Waiting

         
          I am up quite early, 4:00 am, sitting in my sunroom, listening to the quiet of the lingering nighttime. All the dogs are asleep, curled up on their beds and/or the couch. Two of them are dreaming, moving their paws in imagined runs. All is silent except for the softly snuffling canine sounds and the water in the koi pond as it cascades down the rocks into the pool below it. This is my bit of Eden, silent as it awaits the dawn of day and the approach of spring.

          After the several soggy rainy days we have had of late, yesterday I found myself drawn to my back yard. I took stock of the daffodil, daylily and peony plants pushing up through the earth. I tended to all the birdfeeders, lest the wrens and woodpeckers worked themselves into a frenzy impatiently waiting for the morsels of nuts and seeds to be replenished.

          I wandered over to the koi pond to take stock of the fish. During the winter, the fish go to the bottom of the pond or hide out in their cave in the wall of the pond. Near the end of each winter, I make my first fish count, hoping to find all the fish I had at the end of autumn. The fish scatter and dive to the pond's bottom when they sense my presence. They have forgotten who I am and  the relationship I share with them during the warm days of each year.
 
          I call one of the koi my ghost fish. He is beautiful- totally black except for a striking grey color on the outer edges on each of his fins. But for all his beauty, on the best of summer days when the pond water is crystal clear, he is difficult to find swimming against the black backdrop of the pond's liner. I saw every fish present and accounted for but the ghost fish. I even found a surprise fingerling, perhaps three or four inches long, a beautiful solid yellow-gold color. I scanned the water a few more times, searching for the ghost fish. Eventually, as I turned to walk away, I caught a glimpse of silver skimming just under the water's surface.

          I suspect winter, with its cold wet days, has not really left us. While it is not yet over, at least we know it is drawing to a close. With each passing day, I find myself thinking about and planning for the work I have to do to care for my small garden of Eden.
         
          During this season of Lent, I have been taking stock. I have been examining who I think I am, who I think I am called to be and who others see me as being. I am taking stock of all the gifts life has given me and taking stock of how I have cared for those gifts. I am taking stock of my commitment to God in relation to God's commitment to me. I am taking stock of what I think I need do to increase and strengthen my commitment to Christ and his Church.

          Just as I expectantly await the return of spring, the blooms of daffodils and peonies, and the return of warmer crystal clear water with opportunities to feed the koi from my hands and feel them gracefully swim along my legs and arms, I eagerly await the celebration of Easter and Jesus's resurrection. But while I wait, I take stock of the work I have done and the work I have yet to do to care for God's people and creation.

Dying As Gift

Growing up in a culture that embraced death has not been familiar to me.  In fact, we just did not talk about it even though it may have been on everyone’s minds.  Children did not go to funerals and certainly did not see the body of a deceased person.  If someone began to talk about their death, the usual response was – “now don’t talk about that – you are fine.”   All of those thoughts that came naturally about death, just got submerged deep within  and created a mountain of fear.   It has taken much unlearning for me to move away from this view point.

I recently ran across a meditation from Henri Nouwen entitled Dying Well.  It is a keeper.  It does not dismiss the idea of a bucket list but most of the things that many of us put on that list are self indulgent, leaving no lasting gift for the world from which we depart.  It is as though we are in this race to fit everything in that we could possibly want to do.  All of the attention is on me.  What if most of the things that we put on our lists are things that will continue to give after we are gone?  Can I give my spirit away every day so that I have none left?  Will that spirit continue on in the generations after me? 

The idea of dying well is life-giving to me.  It gives me a renewed energy towards my work, family, friends, home, church, and self.   Is it possible that this giving away of self is the abundant life that Jesus talked about?  This is a life that will never die.  This Lent may we let go of more of those things that do not matter, embrace the things that do, and give our life away.  

• ·         Be present to whoever and whatever you are with

• ·         Give of yourself completely to whatever task is in front of you

• ·         Walk a little slower, taking notice of the abundance around you

• ·         Let go of the need to buy and give more to what is sustaining for all

• ·         Give thanks every day, even in sickness and death for this incredible gift of life we have     been given

• ·         Use your gifts up!

What would you add:

• ·         ________________________________________________________________

• ·         ________________________________________________________________

Greatest Love Story

Valentine’s Day. This holiday has never really meant that much to me. Yes, I got little Valentine’s Day cards while in elementary school, and I receive something from my family every year. However, since I have been single for most of my life and Valentine’s Day tends to revolve around couples, I always try to celebrate love and push the romantic aspect of the day out of my mind.

Recently, I read a book on welcoming and including singles in the church. One of the author’s main points was learning to love others and include others in your life that aren’t in the same stage of life as you are. This idea struck me, especially so close to Valentine’s Day. Why does this holiday have to center so much on romantic love? Why can’t it be more about love: the love of family, the love of friendship, the love of mentorship, and the love of people? As human beings, we were made for companionship. We need each other, whether we are married or single. We all could always have one more friend, someone to get to know and with whom to share life. Yes, it can be hard to get to know new people, but take a chance. Reach out to someone that is different than you are or someone in a contrasting time of life than you. They might teach you something new, something about their struggles or their accomplishments, and, who knows, they might need you just as much as you need them. Valentine’s Day should be about love, not just romantic love.

For the first time since 1945, Ash Wednesday falls on Valentine’s Day. Ash Wednesday starts our Lenten journey. This solemn journey starts with ashes, reminding us of who we are as humans and to dust we shall return. But, at the end of this journey, we celebrate Christ’s redemptive work of the cross in His glorious resurrection. Through Lent and Holy Week, we see the greatest love story of all time unfold. Jesus Christ loves us so much that He endured the cross, a brutal death, and took upon Himself our sin. He did that for us, for YOU. No matter where we are in life or what we have done, we can come to Him and receive His gift of love and redemption.

There isn’t any greater love than His. May we attempt to begin to understand His love for us in our Lenten journey this year, and may we strive to take it and give that love to the world.

A place. A space. A home.

We recently updated our youth space in the basement. We have a coordinated area to eat, all together, during our weekly youth meetings. The kids were so excited to see the makeover. They loved the color scheme and felt like it was cool and exciting. Much more their style. However, I overheard a conversation between the kids at a recent talk where several mentioned that they didnʼt want to be “stuck in a dark, dingy basement” all the time. Sure, the paint and chairs updated the space but ultimately the kids want something more. They need something more. In the last few months since Iʼve been in my role as youth minister, these kids have taught me so much about Jesus and love. They are desperate to get out and “be” the Church. They want to work, to serve, to love outside these walls. So, why then are we updating a building? Why do it if they want to be out? You see these youth want to serve. Because they’ve seen it. This world, this time, their friends...are a mess. Theyʼre dealing with so much more than you or I ever thought about when we were teens. Suicide, addiction, bullying, stress, anxiety, mental illness, the list goes on and on. That messy, broken, ugly world out there needs a place to come. A place to drop their fears and worries. And that place should be the church. We should be a place where the kids want to bring their friends. Where they seek solace. Where they come for answers or a hug or a shoulder to cry. When the world gets to be too much they should come to us. When they are overwhelmed by the fear or pain or loss. They should feel welcome. Does the paint color matter? Probably not. But does it matter if they have a space that makes them feel included? Wanted? Respected? Cherished? Yes! The church is for them. With them. The proposed renovations are vital for us to be able to meet our kids where they are. And for those children growing into the messy world. Itʼs for them too. So they know they matter. They have a place. A space. A home.


Rachel Long, Youth Minister