Playing

I have had several ideas for my first post since I returned. I walked into my office to find it cleaned up and a big welcome back banner with notes from our commuity. What a gift!

I am preaching on the Kingdom of Heaven today from Matthew...always thought stirring.

But this morning, I am thinking of the conversation with my daughter last night, and it keeps coming back to me.

We are often the last two at the table becuase she is a slow eater. She brought up the subject of playing with younger kids. She told me, again, that she likes to play with older kids, not younger ones. Why does she have to play with younger kids? I asked how she would feel if the older kids she likes to play with decided they don't like playing with her?

I explained that it's not an option to play only with older kids...as a Christian, she is nice to everyone.

Then I asked about her younger brother: "What about Jacob? You like playing with him"

Her reply was "yeah, but I love him."

Ahhh... love... it makes all the difference.

Sweet Special Boy

I think it must be the age- our 3 1/2 year old son has been especially endearing this month. I remember our daughter often said wonderfully endearing things around this age too.

The first was a few weeks ago. I call my kids "sweet special boy" and "sweet special girl." I was putting Jacob down for a nap, and I said "I love you, sweet special boy." He replied "I love you sweet special Mommy girl." My heart melted.

He's no slacker. I retold that story enough that he caught on how it impressed me. So he has kept saying it. He even said "thank you sweet special Mommy girl" for something I gave him as a treat he probably should not have had. Talk about winding me around his finger.

Whenever I tuck him into bed, he now says "I love you sweet special mommy girl."

He is also into rock collecting. It is almost impossible to set foot outdoors with him, without him scooping up rocks and sharing them. As I was on my way to church one morning, he handed me a rock he had collected somewhere along the way. He said "here Mommy, this is for you to remember that I love you." I kept it in my pocket all day, and smiled a lot.

The next day, I pulled out the rock and I asked him if he remembered what he had said the day before. He smiled very big as I repeated his words. Then he added, "and so you remember God loves you."

I'll be carrying the rock with me forever I think. It will certainly be going with me to Minneapolis for the Festival of Homiletics this week.

Thanksgiving Gift

I received a precious gift this morning. It came in the form of a phone call from a woman I first met more than eight years ago. She was a member of the church I served before coming to Chesapeake City. Laura (not her real name) was a woman who was seeking after all the big answers when we first met. She was depressed, unhappy in her marriage, struggling with her nearly grown children, and genuinely trying to figure out how to live well. She and I spent many hours together in worship, Bible study, service, and around her kitchen table. I came to care deeply for her.

I like to joke that I never received my magic God wand in the mail. I had hoped it would finally arrive when I was ordained, but alas, it seems to have gotten lost in the mail. I have so many uses for a magic God wand!

In absence of that, I listened, prayed, and tried to love Laura. She tried to figure out how to open herself up to God and learn to trust and to be loved.

She called this morning to say thank you for letting God use me to bless her. She has relocated a bit north. She has accepted her marriage for what it is, and is not. She has accepted her children. Most of all, she has been blessed by her relationship with God. She even landed in my home church. Small world.

As we were studying Scripture this morning, the lectionary gospel lesson is the crucifixion story in Luke 23. Just after Jesus cries out "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing" the guards begin casting lots for his clothing. They don't even register what Jesus has just said. Then someone challenges Jesus to save himself, if he is who he says it is. But that was not the appointed hour. The appointed hour was still three days away, when he would rise, overcoming sin and death. How difficult it must have been to endure the time for what it was, trusting God in the midst of his suffering.

Every time I sit, listen, cry, and pray with someone, I long for God to heal them, to heal me, to end this difficult time. Usually, it is not yet the time. The healing, the resurrection, is coming. But I spend most of my time in the not yet. What a gift to be given another glimpse of God's faithfulness, love, and healing.

Happy Thanksgiving.