Going home, part 2

This past weekend I went home for the second time in two weeks.  The first time was to visit my parents in the town where I grew up.  This time I went to the town where I spent my last year of college and another six years, prior to entering seminary.  I wasn't originally going to be a minister, you know.  From the time I was very young I wanted to work in a hospital laboratory, just like my aunt did before me.  In college, I majored in Medical Technology and trained at a wonderful hospital.  And when I graduated, I went to work as a blood bank technologist, just like I always dreamed I would.

There I met a wonderful woman who graduated the year before me, and when she was ready to get an apartment close to the hospital, she invited me to share it with her.  And for six years we shared our living space and our lives.  Eventually, she met a nice man, and after I left for seminary, they got engaged and then married.  But in the years before that, it was Rachel and Bill and me, usually traveling in three separate cars wherever we went.  

They were the first to encourage me when I answered my call to ministry, first as a lay missioner, then as a ministerial candidate.  They helped me load up a U Haul and drove me to Durham to start school at Duke Divinity School   A year later I went home to be in their wedding.  After that my trips were usually overnight visits on my way to and from my parents' when they lived in Alabama.  

A few years ago Bill retired from Clemson University and Rachel continued to work at the same hospital where we trained.  Their lives had the same rhythm that they had had for 25 years.  My life was totally different.  Since leaving there in 1987, I have lived in 11 different towns, 10 states and one foreign country.  My world view expanded by the variety and quantity of the people I met and the different places I visited.  They were a family who lived in the same house where Bill grew up as a child.  Me, I don't even know where I'll be in another year or two, or what we'll be doing when Shawn retires.

Bill died last week of complications from diabetes.  He had not been well since this April, but I didn't know because we hadn't talked in a while.  But Friday, when I was sitting at my computer thinking about dinner, I received an email from Rachel informing me of his death.  And in that moment, I knew I had to go.  And I'm so glad I did.

I saw a lot of people from my past this weekend.  Previous colleagues from the hospital and church members greeted me as a long lost friend or relative.  Over 200 people crowded the small, country church where his funeral was held.  It was a testimony to the love and respect that people had for him.  And I was really humbled when the minister invited me to officiate at the committal service, where for the first time in a long time, I was able to look into the faces of those who first recognized my call and sent me into the world to preach and teach in the name of Jesus.

And so to all of them, and to God, I say "Thank You."  I live this amazing life - not one that I ever imagined for myself - and I'm able to do it where I do, in the way I do, in large part because of them.  It's hard to fathom that 28 years ago, my roommate's boyfriend invited me to church and I went.  And it started a cascade of events that tumbled onward to this very day.

Lesson Learned:  Never underestimate the power that you have to affect other people... to bring about change in people's lives... to encourage them... to help them take a road less traveled.  Be a blessing, indeed!

"Therefore, if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort in love, any sharing in the Spirit, any sympathy, complete my joy by thinking the same way, having the same love, being united, and agreeing with each other.  Don't do anything with selfish purposes but with humility think of others as better than yourselves.  Instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others." (Philippians 2:1-4 in the Common English Bible)

Reflections on tragedy and recovery

No surprise to anyone that we just passed the 10th anniversary of the terror attacks of September 11, 2001.  Our country has been building up to this memorial observance, and not surprisingly, controversy has surrounded celebrations.  And yet, as I watched on television and attended local worship services and remembrances, I am struck by the level of spiritual depth that surrounded the days' proceedings.

I love that ceremonies at the three crash sites public officials and ordinary people shared scripture, songs, prayers and personal reflections, most of which were deeply rooted in the spiritual language and meaning.  I was touched and moved by the silences, which allowed those watching to remember the day in their own ways.  I love that in interviews with architects and builders and project managers they talked about an  investment in helping the country heal and recover from the tragedies, but never at the expense of sweeping the horrible facts under the rug.

I love that when I went to an interfaith service in my DC suburb, we prayed in English, Hebrew and Arabic.  We listened to reading from the Old and New Testaments, the Talmud and the Koran. We heard testimonies from those who survived the Pentagon attack and wonderful poems written espeically for the occasion.  We prayed in unison and read responsively.  And in the end we sang together, "God Bless America"... all of us - Christian, Muslim and Jew.  It was just right.

I want so badly to be able to say something profound... to be able to quote scripture or a famous author that would make all that has happened in the world make sense.  But all I can think of is having the feeling deep in my soul that I was not meant to understand it all at once - the pain, the suffering, or even the solutions to the problems we share.  Gradually the question, "Why did this happen?" is replaced with "How do I respond?"  And in the meantime I have come to believe that I can only live life one day at a time, and be ready to be an instrument of God's love and grace in all things.  Believe me, it's a work in progress.

Peace, Deb

2 Peter 3: 8-13 "Don’t let it escape your notice, dear friends, that with the Lord a single day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a single day.  The Lord isn’t slow to keep his promise, as some think of slowness, but he is patient toward you, not wanting anyone to perish but all to change their hearts and lives.  But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. On that day the heavens will pass away with a dreadful noise, the elements will be consumed by fire, and the earth and all the works done on it will be exposed.  

         Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what sort of people ought you to be? You must live holy and godly lives, waiting for and hastening the coming day of God. Because of that day, the heavens will be destroyed by fire and the elements will melt away in the flames.  But according to his promise we are waiting for a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness is at home."

You can go home... it's just different

This weekend we drove from DC to the upstate of SC to see my parents.  It had been over 18 months since Shawn had seen them, and we came to find they are fully entrenched in their new life.  Most of their time is engaged in their backyard garden.  They have turned all of their flowerbeds into vegetable plots.  This year they are excelling at tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, okra, and eggplant... lots of eggplant.  Evidence of their green thumbs comes to full realization when you check out their 17 cubic foot freezer, packed to the very top with the literal fruit of their hard work.  It's good to know that if we run into a disaster of some kind, they and their friends will not go hungry.

In addition to the tomatoes, peppers and eggplant, they sent us home with the rest of their rhubarb, frozen collard greens, tomato sauce, and corn.  And they took us to their favorite orchard to buy some wonderful Spartanburg County peaches, freestone and so sweet that they didn't even need sugar.  Today I spent a lot of the day "putting up" the bounty.  After an afternoon's work, we have 12 quarts of peaches, 6 pints of rhubarb, 4 meals of eggplant (only for me, you know) and fresh corn off the cob in OUR freezer.

It reminded me of the work that we did each summer when I was a kid, harvesting the bounty from our garden and the one my grandmother kept.  We jarred a lot of pickles, we cooked a lot of okra and tomatoes... you never knew what would be the work of the day.  I didn't really care much for being "free labor" at the time, but it has served me well since then.  Whenever I have the freezer space I make special packages to get us through the winter, On year it was 20 pints of apple sauce and 8 premade pies.  Another year it was shucking, blanching and cutting off 150 ears of corn, boy were my hands sore.

For all intents and purposes, I left home after I graduated from high school and never spent longer than a summer vacation living with my parents again.  Not only did I move away, but they did, too.  In fact they have moved four times since I left home.  So when I went to visit before, it wasn't really "going home."  And when I went back to my hometown, it didn't feel like home because my parents weren't there.  Now, 34 years later, my hometown finally feels like home again.  I doubt that I will ever live there again, but then again, I can only imagine what God has in store for us.

Here are somethings I realized on my recent journey into the past.  I thought you might have felt some of the same things.

• I love that there are people who have the same shaped feet as me.
• I love it that when my mom wants to tell a funny story, she cracks herself up before she can even get a word out of her mouth.
• And I love that it only takes a few words for me or my dad or brother or sister to figure out what story she's trying to tell so that we can pick up with what she was trying to say.
• I love that my dad still goes to the car 15 minutes before he told us he wanted to leave.
• And how that accounts for me always being early wherever I go.
• I love that my brother lives close by and checks on them everyday, at least by phone.
• I love that my dad loves dogs, but has finally realized he can love other people's dogs without bringing one home.
• I love that they have a wonderful church family with many friends from 35 years ago and new ones, too.  
• I love that my dad goes to Sunday school each week and even reads his lesson in advance.
• I love that my mom is still substituting as a church organist all over town.
• I love that some things never change, like Wade's Restaurant and the Beacon Drive-In, but that new things are good, too, like the little crepe restaurant, Mon Amie, where we had a great brunch on Sunday morning.
• I love that my parents are in great health at 77 and 84, and that they both worked until just three years ago doing jobs they loved.
• I love that they have been married 53 years, and that most of them have been happy.
• I love that they love Shawn and he loves them, too.
• I love that I want to be just like them when I grown up.

I'm not saying that I am the perfect child or that they were the perfect parents, but I am grateful for all the gifts that they have given me, including life and love and respect for all the gifts of my life.

Honoring mother and father is a long part of our religious culture, as passed on through the ten commandments in the Hebrew Bible and the writings of Paul in the New Testament.  I just ask for as many opportunities as possible to share this love with them in person.

Peace, Deb

Ephesians 6:1-3   Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. “Honor your father and mother”—which is the first commandment with a promise— “so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.”