Listening Between the Lines

My first congregation was a three-point parish in rural South Dakota.  Three points meant that there were three churches.  Two of them were in tiny towns, and one of them was out in the country.

I lived in one of those tiny towns, in a large parsonage across from the church.  According to the sign on the way into town, the population was 90, but a few of us counted one day (on election day, I think) and we came up with 63.   There was a main street, which held the remains of a bank, the post office and Gizzy's bar.  There were also several open spaces where buildings used to be.  A little farther up there used to be a school.  There was no gas station, and there was no longer a grocery store.  There was still a park and a town hall.  We held Vacation Bible School there.

The town used to be bigger.  I heard stories, and I read some.  I saw old pictures of the glory days.  Four railroads used to intersect in this town.  There were once four churches, too.   The community was settled by Bohemians and by Norwegian farmers.  It was a lively place.

I used to go and visit people who were members of my congregation, but didn't live in town any more.  Some of them lived in nursing homes, or had moved to a slightly larger town nearby.  They often asked me how the town was doing.

"I guess there's not much use for the small towns anymore," they would say.

I heard this sentence, almost exactly the same, so many times, until it finally occurred to me that perhaps they were not just talking about the small towns.

Perhaps what they really feared was that there was not much use for them any more, that the things they valued, that the work they did, that the life they lived would slip away, and mean nothing, in the end.

"I guess there's not much use for the small towns any more."

What do you say?  It seems to be true that there is not much use for the small towns any more.  But I am listening between the lines, now, and I want to tell them that there is still a use for your life, that there is use and a value for your life that goes beyond this life, that lasts forever.  I want to hold that old man's hand and tell him that all is not lost, that what he did and who he was had meaning, that his name is written in the book of life.  I want to tell that old woman that her life has borne fruit, even though the town she loved is mostly gone.

In ministry now, in the midst of change, I am wondering about what it would mean to begin listening between the lines more often.  I wonder what it would mean to listen to what people tell me, and wonder what their real fears and hopes are, what they are really saying.  Perhaps it would mean to listen with less judgment and more grace.  Perhaps it would mean to acknowledge the fear and walk right into the darkness, carrying a light.

Bold Speech

So, yesterday I was invited to lead the December Bible study at one of the Women's Circles.

They've been inviting me every December for many years, but I always feel honored.  It's their annual pot luck, so I get to share lunch with them as well as lead the Bible study.  They all make salads and Christmas goodies.  They always begin by standing in a circles and holding hands, singing "Be Present at Our Table, Lord."

This year, at lunch, someone passed around old pictures they had found from almost 20 years ago.  The Circle was much bigger then.  Some of the women have died, and others have moved; a couple of them simply don't come any more.  I remembered how there used to be two tables set for lunch, back when I started coming to their December meeting.  So we spent some of our time during lunch remembering some of the people we missed, and sharing stories.

When it came time for the Bible study, the few of us moved to a sofa and chairs.  Two of the women in our group have macular degeneration now, and can't share in the reading of the scripture.  They listen, and participate in other ways.

Our Bible study yesterday was from Acts 4, the end of the story about Peter and John healing a man and then brought before the authorities, who demand that they stop talking about Jesus.  In the very end of the story, the disciples all get together and they pray:  and they ask God for boldness so that they can continue to tell the good news they know.  At the end of the prayer, there's an odd detail:  the apostles actually can feel the earth shaking beneath them.

For what it's worth, I don't think of the word "Bold" when I consider this group of elderly women, some of them frail.  They are quiet Lutherans, and they don't seem the type to make waves.  I was wondering just how this Bible study, with several questions about "Bold Speech", was going to go.

At one point, though, I asked them to tell me what was something really important about their faith, about God, about Jesus.  They all said, mostly in their quiet way, about how their faith keeps them going, about how they couldn't get through the days without it.  One woman ( the youngest in the group) got a little more specific by saying it was the unconditional love and forgiveness of God that was most important to her.

I thought:  this may not seem like a big deal, but it is.  If you aren't old yet, you may not realize that growing old is not for sissies.  When people say that the unconditional love and forgiveness of God for them gets them through each day, they are actually saying a lot.  Older people are dealing with a lot of things:  they are grieving the deaths of family and friends, they are going blind, they are dealing with pain.  And it is the unconditional love and forgiveness of God that keeps them going.

That's what they said.

I said, you know, that might just be the most important thing to be bold about.  Because in this world, love and unconditional forgiveness, unfortunately, are not the first words most people think of when they think of Christians.

Growing old is not for sissies, that's the truth, and I could see it in the lives of the women gathered in that circle.  I suspect that every age has its pains, though.  Life is not for sissies.  The truth worth sharing is this:  we need all of the unconditional love and forgiveness we can get.

It's worth being bold about, at any age.  It might even be earth-shaking.

Road Bumps on the Way to Better Health

Our family has recently taken the step of joining a local health organization, which has several benefits.  Chief among them is the opportunity for my husband and I to go swimming a few times a week.  When we first joined at the end of October, we were motivated and found the time to swim about three times a week, which was pretty impressive.  Then my husband fell and sprained his wrist in the great ice storm of November 2010, and a few days later I caught a cold, and suddenly, we were out of the habit of regular exercise.

But after a brief span of backsliding, we determined to get back into the habit, despite the cold weather and our busy schedules.  (my evening work schedule makes scheduling pool time challenging at times.)  I got a bad cold right after Christmas, but I was feeling a bit better after a few days, so we headed back to the "Y" to swim.

The next morning, I was all stuffed up and sneezing again. 

I thought I was suffering a relapse of my cold, and fussed and fumed a bit, and took an antihistamine, which cleared up the problem, but made me feel as if I had been hit over the head with a sledge hammer.

However, I've had the same exact thing happen every single time we've gone swimming. 

Since high school, swimming has been my favorite form of exercise.  I'll admit it has its drawbacks -- especially when it's about 20 below zero.  But I've enjoyed the water ever since lake swimming as a little girl, and when I'm swimming in the pool, I'm only competing with myself.  Unlike most competitive sports, I feel like I'm good at swimming.

(I've also walked for exercise, but plantar faschiatis has cut into that in the last year or so.)

I've spent a couple of middle-of-the-night computer sessions looking into the swimming/sneezing connection, and discovered that I am not alone. 

Some people wear nose clips.
Others rinse with saline.
Some people take an antihistamine.
(I suppose there are others who use a combination of all three solutions.)

I guess that getting healthy is not for sissies, especially if you are over fifty.