The other night my mother called and left me a message. She mentioned a name -- the name of someone I knew a long long ago. One of a couple that were my parents' friends for many years. She told me that he had died, and that his funeral would be this Friday.
When she said the name, I felt suddenly transported to my childhood. I began to remember my parents' circle of friends. I have known them all for over fifty years. A few of them had been childhood friends of my father; they went to Sunday school and confirmation together. They were part of a group for newly married couples, called (of all things) the Merry Mates.
After a few years, none of them attended the same church anymore. They had moved out to the suburbs and joined other churches. But they continued to get together for social events: birthdays, summer picnics, camping, Christmas parties. There were informal concerts put on by some of the children. There was the annual "Wizard of Oz" movie viewing event, complete with the children's re-enactment after the movie was over. A couple of times I remember bringing along pajamas and going to sleep on someone else's floor; later on we woke up and were carried out to our car to go home to our own beds.
One of the couples later became missionaries to Papua, New Guinea. My Barbie dolls, dressed up, played a featured role in the decorations for their going-away party.
One of my first arguments about contemporary worship was with one of my parents' friends. I thought we should have a lot of 'new songs', like in Psalm 98. "Sing to the Lord a new song!" She said she didn't really feel like she was worshipping if she had to work hard learning all of the notes and words. At the time, I didn't really know where she was coming from. Now, even though I still love learning new songs, I also know the special gift of singing what you know by heart, as well.
Two of the friends eventually became estranged. One of them has a daughter who is gay; the other believes that being gay is against God's will. My mother remains friends with both of them.
When I think back, these were the people who raised me, not just my own parents, but all of these other couples. They set examples for me: not of heroism, but of kindness. They did not make fun of the children. They were faithful to their friends. They weren't perfect. But they were good.
The people who raised me are dying. One of the men had Parkinsons, like my dad. One of the women had cancer. Another of the women has Alzheimers. Her husband stays with her every day. I remember when I was in Japan, he wrote me letters. She told me, "I would write to you, but if I did, he would stop, and I think it's good he writes."
The people who raised me are dying. They taught me what it meant to be human, to laugh, to listen, not to make fun of the children, to be kind.
They showed me what faithfulness looks like, like a small ordinary thing, rare as a diamond, beautiful as an autumn maple leaf.
The people who raised me are dying. May they live forever.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Friday, October 3, 2014
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Two Old Friends
A couple of weeks ago I had the rare pleasure of getting together, on two separate occasions, with two old friends. The first was an old friend from my seminary days. This doesn’t seem like such a long time ago, until I realize that I have been ordained for 15 years (as of July 16). My seminary friend was a "study buddy"; I met her when we were both first moving to one of the campus dormitories. We studied Greek and Church History together, among other things. More than that, though: she and I were part of a small group of women seminarians who shared our hopes and dreams for ourselves in the future. I admired that my friend was always clear, from the beginning, that she wanted to be a professor.
The second old friend was one from my high school days: we haven’t seen each other since we were both 18 years old, which was longer ago than I care to think about, at least on some days. She went out east to a prestigious college, and I did intend to keep in touch, but I didn’t. One day I was noodling around on facebook, and thinking about friends who shared my passion for writing back then, and I found her name somewhere. She and I weren’t "best friends" but we were good school friends, and we had (as I remember it) a lot of deep discussions about writing and philosophy and religion and creativity. One of the most important things I didn’t know about her when I was in high school was this:
She was crazy about dogs.
Turns out, she still is. In high school, it was German Shepherds that she loved
the most. Now, among other things, she is a well-known breeder of a rare dog native to Israel called the Canaan Dog. She has now living with her, four adult dogs and three small puppies who were just born about a month ago. Her adult dogs are: Tovah, Naftalia, Mazel and Yomi. (My favorite of the four was Naftalia: all the dogs in that litter were named after the sons of Jacob.)
Canaan dogs are descended from the pariah dogs that existed in Canaan from pre-biblical times. They became the guard and shepherd dogs for the Israelites in ancient times, but remained mostly undomesticated until recently. Dr. Rudolphina Menzel began developing the dog in the 1930s as a sentry to guard isolated Jewish settlements.
As for me, when I think of the Canaan dog, I can’t help thinking about the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman. I can’t help remember how Jesus told her, "It’s not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs." I can’t help remembering her great reply, "But even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table." It's fascinating to think that the dog they were perhaps envisioning was something like the Canaan dogs that my friend breeds: intelligent, loyal, beautiful.
Two old friends: they are so different in many ways, but in one way alike: they are both women of passion and accomplishment, both with the ability to see visions and dream dreams, and with the ability to make them real. Both of them women of God, faithful to God's dreams and visions for them, and for the world.
They give me courage to risk my own dreams, even the wild ones.
And now, here she is teaching New Testament and Homiletics at the seminary we both graduated from. She's one of the regular contributors to the popular Working Preacher website, among her other accomplishments.
I can’t help admiring her clear vision and ability to go out and achieve what she wanted. Our conversation that evening ranged from "shop talk" to family to the new visions and dreams we have for ourselves and our church. I can’t believe we live about seven minutes from one another, and we haven’t done this before. I hope we will do it again.
The second old friend was one from my high school days: we haven’t seen each other since we were both 18 years old, which was longer ago than I care to think about, at least on some days. She went out east to a prestigious college, and I did intend to keep in touch, but I didn’t. One day I was noodling around on facebook, and thinking about friends who shared my passion for writing back then, and I found her name somewhere. She and I weren’t "best friends" but we were good school friends, and we had (as I remember it) a lot of deep discussions about writing and philosophy and religion and creativity. One of the most important things I didn’t know about her when I was in high school was this:
She was crazy about dogs.
Turns out, she still is. In high school, it was German Shepherds that she loved
the most. Now, among other things, she is a well-known breeder of a rare dog native to Israel called the Canaan Dog. She has now living with her, four adult dogs and three small puppies who were just born about a month ago. Her adult dogs are: Tovah, Naftalia, Mazel and Yomi. (My favorite of the four was Naftalia: all the dogs in that litter were named after the sons of Jacob.)Canaan dogs are descended from the pariah dogs that existed in Canaan from pre-biblical times. They became the guard and shepherd dogs for the Israelites in ancient times, but remained mostly undomesticated until recently. Dr. Rudolphina Menzel began developing the dog in the 1930s as a sentry to guard isolated Jewish settlements.
As for me, when I think of the Canaan dog, I can’t help thinking about the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman. I can’t help remember how Jesus told her, "It’s not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs." I can’t help remembering her great reply, "But even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table." It's fascinating to think that the dog they were perhaps envisioning was something like the Canaan dogs that my friend breeds: intelligent, loyal, beautiful.
Two old friends: they are so different in many ways, but in one way alike: they are both women of passion and accomplishment, both with the ability to see visions and dream dreams, and with the ability to make them real. Both of them women of God, faithful to God's dreams and visions for them, and for the world.
They give me courage to risk my own dreams, even the wild ones.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Make New Friends, And Keep the Old...
I have the honor of receiving, and passing along, this "blogging friends award."
Three of my friends, Jan, Mompriest, and Jennifer, all awarded this to me. Ironically, I have met all three of these bloggers, so I now count them blogging friends and more. I'd like to give the award back to each of them, because they each fit the description below:
"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."
However, I believe the idea is to pass the award forward. These are just a few of the friends I have met, or would like to meet one day. Some, like Barb, I have known from my first days of blogging. Others, like Lauralew, I have met more recently. And eight is too small a number. But, alas, here goes:
Bloggers I have met:
Bloggers I would like to meet:
Presbyterian Gal
Proclaiming Softly
I feel bad that there are people who I consider friends that I had to leave out, because the list is already too long. You have all been gifts to me in the last (not quite) two years now. Thank you for your wisdom, your compassion, your friendship, your humor, your love of reading, poetry, cooking, and God.
Friday, February 8, 2008
It's Not Friday, it's Wyldday!
Welcome home, Wyld. From Your friends Scout and Diane at Faith in Community.
More pedicures and TLC!
Treats!!!
We love you, and we are glad that you are back in the U.S.
I wish you:
More pedicures and TLC!
A good date!
State of the art medical attention that you deserve!
Great reunions and meetings with friends as you make your way across the U.S.
Scout wishes you:
Treats!!!
Pets!!!
She would like to lick your toes! (oh, I know that's gross, sorry, but she's a dog.)
Greetings also from: Fran, Jan, MoreCows, Politits, DistributorCap, My Saturday Evening Post, When Will I Use This?, FriedaBee, Aunt Dahlia, and Mock Paper Scissors. Some of them have posted their greetings, and others will be later!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The Rest of New York
Saturday, November 17....
Our friends actually got their car out of storage, because they wanted to go and see The Cloisters with us. The Cloisters is a part of the Metropolitan Museum which was build to resemble a medieval monastery (some of the architecture, including doors, etc. are actually from monasteries in Europe). Lots of medieval paintings, tapestries, and sculptures, all pre-reformation. At one point our friends turned to me and said, "So what did Martin Luther do that was so great?"... which prompted a mini-Reformation history lesson.
The Cloisters is on the tip of upper Manhattan, in a wooded area you can't even imagine exists until you get there. I wish we had pictures to show the fall beauty all around the area. We spent all morning roaming around, until suddenly we realized we needed to get back to meet a pastor friend of my husband's. So we rushed back, and caught a subway down to Greenwich Village, where we met another friend -- this time under the Washington Square Arch.
He took us to a little noodle restaurant in the area, and learned a little about how he was doing. He had been a pastor in NewJersey at the time of 9/11, and several people from his congregation were missing after that day, their cars abandoned at the train station. It was a hard time for the small congregation, and a few years ago, he had a severe stroke. He now is able to work 10 hours a week. At one point, he confessed to not being able to follow part of our conversation. I was tempted to feel sorry for him, but he went on to say that he thought he was doing pretty well. "After all," he said, "I'm alive." I'll remember that short sentence for a long time. He also invited us to come back to New York, and stay with his family.
Later, we took the 1 train (our friend!) back to Upper Manhattan. We were a little alarmed when the train skipped several stops before 34th street. We weren't sure what was going on, but there was some kind of work going on, and some of the stops were closed -- just going north. Our friends D and A had invited us over to their house for supper at 7:00 -- homemade lasagne, created by D, salad and ice cream for dessert. Afterwards A had gotten reservations at an Uptown Jazz Club called Smoke, where we heard a be-bop group, featuring drummer Louis Hayes. It was a great atmosphere -- made us wish, though, that we hadn't had dessert! When the show started at 10:00, the first words from the small stage were: "It's Saturday night, and this is New York City!"
The club was cozy, with small tables and sofas in the back, and plush red curtains hanging throughout. D thought that the set was a little too short, but at 11:15, we were sadly up past our bedtime already.
(A word about our building: large, old building -- the rooms had been redecorated and the bathrooms new. Our blow dryer didn't work, and all of the hotel phone went out on Friday night for awhile. Also, one of the hotel elevators was kind of scary-looking, really small with gang markings on it. There was another, newer elevator, but we didn't find it until we were almost ready to leave.)
Sunday, November 18...
we ate breakfast at another wonderful little New York diner called Key West, where they know how to keep the coffee coming, and keep people moving through!
At 11:00 we met our friends again at a church they attend, Advent Lutheran. Pastor Elise Brown preached that morning, and there was a baptism: quite an event when a baby is not just sprinkled, but dipped naked into the font and then clothed in a towel and shown around to the cheering congregation. This was the tradition of the family's culture, we were told. I was impressed by the diversity, and openness. I really enjoyed worshiping with them, but again we had to rush off after worship to meet with a friend of my husband's, who lived down in Soho.
We ate at a cosmopolitan little place where there was a duo playing guitar and bass, and an international crew talking about world issues. Then took a short tour of the neighborhood, and learned a creative way to get back uptown for our luggage since we discovered that our beloved number 1 train did not stop at this station!
We were sad to leave New York, to get on a plane which would leave at 6:00 p.m., and sadder still when we discovered that our flight would be delayed! I would have loved one more hour to walk around in Central Park, to shop at Macy's, stop in at Rockefeller Center. In fact, I'm already planning out next itinerary, which includes:
A show at Radio City Music Hall
Rockefeller Center
Central Park
more Metropolitan Museum of Art
MoMA
The Ellis Island Immigration Museum
Our friends actually got their car out of storage, because they wanted to go and see The Cloisters with us. The Cloisters is a part of the Metropolitan Museum which was build to resemble a medieval monastery (some of the architecture, including doors, etc. are actually from monasteries in Europe). Lots of medieval paintings, tapestries, and sculptures, all pre-reformation. At one point our friends turned to me and said, "So what did Martin Luther do that was so great?"... which prompted a mini-Reformation history lesson.
The Cloisters is on the tip of upper Manhattan, in a wooded area you can't even imagine exists until you get there. I wish we had pictures to show the fall beauty all around the area. We spent all morning roaming around, until suddenly we realized we needed to get back to meet a pastor friend of my husband's. So we rushed back, and caught a subway down to Greenwich Village, where we met another friend -- this time under the Washington Square Arch.
He took us to a little noodle restaurant in the area, and learned a little about how he was doing. He had been a pastor in NewJersey at the time of 9/11, and several people from his congregation were missing after that day, their cars abandoned at the train station. It was a hard time for the small congregation, and a few years ago, he had a severe stroke. He now is able to work 10 hours a week. At one point, he confessed to not being able to follow part of our conversation. I was tempted to feel sorry for him, but he went on to say that he thought he was doing pretty well. "After all," he said, "I'm alive." I'll remember that short sentence for a long time. He also invited us to come back to New York, and stay with his family.
Later, we took the 1 train (our friend!) back to Upper Manhattan. We were a little alarmed when the train skipped several stops before 34th street. We weren't sure what was going on, but there was some kind of work going on, and some of the stops were closed -- just going north. Our friends D and A had invited us over to their house for supper at 7:00 -- homemade lasagne, created by D, salad and ice cream for dessert. Afterwards A had gotten reservations at an Uptown Jazz Club called Smoke, where we heard a be-bop group, featuring drummer Louis Hayes. It was a great atmosphere -- made us wish, though, that we hadn't had dessert! When the show started at 10:00, the first words from the small stage were: "It's Saturday night, and this is New York City!"
The club was cozy, with small tables and sofas in the back, and plush red curtains hanging throughout. D thought that the set was a little too short, but at 11:15, we were sadly up past our bedtime already.
(A word about our building: large, old building -- the rooms had been redecorated and the bathrooms new. Our blow dryer didn't work, and all of the hotel phone went out on Friday night for awhile. Also, one of the hotel elevators was kind of scary-looking, really small with gang markings on it. There was another, newer elevator, but we didn't find it until we were almost ready to leave.)
Sunday, November 18...
we ate breakfast at another wonderful little New York diner called Key West, where they know how to keep the coffee coming, and keep people moving through!
At 11:00 we met our friends again at a church they attend, Advent Lutheran. Pastor Elise Brown preached that morning, and there was a baptism: quite an event when a baby is not just sprinkled, but dipped naked into the font and then clothed in a towel and shown around to the cheering congregation. This was the tradition of the family's culture, we were told. I was impressed by the diversity, and openness. I really enjoyed worshiping with them, but again we had to rush off after worship to meet with a friend of my husband's, who lived down in Soho.
We ate at a cosmopolitan little place where there was a duo playing guitar and bass, and an international crew talking about world issues. Then took a short tour of the neighborhood, and learned a creative way to get back uptown for our luggage since we discovered that our beloved number 1 train did not stop at this station!
We were sad to leave New York, to get on a plane which would leave at 6:00 p.m., and sadder still when we discovered that our flight would be delayed! I would have loved one more hour to walk around in Central Park, to shop at Macy's, stop in at Rockefeller Center. In fact, I'm already planning out next itinerary, which includes:
A show at Radio City Music Hall
Rockefeller Center
Central Park
more Metropolitan Museum of Art
MoMA
The Ellis Island Immigration Museum
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