If not, go here and watch it and then come back to the blog. In Greek, nostalgia literally means, a pain from an old wound .  In someways, this blog has been about nostalgia.  Even those topics of current inspiration draw life from the past.  You never escape where you came from or who you were.  We change, we grow but somehow the past is always with us beckoning us to remember. I think the pain we feel as we recall the past is cause not by the wound by knowing we can't go back.  We see visions of the past and we want to go back. We want to go back not because we made some horrible mistake and need a do-over.  Rather we want to go back to experience the joy, the wonderment, the excitement, or any of the myriad of human emotions that can explode at anytime.  While a small substitute for time travel back to that moment, a memory can cause us to relive such joy and so...