Storms, Death, and Other Things I Can't Control

Sunday night we heard there might be storms heading our way, so we decided to stay in South Dakota for an extra night and head out Monday morning instead.  This was a decision that I regretted then on Sunday evening when it started hailing and everyone in the hotel was instructed to gather in the foyer.  We heard there might be tornados.  I considered if we had started out that we might have gotten ahead of the storm, and not have to worry about our car being picked up out of the parking lot and deposited somewhere else. 

All week I have been watching the news from our northern city of Duluth, all of the storms and the raging water, the floods that have broken up roads and swallowed up cars.  The power and the destruction were so unbelievable.  Duluth and the North Shore are familiar places to us; we have visited often and never experienced anything like this. 

The power of a storm:  that's the gospel reading from Mark -- a simple and elemental story of the power of nature, the power of fear, and the power of a Word.  I like this story because a storm is such a good metaphor, you know?  "the storms of life" -- we all have them, those things outside of ourselves we cannot control.  There are more of them than we know.

It would be nice to have a Word to say:  "Peace!  Be Still." or something like that.  It would be nice to have a Word to say when the roads buckle, and the rain keeps coming down, and we need to know that there is a Lord of the wind and rain, someone who reigns over Life and Death, over all the things we can't control. 

Wednesday afternoon the rain stopped, I heard, although they will be cleaning up for some time still.  Wednesday afternoon I drove to the hospital to see a man who was taken off of life support.  He has been battling cancer for many years.  He has lived without both kidneys.  He has lived by faith. 

When I got to the hospital, there were many people who loved him gathered there.  His father came and kissed him on the forehead.  Someone said, "He is rich."  He seemed to nod.  I made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and said,  "You are sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked by the cross of Christ forever."  And then this Word,  Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the Life.  the one who believes in me, even though he die, yet he shall live."

Peace.  Be Still.

Visiting the Dying on Ash Wednesday

Today was Ash Wednesday.  I have the cross of ashes on my forehead to prove it.  I heard again the words, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  I said the same words this evening and made crosses on babies and on a man in a wheelchair, on a young couple I had never seen before, on a woman whose cancer has returned, on another woman whose husband now lives in a nursing home, on teenage triplets, on a single mom and her son.  "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  These words mark and form the day, no matter what else I do.  And usually the day gets consumed with the worship services (we have three) and all the preparation for them. 

Today, between the worship services, I spent some time at a home nearby, praying and giving communion to one of my parish members.  He and his wife had been in my office not a month ago, telling me of his diagnosis.  We talked and prayed and they wrote down a few of his wishes for his funeral.  I found out that he had been in the navy long ago, but never on the sea.  He was a navy flyer.  Yesterday they called and said they wanted me to visit.  So today I came with communion and with scripture readings.  "Return to the Lord your God," I read, "For he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love."  "It's the perfect verse," his wife said.   "Abounding in steadfast love."  "God's arms are open wide."

Later on, I drove down to a nearby nursing home, where I stopped in to see a woman who has dementia.  Her bed was near the floor when I walked in.  I bent down low to hold her hand.  I don't know for sure if she knew who I was, but I said she had on a lovely shawl, and she said "good."  I sang a couple of songs for her, because that's what I do when I don't know what to do.  And I made the sign of the cross on her forehead, "Gloria, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked by the cross of Christ forever."

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

"Return to the Lord your God, for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love."

I made the sign of the cross on many foreheads today.  I visited the dying.  They were dying, and they were being born again, by the mercy of God.