Caffiene, Fair Trade, and Grace

I went to Starbucks this morning to meet a friend for coffee. I am not a regular customer of their admittedly delicious coffee Starbucks for two reasons: I am frugal, and I try to drink only Fair Trade coffee. I was looking forward to this meeting, both because of my friend and because I had read that Starbucks has begun serving some Fair Trade coffee.

When I asked for Fair Trade coffee, I got a quite unexpected answer from the barista: we only brew Fair Trade on the 20th of the month. I found this quite amusing, in a cynical kind of way. Some Starbucks executive must have figured out that the business return on being able to say "we buy Fair Trade coffee" and then serving it once per month was a good business model!

I am reminded of why liberal talk radio failed when broadcast between Rush Limbaugh and Don Imus. I am thinking of why "blended worship" music, encompassing both traditional music and praise music, so often fails. The reasons are the same: nobody is happy. In the case of radio, it's like having an opera station with one hour of rock and roll per day. That one hour is going to anger the opera lovers, and not enough rock and roll listeners will know which hour to tune in. In blended worship music, no body gets the kind of worship experience they crave. So it is, I think, with serving Fair Trade coffee. For people who care about this issue, one day per month is laughable. For people who don't care about this issue, it makes no difference in their loyalty. I don't know- perhaps Starbucks has discovered people who sort of care of Fair Trade and are glad to hear that on some level, Starbucks buys some Fair Trade Coffee.

I suppose the barista did not hear me say "decaf" when I asked for it. I actually thought of going back and verifying that it was decaf, but for whatever reason, I did not. Well, I should have listened to that voice. I have been all jitters ever since. Talk about a high! I haven't had caffeine like that in more than five years. I cannot believe I did not get sick to my stomach (one of the many reasons I stopped). I have been flying all morning...and well into this afternoon, I am still going. No wonder folks love this stuff. I have to confess, I am half tempted to begin drinking it again!

As I was sitting there, drinking my coffee, and waiting for my friend, the barista came by and asked where we knew each other. We worked out that members of her family are a part of our community of faith. She then came back and gave me a free bag of Fair Trade coffee...a gift of grace. (Sadly, it is caffeinated, but it will make a great gift.)

So thanks be to God for caffeine, Fair Trade, and baristas who know me. What a way to start the day!

Bearing False Witness

If you have been reading my blog for a long time, you remember that I wrote about the homeless several times, beginning with this post about the town of Elkton bulldozing a makeshift camp of homeless people's belongings. (And if you have been reading my blog for a long time, I am impressed, because lately it has been lousy! I am trying to make amends. Many thanks for your patience!)

A quick update on how things have developed since that fateful day. The churches have pulled together to create a Rotating Homeless Shelter, which is heading into its second year. The town has been sued for its treatment of these folks. They have also had struck down an attempted ordinance to ban "loitering" aka homeless people walking down the street. Clearly, the Holy Spirit is working. Finally, the Meeting Ground, which has been spearheading all of this, has purchased a commercially zoned home that is perfect for a day center in Elkton. It is the Mary Randall Center.

I read an article yesterday that gave me pause. It was about the growing opposition to the Mary Randall Center. I am not linking the article here because I don't want to single out anyone. Instead, I want to reflect upon one of the ten commandments and its general disregard (as I see it).

The article opened by quoting someone who is opposed to this center opening in his/her neighborhood. The opposition was framed by using the context of saying that s/he has volunteered at another local shelter, but they just don't want it HERE. The implication, of course, is "I have been in relationship with homeless folks, so I know what I am talking about, and I can say this with authority."

I was reminded of another time I heard someone oppose having a shelter near them, and the person used as justification their volunteer work experience in the past to claim authority to speak and opine.

This does not sit well with me. It just feels wrong, but I couldn't quite clarify my thinking as to why. I was venting to a clergy friend, and he put it in words that rang true. He said simply "it's bearing false witness."

It is breaking the 9th commandment.

I know it is false witness, because I too have spent time with folks who need the Mary Randall Center, who need the services it will provide. I have shared meals with them, spent nights in a church building with them, celebrated as some of them have gotten their lives more together, and grieved over one of their untimely deaths. And I am not an authority on this subject by any stretch of the imagination. There are many, many more faithful servants around our county who are in much deeper relationship with the folks who will be helped by the Mary Randall Center.

I don't know a single person who has spent any real time with these folks who isn't touched and changed by the experience. I find that every person has a story, a life, is cherished by God, and every person is deserving of a chance to make things better. And there is no perfect place to do such ministry because there is no place where fear of the unknown and of the outcast does not have a foothold.

I have preached repeatedly that I think the fourth commandment, to keep the Sabbath, is the most often disregarded of the 10 commandments. The 9th Commandment-"You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor" (Exodus 20:16)- would seem a close second.

I am planning to be at the zoning hearing on Thursday October 18 at 7 p.m. at 100 Railroad Avenue in Elkton. I invite you to come and bear faithful witness, and stand in solidarity with God's most precious ones.

Appearances

Raising a little girl who believes she is beautiful just the way God created her is challenging in our society. I know this. It is one of my goals that I shall do all in my power to enable my daughter to believe the truth, that she is lovely however she is, because she is God's.

Anne Lamott has a wonderful chapter on this in her new book, Grace (Eventually) that I am currently enjoying. She talks about the eyes being the window the soul...about how beauty is something that is believed and therefore evidenced in our eyes... regardless of what our appearance looks like as compared to fashion magazines.

But our culture is so appearance focused, that I dread the day that my daughter stops believing me when I say she looks great running out of school in a formal dress, with ripped stockings, and elastic head band sun glasses pushing half of her bangs off of her forehead. Truly, she looks so beautiful, so full of life and abandon. Is there anything more precious a sight than my daughter running toward me a smile of joy?

We try to keep our kids away from as much media garbage as possible, without total deprivation. We do this by allowing them to watch Public Television and Food TV. Disney channel only on the weekends, when Public TV doesn't run kids programs.

On Sunday morning, I was sitting in my office, printing my last draft of my sermon (my usual routine that I go over it one more time, then print). My freshly awake daughter was next to me on the sofa watching "The Wiggles" (after protesting she is much too old for the Wiggles now that she is 5...she agreed to suffer through it for a few more minutes). There was an entire segment about "General GoodBloke" who was coming for a visit. They listed off all of the reasons why General GoodBloke is such a good bloke. All of them had to do with his appearance! He has a coat with shiny buttons, shiny shoes, etc. I hardly remembered all that they said.

So I turned to my daughter and said "isn't that silly? How could they know if he is a good person by what he is wearing?" She giggled at the silliness, and heartily agreed with me.

As I sat there, I thought about how many more messages she must encounter in the course of the average week that tell her that appearances make all the difference. I am sure I counteracted just one of thousands she has already received.

I hope that a few counteractions make up for a few hundred of these messages. And I pray that my kids will know that no matter what, they are beautiful.

Ann Lamott

Well, I just got a copy of Anne Lamott's new book, and I have read about four pages of the preface.... not bad for a few minutes at the dinner table while my son ate his noodles. I am looking forward to some time on Monday, my Sabbath, to really sit and enjoy it.

Anne Lamott is the kind of writer who made me want to blog. I want to be the kind of insightful, faithful, witty writer that she is when it comes to matters of faith. Clearly, I am nowhere close to that bar. Lately, I have not had my muse for blogging. Not quite sure what that is about. Perhaps reading this book will help me. I will either be inspired to continue with renewed vigor or give it up as a lost cause!

End of an Era

Well, it is finally upon me. The day has come when my son has made the choice I dread. Given the choice of "want to snuggle with mommy or get right in your crib?" His reply is "git in my kib." My days of rocking my son to sleep are very very limited. Now they will be based on his whims, and soon he will completely done with rocking.

I knew this day was coming. It came even earlier with my first snuggle bug. Jacob is going to be 3 on Saturday. Shannon was 2 when she began arching her back and pointing to her crib when I would sit down to rock her.

We always talk about how fast these days go, when our children are small. I have done my best to heed these words of wisdom and treasure every snuggle, every moment in a rocking chair with my child's head resting just below my shoulder. And still I find myself with tears in my eyes as I write this. In 9 days time my five year old daughter will be climbing on a school bus and going to all day Kindergarten.

I have always tried to keep a right perspective on raising children. It will occupy about 20 years of my life. If I live to be 80, that is only one quarter of my days spent focused upon raising my kids, and there are many other ways of living and being that God calls me to, in addition to being a parent. My true identity is found in Christ, and my identity as a mother is one aspect of who God has called me to be.

But no matter how much perspective I try to claim, there is no denying the special sacredness that comes with being a mother of young children.

Virtues of an Inflatable Pool

I have a confession to make: I am a swimming pool snob. I was raised in a planned community of dozens of housing developments, served by seven fabulous outdoor swimming pools. These were complete with concrete decks, chairs, bath houses, vending machines, and regular visits from the ice cream trucks. I spent my summers walking to one of the 2 pools nearest my home, and later bicycling to wherever my friends were meeting. I was playing in swimming pools that were all competitive length pools with diving boards, etc. One was even an Olympic length across. Later, as a teenager, I spent my summer life guarding and coaching a swim team.

I learned many valuable lessons from these summers and I have lots of very happy memories. I wouldn't change it.

But, this has also had a few negative consequences. One is that I have poor tolerance for a cloudy or poorly maintained swimming pool- public or private. The other is that I greatly prefer large, public sized pools to back yard pools, because in my mind, these are the only ones that are any fun. Isn't this awful? On top of this, I am serving in a county with no similar services. Even the YMCA has only an indoor pool.

So I have been adjusting to life without a swimming pool to which I am accustomed. And guess what I have discovered? The virtues of an inflatable back yard swimming pool.

As I write this, my children, ages 5 and 3, are playing happily and safely in an inflatable pool in my back yard. There are several advantages to this situation:
1. They can run all they want to and we don't have to tell them to stop
2. The water is nice and cold on a HOT summer day- it comes from our well and has not been sitting in the pool all summer
3. It is nice and clean- it 's easy to maintain without any chemicals!
4. I don't have to put on a bathing suit if I don't want to
5. If I do put on a suit, I don't have to be seen by anyone
6. The kids have fun jumping out of the pool, onto the swing set, and back again
7. The kids can leap and splash and not bother anyone else.
8. Inflatable = cheap (like $20 on sale cheap)
9. When the kids get tired, they can come right in, eat lunch, take a nap, whatever. And they get good and tired!
10. No real risk of drowning (slight, slight)... the adult on duty can do other things like hang out laundry or even sit in the AC and watch out the window.

So I say hooray for no access to a large swimming pool and the invention of the inflatable back yard pool. I think life really is a lot simpler than I let it be sometimes.

Vacation and Harry Potter

I am home now from a week in South Bethany beach. The weather was almost all wonderful, and it was so great to relax. A week in South Bethany, with our family who generously host us, is always a week full of sand, sun, games, delicious food, and good conversation. What a blessing.

For me, it was also a week full of reading Harry Potter. I re-read the 5th and 6th books in the series in preparation for the new release. I have not typically been much of a re-reader, but I found that I really enjoyed it. Perhaps my reading habits will change a bit.

I finished the final book in the series last night. It was excellent. I was talking with a friend here in church, and she mentioned that there have been several local folks writing into the newspaper proclaiming that Rowling is going to hell, and generally decrying Harry Potter.

(Note: while I am not giving away the ending here, I am commenting on the themes, which could give you some pretty good guesses. If you have not yet read the book and plan to, you may not want to read the following paragraphs.)

I find this positively baffling. My suspicion (verified by some experience) is that many folks who "oppose" Harry Potter have not read any of the books. The series is full of Christian themes. These include serving others, sacrificing for the greater good, eschewing materialism, caring most about relationships with others, being willing to lay down your life for your friends, and battling sin and evil. In this last book, the references to the afterlife in heaven as well as sacrificial death are especially strong. Willingly dying so that others may live is at the heart of the gospel...there is no gospel without it. This theme is also at the heart of the Harry Potter book. There is no Harry Potter without it.

My befuddlement increases when I wonder why The Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Narnia (also chock full of Christian themes) get embraced by most Christians, while Harry Potter is shunned by so many. My fear is it is because too many of us are too easily led. If media hype and some key Christian voices give their blessing, it must be OK. If the opposite occurs, it must be bad.

At the heart of the Christian Reformation, which flowed out of the Enlightenment, was a rejection of the Church thinking for people. The Reformation championed several important ideas, two of which I find relevant now. First is reading the Scripture for oneself (sola scriptura) which says that Scripture is the foundation of Christian interpretation, and should be read and interpreted by the faithful in their native language. Second, there is the priesthood of all believers which says that we all have a direct line to the Spirit, no intermediate priest required.

If Protestants (those Christians who are not Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox) are to remain faithful to who we are, then we must take seriously our identity as people who study and discern the will of God together, believing the Holy Spirit is guiding us if we study in faith together. To be true to who we are, we must study the Scripture ourselves (together in community and alone...not just alone), and use our God given reason, experience, and our tradition, to come to conclusions. Simply taking the word of another without our own study and reflection does not bring us closer to God or into clearer understanding.

I think Christians have an opportunity to use Harry Potter as a way to study, grow, and reach out. It saddens me to think it will instead be used as an opportunity to condemn, shun, and generally turn people away from the love of Christ.

Nice home Mommy

My almost three years old son Jacob has been making real strides in talking. He has been speech delayed, and this week the speech therapist was positively delighted with his progress after just 2 weeks time.

Some recent highlights of his learning to talk have included:
1. saying "bye bye my home" whenever Daddy pulls out of the driveway with the kids
2. spontaneously saying "nice day" after a fun day that concluded with dinner at his grandparents' home
3. receiving his Dad's compliment on how good he looked in his new Blue Rocks baseball cap by saying "oh yeah baby" (as he hears Emeril on FoodTV!)
4. and this morning, coming up with "nice home, Mommy" which he said several times this morning.

It is a nice home. We are blessed to live here. As I begin my fifth year of service in Chesapeake City, I can feel my roots growing stronger and deeper. I have now served here longer than any other church family. I keep telling folks that I hope to make it to double digits in number of years served.

I often hear God through repetition. When one theme presents itself multiple times from various sources, I try to pay attention. Lately, the idea of loving wherever I am, wholeheartedly, because God is here, has been speaking to my heart.

And so I say with my son Jacob: Nice home.

Perspective on Civil Rights

This week I spent a week at Camp Pecometh, our Christian Camp in the Conference. I worked hard to try to get Middle School kids to study the Bible without falling asleep. For the most part, they were awake.

On Wednesday, the passage for the day was from the Sermon on the Plain in Luke 6. It is the passage where Jesus talks about loving your enemies, blessing those who curse you... one of the hard ones. One girl literally exclaimed out loud as she was reading. (She was awake!) It is shocking stuff to those who have never read it before.

Naturally, my attempt to keep them awake involved trying to relate the Scripture to every day life. The Campers were a fairly diverse lot; since the Civil Rights movement had this text at the backbone of the movement, I figured this was the way to go.

For the majority of kids, the Civil Rights movement was as relevant as WW2! I was shocked. You would have thought this was arcane history I was referring to. They tried valiantly to recall some details. Mostly, they succeeded in remembering Rosa Park and the bus boycott. Once that was on the table, the march on Washington came to mind. Then sometimes, they would know about the marches, beatings, fire hoses, and jail cells. But not always.

I still cry when I heard the voice of Martin Luther King, Jr. preaching, especially the "I Have a Dream" sermon. For years, I had the text of this sermon posted on my refrigerator (although lately children's art work has crowded it out). I think of how the Civil Rights movement to contributes to the lexicon of our society, our politics, our court decisions, our lives. Musical artists I love, most notably U2, have used the Civil Rights Movement as inspiration for lyrics. For me, it is living, breathing stuff. And I was not alive during the movement. I was born in 1971.

So I was shocked to learn that for these kids, it is just a chapter in history. As I think about the timing, I guess they are chronologically about as far away from the Civil Rights movement as I am from the Second World War. And that war always seemed like history that happened well before my time.

I am recovering from my shock, now that it has been a few days. And I am trying to convince myself that this has an upside. After all, the idea that segregation and racism are not a divisive, hate inspiring issue is progress. I remember as a child a local African American broadcaster giving an editorial and making the claim that once color is no longer an issue, and no longer in need of conversation and court decisions, we will have finally made it to the Promise Land. But we're not there yet, by any stretch of the imagination. I witness too many instances of racism to think otherwise. Honestly, I am hoping that by the time I am a grandmother we may be there. Time will tell.

Motherhood and Ministry

I have not been blogging as actively, as you may have noticed. I do go through weeks where blogging once per week is about all I get to. This most recent stint has been due to pastoral care emergencies/ tragedies/crises. I have not spent this many concentrated hours in tears and prayer for such circumstances in a long time- perhaps ever.

Last night, I was at the hospital with a family and a friend of a woman who had nearly succeeded in her suicide attempt. After I got home around 11:15, I sat on the sofa with munchies watching TV, winding down. I did not get to sleep until after midnight. After a somewhat sleepless, allergy filled night, I awoke this morning to several hours of catching up on email work. By lunchtime, I was tired!

So, I treated myself to a nap. I got into bed and slept for two hours. It was heavenly.

God bless my children- they just want to be around me. My oldest is able to contain herself when she knows that I am asleep. Not so for my son. The minute Ray got on the telephone, he took advantage of his opportunity. He dashed into the bedroom...and began throwing up on me. Apparently, his mad dashing caused him to choke on a wheat thin. He flung open the door, ran over to me, and began wretching. Poor guy. He was sobbing. My sheets needed washing. I needed washing. He only needed a new shirt. Neat little guy he is.

So off we went to the bathroom. I just got into the tub because that was about all I had in me. Ray came in, fresh off the telephone, to report another tragedy. Yet as we sat there, in the bathtub, with me covered in regurgitated wheat thins, and my son in my lap, all I could do was laugh! God works in mysterious ways.