I hate death

B died yesterday. It was just the beginning of June when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. At first, she thought she had had a stroke. But it turned out to be this, instead. We didn't know, that first day, how serious it would be. We held hands. We waited for the doctor. We prayed. We wanted to hear his advice, the next course of action. The next week B had surgery. After that, she had radiation. She had therapy for a little while, to try to walk again. But, as her daughter said, "the tumor won." She was 75. Her funeral is Friday.

She got over 300 cards while she was in the hospital, and in the nursing home.

I hate death.

I cling to the promise of the resurrection. Sometimes, that's all we have.

Slightly Clearing

Ever since the thunderstorm on Friday night, we've been having trouble with our cable and internet service. Sometimes we can get service only on one computer. Intermittently we get nothing at all. So, last night I listened to the guys talking about fishing up north on the radio (are the lakes a little low? Yah, sure). And I did the dishes which were piling up. And I organized the kitchen more than I have for a long time. I found a recipe that I had been searching for -- chicken ranch wraps. They were quite a hit back in June, thanks to Betty Crocker. But I made the mistake of tearing the page out of the magazine, and have been spending a lot of time since then trying to figure out where I put it. Last night I rediscovered the recipe.

In other news, I've been trying to de-accumulate books from my office library. We'll be having a book sale here in the fall. So I've been "weeding" on the shelves, and discovered a book I was sure someone had stolen from the church library! It was me!

Things are still pretty chaotic around here. There is slightly more counter space in the kitchen. We got the vacuum cleaner fixed. And on the church front, I finally got hold of a couple of people to work with me on a fall event I am trying to plan. Co-conspirators, I like to call them.

But many, many things, on both the home front and the church front, are up in the air. Yes, I'm "living in the tension." I do like doing many things at one time. I never liked just sitting at a desk. But I do feel, once in awhile, that I'm juggling with one too many balls.

I'm working on the computer at church, because the one at home is acting up. The one at church is working, but freezes up a lot. (sigh). I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

The weather has cleared a little from the weekend. It's pleasantly warm outside. Inside and around the corner, there are some fellow-travelers, co-conspirators, I like to call them, to share the load.

This Morning's Sermon

"Number the Stars"

A few years ago, I came across a little book by a woman named Lois Lowry. She writes books primarily for children and young adults. This book was about the Danish resistance during World War II. Some of you might know a little bit about this story. The Danish people knew that they didn't have the military might or strength to opposeHItler by force. But they didn't just give in, either. They all worked together to keep the Jewish people in their communities safe. They would do things like: change the house numbers on their block so that the Nazis had ahard time finding people. They helped their friends escape to Sweden in the middle of the night. There's even a story -- I don't know if it's true -- that the King of Denmark wore a Star of David on his sleeve when he went out in public. This book told the story of the Danes through the eyes of young people who were brave and who helped with this resistance movement. The name of the book is: "Number the Stars."

The book's title is taken form our first reading this morning, the reading from Genesis. Abraham has received a promise from God, a few chapters back, in Chapter 12. God promises Abraham: "I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." (Genesis 12:2-3) In this chapter Abraham reminds God of his promise and wonders how it can possibly be fulfilled. How can a man with no child become a great nation? He just can't imagine it. And then God invites Abraham to look at the sky and imagine that his descendants will someday be as numerous as the stars of heaven. "Number the stars," God tells Abram. "Just see if you can count them all." And then God goes on to say: "So shall your descendants be." And as the scriptures relate, "Abraham believed God, and God reckened it to him as righteousness."

Lois Lowry's story of the Danish resistance and the story of Abraham are both, at the heart, stories of faith. I believe a better way to translate that last sentence in Genesis 15 is "Abraham TRUSTED God..." because here "believing is not so much an intellectual activity, but a relationship of trust. Abraham didn't look up at the stars and have an intellectual understanding of how it might be possible for him to become a great nation. Abraham trusted God -- this one who had called him to take his family and set out for a place he had never seen before -- so he looked up at the stars -- and something there captured his imagination. In Lois Lowry's story, the people -- and especially the young people -- look not at the stars, but into the faces of their Jewish friends and neighbors. And they see children of God, worthy of life, worthy of love, worthy of protection.

I don't know about you, but I've been thinking a lot about faith lately -- what and who I have faith in, and what and who I might not ha ve faith in. Especially recently, I have caught myself, when out on the road, looking up at an overpass bridge, and thinking: "How does it look? Are there cracks? Is it ok?" I used to drive around the city without thinking at all, trusting, believing that every bridge would hold me up. In fact, I don't think I could imagine the possibility that a bridge might not hold me up. I trusted the steel, the concrete, the mortar, and the skill and wisdom of those who had designed and built them -- just like I trust so many things and so many people every day, without thinking about it.

As I said, faith is, at its heart, a relationship of trust, not primarily an intellectual activity. We don't have to understand the mechanics of car maintenance to trust that when we put a key into the ignition and turn, it will star. I trust not only the people who built the cars (whom I have never met), but the ones who taught me how to drive. We live our lives trusting, often without thinking. Until lately, and lately, I have been thinking, "Where do I put my trust?" Places that seemed to be solid and trustworthy, firm foundations, have proven to be insecure ones. People who we trusted to be wise and vigilant have proven to be fallible. Where do you put your trust? Where do I?

In these days since the bridge on 35W collapsed, we have seen many images and heard many stories. We've seen pictures of fallen concrete, smashed cars, broken foundations: things we thought were secure, and weren't. We have prayed for people we don't even know; we have grieved for people and given thanks with others. We've been angry and frustrated and bewilded. Where do we put our trust? Where do you? That's the question. And what does it mean to trust... when bridges can fall down, when foundations can crumble?

One of the most famous passages in the Bible is from Hebrews 11: "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." I'll say it again: "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." So we HOPE that bridges will not collapse, and in faith we drive across them. We HOPE that the pilot of our airplane is well-trained, and in faith we board the plane. We HOPE that our spouse will be waiting for us when we come home from work, and in faith we drive in the driveway. The assurance of things hoped for. Faith is being so assured of what we hope for -- that we are willing to take action because of it. But I like the second part even better: "The conviction of things not seen." This is where imagination comes in. This is where Abraham comes in, looking up at the stars and imagining descendants. This iw where the Danish resistance comes in, looking at their Jewish friends and neighbors and imagining them as precious in God's eyes as they were. Imagining that they might even be willing to die for them. Faith is trust: trust in one who is sure, and in a foundation that won't crumble, and in a hand that will never let you go. And faith is imagination: imagining that the things God tells us, no matter how far-fetched they seem, really are true. We can stake our lives on them.

One of the most powerful images, and one of the most powerful stories of the last couple of weeks wasa the school bus, full of children, on the bridge. (The school bus contained mostly immigrant children from one of the poorest neighborhoods in Minneapolis.) One of the reasons that this story is so powerful, of course, is because it turned out all right. Even though the children were scared, and some were injured, everyone was saved. And there were some heroes on that evening: a young man named Jeremy Hernandez, who thought quickly and didn't lose his head. There were others who were on the bridge, who were in danger themselves, who quickly came to the aid of the children on the bus, and who worked to make sure they were all taken to safety. One in particular was a truck driver. He's been interviewed a few times. He speaks clearly about his memory of that day, his fears as he felt his truck falling (and breaking in two), his concern about his family (I believe he's just about to become a father, or is a new father), his fear that his back might be broken. And yet, as soon as he got out of his truck, his first thought was: "The school bus!" He ran to the bus to help rescue the children. The person who interviewed him couldn't believe it. He put his own personal safety aside, and went to the aid of the children. Before he even saw them, he knew: They were precious in God's eyes, just as precious as he was. How did he know?

Faith is.... the conviction of things not seen.

Number the stars, and see if you can count them.... So shall your descendants be.

Long ago, Abraham was given a promise. "I will make of you a great nation, and I will make your name great, so that you will be a blessing... and in you all the families of the earth will be blessed." And this promise did come true. Abraham did become a great nation, although he didn't live to see it. Israel did become a great nation, and his descendants are many. But even more than that, through Abraham came Jesus -- who came to reconcile all nations and all people to God, to show God's love by dying on a cross, and rising to life. In him we are all God's children, as many as the stars of heaven, as the sands on the seashore. Can you imagine it?

While some people are stingy with God's love, only giving it out a little at a time to those they think are worthy, Jesus flings open his arms and give his life: for us. For all of us. For all of the children on the bus, wherever they come from, whose-ever they are. He give his life to save us from all of the crumbling foundations beneath us, whatever they might be, and gives us the confidence, the assurance, that in his arms we will always be safe, and his eyes, we will always be precious.

A week ago Wednesday, some of us were on the bridge, and some of us were not. But perhaps with the eyes of faith, with the eyes of imagination, we can see: we are all on the bridge, in one way or another. Somali children and truck drivers, the Danish resistance and the Jewish people, walking or in wheelchairs, all colors, all orientations: we're all on the bridge. And we can choose to live and die in fear, or in faith, together or separately. Jesus is our foundation when all other foundations crumble beneath us, and Jesus is the one who calls us to reach out to one another, calling us "brothers and sisters." "Number the stars," he tells us. "See if you can count them. That is the measure of my love for you. That is the measure of my love for the world."

How firm a foundation O saints of the Lord
Is laid for your faith in Christ Jesus the Word

Throughout all their lifetime my people shall prove
My sov'reign, eternal unchangeable love.

May God's people prove, through words and actions, God's sov'reign, eternal, unchangeable, immeasurable love ... for the world. AMEN

Thunderstorm

Last night we had a big fat thunderstorm. At three o clock in the morning I woke up for two reasons: 1) 60 mile an hour winds, 2) Scout was not in our room. She was roaming around the house, looking for a safe place. Even with all of the wind blowing through the branches outside our window, even with the heavy rain, I could still hear her tags, as she walked through the house.

I coaxed her back into our bedroom, scratched under her chin, patted her side. My side of the bed is by the window, so she didn't want to stay. The storm showed no signs of letting up.

Stepson had to get up at 4:00, be to work at the Farmers Market at 5:00. For awhile everyone was up, including the dog. We couldn't get back to sleep.

This morning I expected some of the hot humid weather to have cleared away. There were small branches strewn all over the road. And some of the rain was still shaking out of the branches. In the middle of the sunshine, every once in awhile there would be a gush of rain, startling the dog.

At church I found out that some people had no electricity this morning. There were some stop lights out, gnarling traffic. And it's still hot and humid.

My brain needs a good thunderstorm. There's a thickness, a humidity, hanging over it. I am working on projects, but don't seem to be making any progress. I want everything to fit into neat little boxes, be easily resolved, so that I can go on to the next thing.

In the meantime, there are the little things that came up that I didn't expect: no one prepared communion for tonight, so I did it. What's the psalm tone? The organist always chose one. The substitute wanted to know. Could I copy the psalm for her? Little things.

We got a good, hard rain again tonight. Really hard. Husband said the power went out across the street. A tree branch is down. Meanwhile, we are having problems with our internet. We might need a new router. I'm not even sure what a router is, but it appears to be essential.

Friday Five: Stress Busting Edition

Sally over at the "Revgals" would like us to consider "stress". She's asking us 5 questions and a bonus about how we handle stress in our lives! I wasn't going to play, since I am far too stressed out, but here I am, sucked in on another Friday, while I am handling all the communion services, writing a sermon, prayers and a children's message, and covering as much pastoral care as possible. Stress?!



1. First, and before we start busting stress, what causes you the most stress, is it big things or the small stuff ?
For me, it can be either/or. Sometimes the busy-ness can be a real adrenaline rush, and then one more thing gets added, and that is the straw. Often times it's little stuff. Because when the BIG STUFF comes along, all of a sudden it becomes clear what is important and what is not. Stress is often a result of not being really sure what is most important.


2. Exercise or chocolate for stress busting ( or maybe something else) ?
Potato chips. Walking the dog is a type of exerise that I find very stress-busting. Also, it walks off some of the effects of the potato chips.

3.What is your favourite music to chill out to?

I'm a little prejudiced, but I think that classical guitar is perfect to relax to, especially if played by my husband (in a pinch, though, Christopher Parkening or Segovia will do.) I do still retain a fondness for romantic piano music as well, Chopin or Liszt.


4. Where do you go to chill?

To bookstores, to the library, or for a walk around the lake, one of the fringe benefits of living in my town... lots of beautiful lakes

5. Extrovert or introvert, do you relax at a party, or do you prefer a solitary walk?

Like Mompriest, I like a little of both. Sometimes a party is a good way to get me out of myself (when the stress is inner) and sometimes I need to get away from the noise of it all and think or write or walk.

Bonus- share your favourite stress busting tip!
Here are four bonus stress-busting tips!
1. Singing and playing the piano is very stress-busting for me! Make sure they are songs I can play! Sing at the top of my lungs!
2. Petting the dog, playing with the dog, brushing the dog, scratching the dog's ears, telling the dog what a fabulous, perfect, beautiful specimen of an animal she is (by the way, the picture above is a baby picture).
3. Laughing!!! tell me jokes, take me to a falling-down-on-the-floor slapstick comedy, read me a riotously funny story.
4. Word puzzles,crosswords, acrostics, anagrams.

Flowers etc.

The purple flowers are starting to come back. I was afraid they wouldn't.

When we first brought home the hanging basket, it was thick with purple and pink blossoms, a beautiful addition to our front yard. It was an impulse buy at the farmers' market that morning. But we needed some color in the front yard.

It's been a hot, dry summer. Our front yard faces west, as well. Almost every year I buy a beautiful colorful hanging basket. I seem to have problems keeping the flowers blooming.

This year was no exception. It wasn't long after we purchased the basket that we left on vacation. The basket looked scraggily already when we returned. I've been nursing it and watching it, and clipping out the brown places ever since. Finally, some color is returning. Just purple though.

I noticed a little orange spot in the midst of my one lone tomato plant. When I reached for it, though, it turned out that something had eaten a hole in it. There are a few more small round tomatoes forming, so I still have hope. We'll eat tomatoes yet.

When I bend down to check for tomatoes, I can smell the basil in back. It's the one good thing I did, I think. I planted the basil right in back of the tomatoes.

There are still a lot of wild places left in our yard, unkempt, overgrown. There are places where I should just take a shovel and dig everything up and start over. And there are trees, little wild saplings all over, that I have to pull up. Some old tree is desparately trying to reproduce itself -- all over our yard. There's a lot of chaos in our yard.

At church, B has taken a turn for the worse. I still remember the day in the hospital, when they were waiting for the doctor. We were scared, but we were trying to be hopeful, still. I remember B's strong hand, which said so much more than all of our words. It doesn't seem that long ago we were impatient for the doctor.

I went to a meeting today for pastors and church leaders. We were told about a study that showed that public support and investment in infrastructure declines as racial and cultural diversity increases. This is exactly what has been happening in my state, and it seems ugly. We don't want to invest in each other because we no longer all look alike.

At our Bible study on Wednesday evening, people said that the bridge inspectors have been getting death threats.

Meanwhile, we are preparing for a baptism. The new mother was told some time ago that she would never be able to have children. "What do they know?" we said. He was born three weeks ago.

There is a lot of chaos in my yard. There are many things that still need to be fixed.

But there are a few purple flowers, one tomato plant and some sweet basil. I still have hope.

Poetry Party

Please stop over at Mompriest's for another edifying and thought-provoking poem.


The poet is Ghalib. Check it out.