a prophetic voice-

  happy new year N ow E nter W ith hope into the new year,   Y esterday’s E nergy and experiences A bsolutely R e-formed,      resurrected,             re-shaped, S o that with D aring courage, A wareness will enlighten and inform Y our path. Happy 2013! new year's intentions   may i walk into this day with a sense of expectation,              of awareness,              of excitement & awe. may i carry with me the gifts of          hope & peace & blessing,          to welcome each person I meet          with the sense of greeting a          fellow-traveler with whom I          will share the journey for          a short while. may i surround and fill each word i speak with love & acceptance,          aware at every moment that          I am part of creating peace            or disharmony in this world. happy new year, one & all! 2013...a new year

Amazing just how lovely it is to reconnect with an old and dear friend. It happened on Friday when Bonnie, aided and abetted by my son and daughter-in-law, surprised me as I prepared to lunch at one of my favorite Charlotte restaurants. Suddenly there she was, standing in front of my table saying, "May I join you for lunch?", her dear face wreathed in smiles- and then we were hugging and laughing, our words tumbling over one another in our eagerness to catch up with one another's lives. Wonderful hardly begins to describe it, the feeling of making contact yet again with this dear friend who has shared so much of my life, and I hers. Our friendship dates back to our days in Florida in the early 1980s, when our families were part of a very special Lutheran church which became extended family for all of us. Since we both had teenagers, getting involved with youth ministry seemed a natural, cementing the bond which had begun to form form between us. When their family reloc

In Memoriam… Heart to heart In anguish reaches Helpless hands clasp Firm in prayer and Yet stretch out to Take another’s trembling Hand in solidarity and love Never more alike, never More united than when We stand in shock and grief Bewildered by those things For which there is no answer Surrounded only by questions For which no solution will Be found in this life Tears running down my cheeks Blend with those on yours- And hers and his and theirs Forming a r iver of mourning- Yet e ven in the midst of all this Grief, we are borne along On this current of sorrow Shared, compassion’s life raft Bearing us along together… Today, tomorrow, to eternity And so, in love, we remember…

                                                      Snickerdoodles   Reminiscence, remembrance…these are words of the heart as well as the mind. Words which resonate deep within, in those places where we store all of the most precious pieces of our lives, in that treasure chest from which we can retrieve them again and again, fingering them with our feelings and re-living the sights, sounds, smells as scene after scene becomes real and alive once more. Such were my thoughts this past weekend as I stood in my one-person kitchen, baking Christmas cookies. Now, I know almost everyone bakes some special cookies at this time of year, but in my family, Christmas baking has always been taken to its extremity, with days and days and days devoted to the preparation of these once-a-year treats. I don’t recall how much my great-grandmother baked, though she was in my life until I was nineteen, but since my mother and I lived with my

The supreme religious challenge is to see God's image in the one who is not in our image.   -Rabbi Jonathan Sacks   in whose image? Imagine...the Hebrew Bible commands us- in more than thirty places- to love and welcome the stranger, for each and all of us have been a stranger...somewhere, at some time... and in the stranger, we can see the face of God, welcome angels unaware.   But far too often- if honesty prevails- the only god we can see is the one made in our image...the one who looks like us and acts the way we think God should... and if God is indeed only the way I see divinity, the way you see holiness, then we can- with smug & self-righteous justification- deny the image of God in those unlike us, in our enemies. Easier by far to "worship" God than to love our neighbor (let alone our enemy!... to see the person right in front us as the unique, beautiful Child of God she is...to stand in awe of t

My work among the elderly brings me into contact with some very special people. The greatest gift I can give to them, I believe, is the ministry of presence...being with, listening, hearing what they have to say. And recently I have begun not only remembering but recording their words, trying to convey the essence of who they are- for myself, but also for you, my readers. I hope these "sketches" draw word pictures for you of 3 wonderful, uniquely different women who I have come to love and respect.   Elizabeth’s thank you… There were nine of us, she said. Nine of us and mama raised us all,               ‘til she died… Only forty-three, she was, and I was twenty-one- married with two chirren Of my own, but I raised them up, every one. My sister next to me, she did the ironin’ And got them all a-dressed and fixed for school ‘Cause I went off to work. Eight hours on my knees, scrubbin’ tiles- Didn’t have no mops in those times, Just time spent on my knees. Three places I sc

I used this blessing in my sermon this morning and received so many comments about it, plus requests for it that I decided to share it more widely here. May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live from deep within your heart.   May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of p eople, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.   May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out y our hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy. May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

Thoughts on a wintry Sunday morning And suddenly Winter is here The near-full moon rising Casting light upon trees Bereft of their leaves Benevolent feeders offer Succulence and sustenance To the birds of the air And walkers on the street Pass by bundled in ways Unseen and unimagined Only a few short days ago While on other streets and byways Those without shelter huddle Neath overpasses, pulling Their meager garments tightly Around shivering bodies Hoping the wintry weather Will be short-lived And here I sit- warm and well-fed Risen after resting in a downy bed The whys and hows of destiny As much a mystery as ever But certain that I needs must Grant Gratitude a permanent place In my heart and life

Grief is a peculiar thing. Even when we feel we have put it aside or worked through it, even when years have passed between the loss and the present time, it can re-surface without warning in unexpected and surprising ways. Such has been my experience as this holiday season begins, as I have found myself recalling the last Christmas my mom spent with us- the entire family- here at my house. She had not had a good autumn and I watched her getting progressively weaker, her pain level from the periodic vertebral fractures escalating, though she usually denied the pain, feeling that pain medication made her too drowsy. I was tired from the care-giving, from carrying the full burden of the household on my sometimes weary shoulders, and so I announced my intention of not putting up a tree that Christmas. Mother received the news quietly, as was her way, but after several days had passed, she very gently asked me if I wouldn't reconsider as she would love to have a Christmas tree so we

Where has November gone? It seems like just yesterday the month was beginning and now Thanksgiving approaches. Most of the trees in my yard are nearly bare, though the lovely Japanese maple is clinging to her leaves which turned color only recently, setting the side yard aflame with an incredible red fire. As I sit here contemplating the week ahead, I am filled with gratitude, perhaps more than ever before...and I am giving thanks for so very many things. First, I am incredibly thankful that my sister, Kathy, will be celebrating her birthday this week, after a long and challenging summer of surgery and chemotherapy. Her voice over the phone sounds so hope-filled and positive and I surround her with love and light and prayers each day, that there may be many, many more birthdays ahead for her. Then, of course, I am thankful for my three children and nine grandchildren, such unique individuals and yet, collectively, a delightful conglomeration of faces and personalities and talents

Seems like it was only a few days ago that the world around me was a rich, verdant green. And then, suddenly, it was as if a delightfully capricious artistic Deity danced across the landscape, randomly scattering colors from the divine palette- reds, oranges, yellows, golds…creating a breathtakingly beautiful landscape, a reminder of the many ways the Creator manifests love to all creation, to all creatures.   And perhaps the only appropriate response- after our breath is restored- is to breaathe a heartfelt “Thank you.”

There is something so satisfying about going to bed totally tired, isn't there? Accompanied by the sense of tasks completed, of things being put in order, of the newness of fresh paint and old things cleared away, or simply re-ordered. It seems to put life into a different perspective, to renew an appreciation for what is, to bring a brightness and clarity which had been lacking somehow. This was my experience last evening as, bone-tired and aching, I stretched out on my comfortable bed at 8:30, preparing for a good night's rest. All week long the house had been disordered, disheveled, as painters performed their house magic, doing tasks which I was unable to perform myself- repairing ceiling cracks (the bane of old houses) and painting inside and out, here and there. My dining room had become the repository for items from my study while the painting was taking place and the upstairs hallway's photos and furniture had been relocated into the spare bedroom. Things were a m

Demons and hell and self-mutilation! This is the stuff of which our gospel reading today is made. In this reading, Jesus turns the spotlight on the disciples themselves, the story beginning with the disciples complaining to Jesus about a “rival” exorcist who was casting out demons “in Jesus’ name” and was apparently being successful, but who was clearly not one of “them”. Jesus, however, is not taken in by their gripes. Rather, he wants them to pay attention to their own behavior and where it will lead.   The first audience to receive the gospel of Mark were those in early Christian communities who were struggling in the midst of persecution, who were in conflict over Jewish-Gentile relations, and who were dealing with all of the growing pains of an infant church seeking identity and faithful witness. Christian groups disagreed with one another, contested each other’s claims, and even sought to censure one another, to decide who was “in” and who was “outside”.   It is within