a prophetic voice-

Life takes on a different rhythm when you are sitting in a hospital room, either waiting the return of a loved one from surgery or being part of a team of folks who are encouraging, caring for, and uplifting that same loved one during their post-op recovery period. The hands on the clock move oh-so-slowly as time creeps from morning to afternoon to evening, the hours filled only with the routines which are meant to enhance the healing process. Here at Inova Medical Center in Falls Church, VA, with my sisters, one of whom is the patient and the other of whom is a co-encourager, I am filled with an ever-increasing appreciation for and awareness of so many things: the fragility of life; the wonder of my own good health; the glory of each morning’s sunrise; the gift of helping friends and caring family, both far and near; the amazement of sisterhood; the joy of side-splitting laughter; the reality of aging and all it holds. Here on the Gynecology Unit, surrounded by rooms filled with

I have been surrounded by death these past couple of weeks, with three of our residents at the Lutheran Home dying in close succession. And this evening, I am quite emotionally exhausted after attending 3 funerals in as many days...only to find that another one of our residents seems to be nearing the end. More on that later... Over the years, I have attended and officiated at innumerable funerals and I am biased enough to admit that I believe the Lutheran funeral service is quite beautiful and very meaningful... and I have received comments to that effect by non-Lutheran attendees at many of the funerals I have been privileged to conduct. None of the three this week were Lutheran funerals and each was totally different from the other two...and I left each with very different feelings and reactions. The first was held at an AME Zion church, a lovely little place with a beautiful cemetery. The sanctuary was filled, and the spirit of the service was a mixture of celebration and tears,

Two perfect days, filled with nothing special- except…     getting up without an alarm clock…     eating meals on the screened porch…     every window in the house open, inviting in the cleansing breeze…     the continuous symphony of birdsong and wind chimes…     completing one book and beginning another…     the cleansing ritual of doing laundry…     a visit to Starbucks, another to Barnes & Noble…     wrapping birthday gifts for my best friend and two of the grands…     cooking wholesome, simple, delicious meals…     a phone conversation with a dear friend, the first in several years…    venturing to the new Whole Foods Market…    amazing, glorious weather with sunshine and blue skies...    and hours of silence, free of human voices, human sounds, except at a                distance…    breathing deeply, my breath a prayer for my precious sister, preparing for surgery; for my friend, Mary, undergoing radiation therapy; for my children…for all the dear dep

It’s Saturday morning, and I am sitting in the customer lounge at the Honda dealership waiting to have my car serviced. A couple of days ago, the little wrench lighted up on my dashboard, accompanied by the symbols A 13 which, combined, mean oil change, tire rotation, and cleaning and resetting of brake calipers. Who knew? Actually, on the day the little wrench began glowing it felt like just one more thing…one more plate I had to keep rotating or balancing in the air, in addition to all the others. My life right now, you see, feels a bit like those jugglers who left me breathless as a child, the ones appearing on the “Ed Sullivan Show” on Sunday evenings who managed to keep numerous plates spinning on rods, all the while tossing ten pins or balls into the air, while an assistant on the sidelines kept tossing additional items into the mix. I recall these amazing jugglers (most often men) moving rapidly, their attention divided yet completely focused on each task at hand, moving rapid

Sometimes, what seems to have become generally-accepted behavior in our society runs completely counter to what I think/believe/know from experience. And such is the present seeming inability or unwillingness to see a change of mind or heart as a good thing, as a growing edge, as a sign of maturity and openness to being changed by new information, by new life experiences. Instead, in our world, especially in the highly-charged world of party politics, heightened and exaggerated by the media, to have a change of mind is seen and touted and criticized as “waffling”, as being “wishy-washy”, and becomes a place of political vulnerability and perceived weakness. Now I don’t know about you, but I have changed my mind innumerable times over the years, altered my position in the light of new information, taken a different road because the road I was traveling was leading to a dead-end. And I have had to admit I was wrong more than once… to eat the proverbial humble pie as I have backed of

M aking home a lovely place, and      safe and warm O pening arms and heart to      welcome and include T aking time to listen, to wipe a       tear, to kiss a hurt H ealing with her touch, letting       HOPE be her watchword E ven when things seem hopeless       and dark clouds hide the sun R emembering and reminding       that you are her beloved child,       no matter what

"In the beginning was the Word..." "In the beginning...God said..." The Gospel of John reflecting back on the words of Genesis, valuing and venerating words...the spoken and the written and the lived out. And for all my life, I have been a "word" person...a reader and writer and speaker and singer, relishing and cherishing words, the delicious taste of them in my mouth and oozing from my pen; valuing highly the gift of the use of language. Words surround me in stacks of books and shelves of books and DVDs, in my journals and volumes of poetry, both read and written. But it has only been in recent years that I have begun to surround myself with words in other ways: wearing jewelry which "speaks", bearing words of encouragement and strength and power, as well as filling my living space with words which enlighten and inspire... yet another way in which the Word is fleshed out. And in this way, the phrase, "the Living Word" has tak

I read a startling statement this week: “The dominant religious tradition in our society is to worship the family .”   Interesting, isn’t it? TV preachers exhort us to embrace ”traditional family values”-   whatever they are- and whose tradition are we talking    about anyway? and campaign to defend the family from perceived  threats. Churches market themselves as being “family friendly,”    and see “family  ministries” as not only being a sure fire growth strategy but as integral to the nature and purposes of the Church. However, the emphasis on families and family life can be quite alienating for some people. If perfect happy families- one mother, one dad, and children- are the ideal image of the Christian life, not everybody is able to measure up. For some, the experience of  family  life has been one of oppression and fear, or even outright brutality. For others it has just been awkward and disappointing. For still others, it has turned out to be an impossible dream…