Today, on the first Sunday of Advent, I worshipped at a mega-church.
I have been with family in Another City for the Thanksgiving Holiday, getting acquainted and re-acquainted with new and old family, eating the familiar feast and giving thanks and having conversations, making sure to talk about some subjects and avoid other subjects. We walked and shopped and ate and watched movies.
This morning we went to church together.
It was my first time at a real mega-church, although I have been at a few large church services in my day, and I even spent a couple of years among the Pentecostals. But still, I am older now, and wiser, and it was the first Sunday of Advent, and I wondered what I would think, and how I would feel, standing in a row with some new family and some old family, and worshipping at a mega-church. I wondered if they would have Advent candles, or if they would acknowledge the season at all, and if so, what difference it would make.
They didn't have candles. They did say the word "Advent," though, as well as the word "Christmas", and they gave out advent calendars at the end of the service. They had flashing lights, and a thumping bass rhythm, and songs that rocked. At the beginning of the service, a piped in choir sang O Come O Come Emmanuel. Then, we were welcomed, and encouraged to sing along as the band began playing a version of Joy to the World. The lights went down. The band played and sang. We sang. I sang.
And I felt a lump in my throat, and, I don't know why, a few tears sat in the corners of my eyes, and trickled down. No one saw. It was dark. No one knew. And I don't know why. Somehow I was incredibly happy, and somehow I was incredibly sad.
There was a part of a verse when the band tried to drop out and encourage us to sing. I sang so loud. We knew the song. And I think that a lot of us were singing our guts out. But it hardly made a dent in the huge building, even though it was full of people. Maybe that's why I felt so incredibly sad. Here we were, all these people worshipping together, and the sound we made felt so small that morning, and it made me think of how much trouble there is, and how small the sound we make can be. I thought back to the day before Thanksgiving, when I had a small prayer service in my church. I encouraged those present to write down what they were thankful for. And during the prayers I read all of the responses.
Someone wrote, "I am glad I live in a peaceful city, and state."
And that broke my heart, just a little, because I knew that this person was saying that they were thankful that they were not in Ferguson, Missouri.
Maybe I was thinking about that, and all the other sadnesses, while I was singing and the tears were trickling down my cheeks. Maybe I was thinking about all of the things that are not right, and how I can sing my heart out and sometimes it feels like no one can hear me.
But then again there were the words, "Joy to the world, the Lord is come." And in that darkness I couldn't help but feel the joy in the words that I was singing. They are advent words, by which I mean they are words not just about the coming of the baby, but about the coming of the King, the coming of the King not just of small hopes, but of large ones, the king who will raise up the lowly and feed the hungry and dry every tear.
We are given that song to sing, and it makes me incredibly happy to sing it, even in the darkness.
It is Advent. The first day.
And I am incredibly happy.
And incredibly sad.
Showing posts with label thanksgiving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thanksgiving. Show all posts
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Friday, November 29, 2013
Giving Thanks
Lately, I am late. That is to say, I haven't been timely. I have thought about things to say about current events, but it seems these "things to say" occur to me after the moment of interest has passed.
So it is with Thanksgiving, which was yesterday.
It seems to me that thanksgiving is an art. It is not as easy as it looks, and even harder to do well. So, many of my friends have been posting one thing each day that they are grateful for, and others have not participated because they fear a sort of gluttony of gratitude, where the thanksgivings begin looking more and more like those Christmas letters you receive where it seems that the whole family, including the dog, has been airbrushed. (There is an art to those yearly Christmas letters, as well, but, that's a topic for another day.) None of the thanksgivings I have read this year sounded airbrushed to me. One of my friends did make me laugh one day. She was on her 44th day of thanksgiving (she took a slightly longer time frame than the rest of us), and she gave thanks that she had not been abducted by aliens during the past year.
Like I said, thanksgiving is an art. It's not as easy as it looks. It is even harder to do well, and keep doing, every single day. Five things come to mind that help:
1. Creativity. It helps to have a skewed view of the world, where you can be grateful that you were not abducted by aliens, for example. It helps to be able to stand on your head as well, sometimes, at least figuratively. Yesterday at thanksgiving dinner there were a number of adults of all ages, but only one small child. But she set a place for her imaginary friend, Dora. So I give thanks for her, and her friend, and the small yellow plate at the end of the table.
2. Mindfulness. It helps to pay attention, although it is no mean feat in this busy and distracting world of ours. Sometimes, though, the distractions that feed gratitude, as when a woman came into my office this morning in tears, asking me to pray for her and her family. Then I was grateful that I was in the office, grateful for the gift of tears, even grateful for my own grieving that helped me to be present with her.
3. Simplicity. Rather than the big things, give thanks for little things, both seen and unseen: a cup of tea, the color green, air, an old photograph. Take time to taste, to smell, to see, to hear, to touch. I sometimes realize that I eat without really tasting my food, after the first bite, much less taking time to give thanks for it. It is sort of ironic given the fact that every meal begins with saying grace.
4. Empathy. Can we give thanks in such a way that it doesn't sound like we are so grateful that we are not in someone else's shoes? Be grateful for a home, and then work to end homelessness. Be grateful for your thanksgiving table, and work to end hunger. It also helps to widen our circles of relationships and hear stories from people we do not yet know.
5. Honesty. There are days when it is really hard to give thanks, days when you know you have let someone else down, or someone has let you down, when you are more aware of deficiencies than your gifts, when pain is raw and beauty is overcast with grief. Thanksgiving that does not acknowledge all of our lives is not true, or really gracious.
Thanksgiving is an art. I am not sure that I am very good at it. But I will try to keep my eyes peeled, by ears and my heart open, my hands empty.
So it is with Thanksgiving, which was yesterday.
It seems to me that thanksgiving is an art. It is not as easy as it looks, and even harder to do well. So, many of my friends have been posting one thing each day that they are grateful for, and others have not participated because they fear a sort of gluttony of gratitude, where the thanksgivings begin looking more and more like those Christmas letters you receive where it seems that the whole family, including the dog, has been airbrushed. (There is an art to those yearly Christmas letters, as well, but, that's a topic for another day.) None of the thanksgivings I have read this year sounded airbrushed to me. One of my friends did make me laugh one day. She was on her 44th day of thanksgiving (she took a slightly longer time frame than the rest of us), and she gave thanks that she had not been abducted by aliens during the past year.
Like I said, thanksgiving is an art. It's not as easy as it looks. It is even harder to do well, and keep doing, every single day. Five things come to mind that help:
1. Creativity. It helps to have a skewed view of the world, where you can be grateful that you were not abducted by aliens, for example. It helps to be able to stand on your head as well, sometimes, at least figuratively. Yesterday at thanksgiving dinner there were a number of adults of all ages, but only one small child. But she set a place for her imaginary friend, Dora. So I give thanks for her, and her friend, and the small yellow plate at the end of the table.
2. Mindfulness. It helps to pay attention, although it is no mean feat in this busy and distracting world of ours. Sometimes, though, the distractions that feed gratitude, as when a woman came into my office this morning in tears, asking me to pray for her and her family. Then I was grateful that I was in the office, grateful for the gift of tears, even grateful for my own grieving that helped me to be present with her.
3. Simplicity. Rather than the big things, give thanks for little things, both seen and unseen: a cup of tea, the color green, air, an old photograph. Take time to taste, to smell, to see, to hear, to touch. I sometimes realize that I eat without really tasting my food, after the first bite, much less taking time to give thanks for it. It is sort of ironic given the fact that every meal begins with saying grace.
4. Empathy. Can we give thanks in such a way that it doesn't sound like we are so grateful that we are not in someone else's shoes? Be grateful for a home, and then work to end homelessness. Be grateful for your thanksgiving table, and work to end hunger. It also helps to widen our circles of relationships and hear stories from people we do not yet know.
5. Honesty. There are days when it is really hard to give thanks, days when you know you have let someone else down, or someone has let you down, when you are more aware of deficiencies than your gifts, when pain is raw and beauty is overcast with grief. Thanksgiving that does not acknowledge all of our lives is not true, or really gracious.
Thanksgiving is an art. I am not sure that I am very good at it. But I will try to keep my eyes peeled, by ears and my heart open, my hands empty.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Holy Work
This year, for the first time in many years, my congregation did not have a Thanksgiving Day worship service. We still participated in an ecumenical Thanksgiving Eve service, as we have for many years, but we did not gather at 10:00 a.m. in the Sanctuary and sing "Come, Ye Thankful People Come", and "Sing to the Lord of Harvest". (One of our families always says that it isn't Thanksgiving until we've sung that particular hymn.)
The Thanksgiving Day service has a long and illustrious history at this congregation. Our former church administrator, who grew up at this church, told me that back in the 1950s and 1960s, the sanctuary was full on Thanksgiving Day -- all with men and their children, worshipping while their wives prepared the feast. To be honest, I couldn't even imagine that. Crowds have not been so impressive the last few years, although the singing has always been pretty enthusiastic. Singing the Thanksgiving hymns has always been my favorite part of the service.
This year, instead of going over to church and finding the bulletins in the usher's closet, I got up early and went to my mom's house, so that we could prepare the dinner together. I haven't prepared a Thanksgiving dinner in years, since I have always had worship responsibilities in the morning. But since I had the day free, my mom and I decided we'd do it together. I had come over briefly the evening before, to help prepare the stuffing and get the turkey ready. In the morning, we set the oven and stuffed and basted, set the table and and put out the decorations. We made salads and cup up vegetables and wiped down counters, and took a couple of breaks with coffee.
Then my brother arrived, with his grown children. They went over to the nursing home and picked up my dad. My husband, his mother and his son arrived a little later. We took trips down to the social room where we got everything ready to be served.
And we prayed: "Come Lord Jesus/Be our Guest/Let these Gifts/To Us be Blest. Amen"
My brother and I did a little impromptu singing: a couple of little-known songs from the Bing Crosby Christmas Album. We tried to engage my dad, but he was not joining in, at least not then. We wheeled him out to the piano, where he listened to my husband and my nephew play for a little while. During the pumpkin pie, though, my dad started to smile, and when I tried again to sing a little of "I'll Be Home for Christmas," he said, simply, "Bing Crosby."
"Do you remember when they sang that song, Dad?" I asked. I answered myself, "It was during World War II."
Later on, my brother took my dad back to the nursing home, and we vacuumed the floor and put the leftovers in little tubs to send home with people. I gave my neice a pair of homemade footies that I had been working on for an impossibly long time. She liked them, and that made me thankful.
So, I didn't sing "Come, Ye Faithful People Come" this year, and I supposed I missed hearing that song in the foreground, with the stalwart members of my congregation. But I still heard their voices in the background, the memories of the voices of my community the foundation of my Holy Work on Thanksgiving.
This meal we prepared together, my mom and I, this is Holy Work too, isn't it? This table we set and the conversation we shared, this is Holy Work too. It is not just when I break the bread in the congregation that I am doing Holy Work.
Don't get me wrong: I love being a pastor, and I give thanks for the opportunity that I have to consecrate bread and wine, to speak words of grace, to gather and to send out people into God's world. I am thankful for this Holy Work. But I am thankful for the opportunity to wipe down the table and to sing with my Dad, and to lift the turkey out of the oven with my mom as well.
I could still hear "Come Ye Faithful People Come" in the background.
The Thanksgiving Day service has a long and illustrious history at this congregation. Our former church administrator, who grew up at this church, told me that back in the 1950s and 1960s, the sanctuary was full on Thanksgiving Day -- all with men and their children, worshipping while their wives prepared the feast. To be honest, I couldn't even imagine that. Crowds have not been so impressive the last few years, although the singing has always been pretty enthusiastic. Singing the Thanksgiving hymns has always been my favorite part of the service.
This year, instead of going over to church and finding the bulletins in the usher's closet, I got up early and went to my mom's house, so that we could prepare the dinner together. I haven't prepared a Thanksgiving dinner in years, since I have always had worship responsibilities in the morning. But since I had the day free, my mom and I decided we'd do it together. I had come over briefly the evening before, to help prepare the stuffing and get the turkey ready. In the morning, we set the oven and stuffed and basted, set the table and and put out the decorations. We made salads and cup up vegetables and wiped down counters, and took a couple of breaks with coffee.
Then my brother arrived, with his grown children. They went over to the nursing home and picked up my dad. My husband, his mother and his son arrived a little later. We took trips down to the social room where we got everything ready to be served.
And we prayed: "Come Lord Jesus/Be our Guest/Let these Gifts/To Us be Blest. Amen"
My brother and I did a little impromptu singing: a couple of little-known songs from the Bing Crosby Christmas Album. We tried to engage my dad, but he was not joining in, at least not then. We wheeled him out to the piano, where he listened to my husband and my nephew play for a little while. During the pumpkin pie, though, my dad started to smile, and when I tried again to sing a little of "I'll Be Home for Christmas," he said, simply, "Bing Crosby."
"Do you remember when they sang that song, Dad?" I asked. I answered myself, "It was during World War II."
Later on, my brother took my dad back to the nursing home, and we vacuumed the floor and put the leftovers in little tubs to send home with people. I gave my neice a pair of homemade footies that I had been working on for an impossibly long time. She liked them, and that made me thankful.
So, I didn't sing "Come, Ye Faithful People Come" this year, and I supposed I missed hearing that song in the foreground, with the stalwart members of my congregation. But I still heard their voices in the background, the memories of the voices of my community the foundation of my Holy Work on Thanksgiving.
This meal we prepared together, my mom and I, this is Holy Work too, isn't it? This table we set and the conversation we shared, this is Holy Work too. It is not just when I break the bread in the congregation that I am doing Holy Work.
Don't get me wrong: I love being a pastor, and I give thanks for the opportunity that I have to consecrate bread and wine, to speak words of grace, to gather and to send out people into God's world. I am thankful for this Holy Work. But I am thankful for the opportunity to wipe down the table and to sing with my Dad, and to lift the turkey out of the oven with my mom as well.
I could still hear "Come Ye Faithful People Come" in the background.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Call and Response
My congregation charged me with coming up with some liturgical pieces to use outdoors for more informal worship (and so people would not have to have so much "paper" in their bulletin. Here are two that I came up with. I taught the congregation (in three sections) the three responses, and alternated with pieces that I wrote. See what you think:
LITANY OF THANKSGIVING
Responses:
A The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases
B God's mercies never come to an end
C Great is Your Faithfulness, O God.
In the morning and the evening, in the stars and the sun and the rain
A,B,C
In the strm and in the rainbow after a storm, in the song of birds, iin the beauty of flowers bursting with colors
A
In the springtime and in the winter, at harvest and during summer
B
In the wandering in the wilderness, in the manna you provide us, in the waysy ou sustain us throughout our lives
C
In our families and in the strangers who are your gift to us, in our neighbors near or far
A
In good times and in hard times, in joy and in sorrow, for richer, for poorer
A, B
In the water that washes over us, in the name of Jesus who claims us, in the bread and wine that feed us
B,C
In the man of sorrows who was acquainted with grief, who forgave his enemies, and who promised us paradise
A
In the empty tomb and the words, "He is risen,", in the appearances to his disciples, as he promised, "I am with you always"
A,B,C
AMEN
LITANY OF CALL
Responses:
A Now you are the body of Christ, and individually members of it
B And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your strength and all your mind (okay, that one was hard, but they rose to the occasion!)
C And you shall love your neighbor as yourself
God calls our feet "beautiful" and urges us forward to make God's name known in the world.
A,B,C
God has given us eyes so that we can see the beauty in creation, and the beauty in our neighbor
A
God has given us eyes so that we can see the pain in the world, and hands to reach out to give comfort and to work for justice
B,C
God has given us ears to hear God's word of promise and grace, and God has given us ears to hear cries of joy and cries of sorrow
B
God calls us to use our hands to comfort, heal, serve and left each other up
A
God calls us to raise our voices in praise, and to raise our voices to speak up for the powerless
B, C
God calls us to kneel, to run, to stand up, to sit down, to carry each other's burdens, to use our whole bodies to show God's love and care for the world
A,C
God calls our feet "beautiful," and urges us forward to make God's name known in the world.
A,B, C
LITANY OF THANKSGIVING
Responses:
A The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases
B God's mercies never come to an end
C Great is Your Faithfulness, O God.
In the morning and the evening, in the stars and the sun and the rain
A,B,C
In the strm and in the rainbow after a storm, in the song of birds, iin the beauty of flowers bursting with colors
A
In the springtime and in the winter, at harvest and during summer
B
In the wandering in the wilderness, in the manna you provide us, in the waysy ou sustain us throughout our lives
C
In our families and in the strangers who are your gift to us, in our neighbors near or far
A
In good times and in hard times, in joy and in sorrow, for richer, for poorer
A, B
In the water that washes over us, in the name of Jesus who claims us, in the bread and wine that feed us
B,C
In the man of sorrows who was acquainted with grief, who forgave his enemies, and who promised us paradise
A
In the empty tomb and the words, "He is risen,", in the appearances to his disciples, as he promised, "I am with you always"
A,B,C
AMEN
LITANY OF CALL
Responses:
A Now you are the body of Christ, and individually members of it
B And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your strength and all your mind (okay, that one was hard, but they rose to the occasion!)
C And you shall love your neighbor as yourself
God calls our feet "beautiful" and urges us forward to make God's name known in the world.
A,B,C
God has given us eyes so that we can see the beauty in creation, and the beauty in our neighbor
A
God has given us eyes so that we can see the pain in the world, and hands to reach out to give comfort and to work for justice
B,C
God has given us ears to hear God's word of promise and grace, and God has given us ears to hear cries of joy and cries of sorrow
B
God calls us to use our hands to comfort, heal, serve and left each other up
A
God calls us to raise our voices in praise, and to raise our voices to speak up for the powerless
B, C
God calls us to kneel, to run, to stand up, to sit down, to carry each other's burdens, to use our whole bodies to show God's love and care for the world
A,C
God calls our feet "beautiful," and urges us forward to make God's name known in the world.
A,B, C
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thanksgiving
On Thursday morning at 10:00 I was standing in front of a congregation in my church for Thanksgiving Day worship. It was a small but active group (many good singers among them); we also are a part of an ecumenical Thanksgiving Eve service where our choir joins with three other churches. I preached on both occasions so the sermon was the same, but we did a lot of singing on Thursday morning, including "Sing to the Lord of Harvest." It just isn't Thanksgiving if you don't sing this particular tune.
A couple of hours later, we were on a plane and landing in a Nearby Large City where my husband's sister and extended family were hosting Thanksgiving Dinner.
It was a large, happy, noisy crowd. There was lots of laughing, there were lots of children (eight and under), lots of food, including the famous White Jello, which I have made on occasion, with some success (some of the time.) At one point I went upstairs and crashed, missing the pie. They did leave some for me.
It's good to get away. It's good to give thanks.
It's been noisy and it's been quiet this Thanksgiving. I miss the smaller celebrations with my family, but I do enjoy being a part of the bustle and hustle, and I love all the children.
This morning it's quiet again, but last night the family came over again, and we had a noisy delicious dinner of spaghetti casserole. My husband's sister is a good cook, one of her many gifts. She also has the gift of making people feel welcome, and of not making a big deal about mishaps. She rolls with the punches. They were the first place we took our dog when she was a puppy, and it turned out to be the best idea.
So at the large Thanksgiving Dinner, I talked to a couple of people from the family I knew well, and met a new member of the family. Among other things, she recommended a book to me: "The Warmth of Other Suns." (I will read this.)
The next day we did a little shopping (though not at a large mall), and I found this wonderful picture book, "Balloons Over Broadway: the True Story of the Puppeteer of Macy's Parade". (links later, I hope). I am still working on the shawl with bobbles.
And I'm reading, at odd, quiet moments, Father Greg Boyle's book, "Tattoos on the Heart." Makes me cry. And it makes me realize how many of us, and how much of the time, we really really don't believe in the power of grace.
A couple of hours later, we were on a plane and landing in a Nearby Large City where my husband's sister and extended family were hosting Thanksgiving Dinner.
It was a large, happy, noisy crowd. There was lots of laughing, there were lots of children (eight and under), lots of food, including the famous White Jello, which I have made on occasion, with some success (some of the time.) At one point I went upstairs and crashed, missing the pie. They did leave some for me.
It's good to get away. It's good to give thanks.
It's been noisy and it's been quiet this Thanksgiving. I miss the smaller celebrations with my family, but I do enjoy being a part of the bustle and hustle, and I love all the children.
This morning it's quiet again, but last night the family came over again, and we had a noisy delicious dinner of spaghetti casserole. My husband's sister is a good cook, one of her many gifts. She also has the gift of making people feel welcome, and of not making a big deal about mishaps. She rolls with the punches. They were the first place we took our dog when she was a puppy, and it turned out to be the best idea.
So at the large Thanksgiving Dinner, I talked to a couple of people from the family I knew well, and met a new member of the family. Among other things, she recommended a book to me: "The Warmth of Other Suns." (I will read this.)
The next day we did a little shopping (though not at a large mall), and I found this wonderful picture book, "Balloons Over Broadway: the True Story of the Puppeteer of Macy's Parade". (links later, I hope). I am still working on the shawl with bobbles.
And I'm reading, at odd, quiet moments, Father Greg Boyle's book, "Tattoos on the Heart." Makes me cry. And it makes me realize how many of us, and how much of the time, we really really don't believe in the power of grace.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Bringing in the Harvest
(this is the beginning of my Thanksgiving Eve sermon)
I remember sitting at the kitchen table one day when I was small, talking to my mother. I had just gotten home from a trip out to my grandparents'farm in southwestern Minnesota. As we talked and conversed about the days, what was good and what we wished was different, I suddenly blurted out, "Oh, I wish we could go and live on the farm!" My mother looked at me, smiled, and said, "you have no idea what you are wishing for." Her response deflated me, a little. I didn't know what she was talkinga bout. I thought i had a good idea! And it's also true, as well, I didn't know what I was wishing for. I didn't know then, andp robably still don't, all of what would be involved to "go and live on the farm." I didn't know, esepcially as a young child, that the life I experienced as so gracious, so abundant, so full of adventure, to her was a life of hard work, long days, and sometimes even isolation.
ONce, a long time later, I asked her more about what it was like to grow up on a farm. She told me a little about the different chores she had, some things she had to do, and she said that she really didn't miss the farm that much. She liked living in the city, liked the opportunities, liked the community, liked the kind of work she did. She didn't really miss the farm -- except at harvest time, she said. She missed the farm at harvest time.
I wondered what it was about the harvest, about that time of year, about this time of year, that made the hard work and long days of farm life worth it. I wondered what it was that made harvest different than every other time of the year. I wondered, but I didn't ask her. It is the nature of children to be no quite curious enough about their parents. Still, her statement haunted me, "I really don't miss the farm.... except at the harvest." What was it about the time of harvest that made it different, that made it special, especially on the farm? What is it about the harvest -- this time of year when we celebrate Thanksgiving? It's not an accident that Thanksgiving is at the time of year when some of us are also bringing in the harvest.
I remember sitting at the kitchen table one day when I was small, talking to my mother. I had just gotten home from a trip out to my grandparents'farm in southwestern Minnesota. As we talked and conversed about the days, what was good and what we wished was different, I suddenly blurted out, "Oh, I wish we could go and live on the farm!" My mother looked at me, smiled, and said, "you have no idea what you are wishing for." Her response deflated me, a little. I didn't know what she was talkinga bout. I thought i had a good idea! And it's also true, as well, I didn't know what I was wishing for. I didn't know then, andp robably still don't, all of what would be involved to "go and live on the farm." I didn't know, esepcially as a young child, that the life I experienced as so gracious, so abundant, so full of adventure, to her was a life of hard work, long days, and sometimes even isolation.
ONce, a long time later, I asked her more about what it was like to grow up on a farm. She told me a little about the different chores she had, some things she had to do, and she said that she really didn't miss the farm that much. She liked living in the city, liked the opportunities, liked the community, liked the kind of work she did. She didn't really miss the farm -- except at harvest time, she said. She missed the farm at harvest time.
I wondered what it was about the harvest, about that time of year, about this time of year, that made the hard work and long days of farm life worth it. I wondered what it was that made harvest different than every other time of the year. I wondered, but I didn't ask her. It is the nature of children to be no quite curious enough about their parents. Still, her statement haunted me, "I really don't miss the farm.... except at the harvest." What was it about the time of harvest that made it different, that made it special, especially on the farm? What is it about the harvest -- this time of year when we celebrate Thanksgiving? It's not an accident that Thanksgiving is at the time of year when some of us are also bringing in the harvest.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving
Every two years since just before we were married, we've been able to spend Thanksgiving with my husband's sister and her family in Chicago. This year, for the first time, we are not able to go. There are just too many conflicting schedules to juggle.
The first time we went down, someone in the family asked me to give the blessing. (I suspect this may have been because I'm a pastor.)
In order to take a little of the heat off of myself, I decided to ask everyone to name something they were thankful for in the past year, and then design a prayer around our real "thanksgivings."
This year, here are some of mine:
-I'm thankful for my family. I'm especially thankful that my dad can be with us at Thanksgiving. My mom is taking him home from the nursing home for dinner.
-I'm thankful that my husband didn't break his wrist when he fell on the ice on Sunday.
-I'm thankful for all the talented people in my family: especially my nephew the musician, my stepsons who both are talented musicians, my sister the artist, my niece who draws manga and plays the violin
-I'm thankful for people in my congregation who get what it means to be part of the body of Christ, who pray for one another, weep with those who weep, rejoice with those who rejoice, and dream big dreams
-I'm thankful for the hope we have in the gospel, especially when I have to preach a funeral sermon
-I'm thankful for singing, and for the songs that we sing
-I'm thankful for chicken chili, popcorn, old movies, artichoke pizza, blueberries
-I'm thankful for babies who babble during the worship service
-I'm thankful for my beautiful, sweet, lovely dog Scout
-I'm thankful that I saw someone from my office wear the scarf I made for her last year.
-I'm thankful for grace.
-I'm thankful for these smells: cardamom, cinnamon, peppermint, garlic, ginger, balsam fir.
-I'm thankful the broken sewer pipe finally got fixed.
What are you thankful for?
The first time we went down, someone in the family asked me to give the blessing. (I suspect this may have been because I'm a pastor.)
In order to take a little of the heat off of myself, I decided to ask everyone to name something they were thankful for in the past year, and then design a prayer around our real "thanksgivings."
This year, here are some of mine:
-I'm thankful for my family. I'm especially thankful that my dad can be with us at Thanksgiving. My mom is taking him home from the nursing home for dinner.
-I'm thankful that my husband didn't break his wrist when he fell on the ice on Sunday.
-I'm thankful for all the talented people in my family: especially my nephew the musician, my stepsons who both are talented musicians, my sister the artist, my niece who draws manga and plays the violin
-I'm thankful for people in my congregation who get what it means to be part of the body of Christ, who pray for one another, weep with those who weep, rejoice with those who rejoice, and dream big dreams
-I'm thankful for the hope we have in the gospel, especially when I have to preach a funeral sermon
-I'm thankful for singing, and for the songs that we sing
-I'm thankful for chicken chili, popcorn, old movies, artichoke pizza, blueberries
-I'm thankful for babies who babble during the worship service
-I'm thankful for my beautiful, sweet, lovely dog Scout
-I'm thankful that I saw someone from my office wear the scarf I made for her last year.
-I'm thankful for grace.
-I'm thankful for these smells: cardamom, cinnamon, peppermint, garlic, ginger, balsam fir.
-I'm thankful the broken sewer pipe finally got fixed.
What are you thankful for?
Friday, November 27, 2009
Christmas Walk
We will be heading out soon to a "Christmas walk" in a small historic town near to us. We have never done this before here, but used to regularly attend a Christmas walk in the Chicago area when we visited at Thanksgiving.
Scout will not be able to come, of course, so I took her on a mid-day walk around the neighborhood. At a park just up the street from us, two small children shouted out, "Can we pet your dog?" Before I could say anything, they started running toward Scout, and she started backing up. So it appeared that today, at least, the answer would be, "no." Scout usually likes small children, but does get a little worried when strangers start running toward her.
The little girl then shouted, "Is that were-wolf dog?" "No," I answered. "Then why does she look like a were-wolf dog?" she asked.
Question: what does a were-wolf dog look like?
Scout will not be able to come, of course, so I took her on a mid-day walk around the neighborhood. At a park just up the street from us, two small children shouted out, "Can we pet your dog?" Before I could say anything, they started running toward Scout, and she started backing up. So it appeared that today, at least, the answer would be, "no." Scout usually likes small children, but does get a little worried when strangers start running toward her.
The little girl then shouted, "Is that were-wolf dog?" "No," I answered. "Then why does she look like a were-wolf dog?" she asked.
Question: what does a were-wolf dog look like?
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving
A favorite Table Prayer:
O Thou who clothes the lilies,
Who feeds the birds of the sky,
Who leads the lambs to pasture,
And the deer to the waterside,
Who multiplied loaves and fishes,
And changed the water to wine,
Do Thou come to our table as giver
And as our guest to dine. AMEN
If you have a few minutes, share a favorite table prayer.
O Thou who clothes the lilies,
Who feeds the birds of the sky,
Who leads the lambs to pasture,
And the deer to the waterside,
Who multiplied loaves and fishes,
And changed the water to wine,
Do Thou come to our table as giver
And as our guest to dine. AMEN
If you have a few minutes, share a favorite table prayer.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Giving Thanks
..... even as I'm experiencing a lot of other emotions, most of them unbloggable. Maybe later....
In the meantime, I hold on to this:
1. I am putting together a booklet of Faith stories from people in the congregation. We have received 11 so far, and I am so impressed by them. They are so beautiful, and tell of big and small journeys, through adversity, sickness, and grief. There are small and large moments shared, but each voice is real. I am so thankful for these stories.
2. I am thankful for the woman who I don't even know who wrote to me about knitting left-handed. She has Alzheimers and has just had knee replacement surgery, but she took the time to answer my email and reassure me that I could do it.
3. I am thankful for my husband, who encourages me when I get discouraged. I'm thankful for his faith -- I think he has faith in me, which is amazing.
4. I am thankful for enough for good food, for good books, for poetry, for my family. I'm thankful for my parents, how from my mother I am learning what it means to love one another and not give up.
5. I am thankful for tears when they are necessary, how they can be such a relief, and how they can mean so many things. I'm thankful for laughter too.
In the meantime, I hold on to this:
1. I am putting together a booklet of Faith stories from people in the congregation. We have received 11 so far, and I am so impressed by them. They are so beautiful, and tell of big and small journeys, through adversity, sickness, and grief. There are small and large moments shared, but each voice is real. I am so thankful for these stories.
2. I am thankful for the woman who I don't even know who wrote to me about knitting left-handed. She has Alzheimers and has just had knee replacement surgery, but she took the time to answer my email and reassure me that I could do it.
3. I am thankful for my husband, who encourages me when I get discouraged. I'm thankful for his faith -- I think he has faith in me, which is amazing.
4. I am thankful for enough for good food, for good books, for poetry, for my family. I'm thankful for my parents, how from my mother I am learning what it means to love one another and not give up.
5. I am thankful for tears when they are necessary, how they can be such a relief, and how they can mean so many things. I'm thankful for laughter too.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
I am being a Thanksgiving slug at a relatives' house today.
I am pondering the question: "What are you thankful for?"
I am considering the Scripture I heard at the revival Tuesday night: "In everything give thanks." In EVERYTHING give thanks. In everything GIVE thanks.
The house is filled with food, with babies, with toys.
There are still many cares. In the midst of them all, I give thanks.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving!
..... and lots of Turkey to you.
update with 7 random things I'm thankful for...(as random as I can possibly be)... (this is for redheadrev, who tagged me some time ago)
1. I'm thankful for words. I'm thankful for the words of poetry, like Mary Oliver, and George Herbert, and everything in between. I'm thankful for words to say how I'm thinking and feeling, words to ask for what I need, words to hear other people's stories, and see into others' hearts. And, I'm thankful for the Word, who expresses God's love so completely.
2. I'm thankful for soft cuddly dog fur to pet, and plush blankets to cuddle in, and fluffy slippers on my feet.
3. I'm thankful for a wide world full of places to see and people to meet.
4. I'm thankful for snow... right now, anyway... it's beautiful and snowing today, and it's crisp and crunchy on top of the grass.
5. I'm thankful for friends-in-person and friends-in-blog.
6. I'm thankful for the gift of music: reggae, ragtime, jazz and blues, gospel, classical, baroque and romantic, piano, guitar, organ, and flute.
7. I'm thankful for my husband, on on this quiet night, after all the family had left, went out to rent for us the movie, "The Twelve Chairs." Sometimes I am crabby and stressed out (more on that tomorrow), and he knows just what to do.
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