Momma's Day

To all the mothering types of the world: Happy Mother's Day. As I discovered many of my colleagues do, I struggle with the inclusion of Mother's Day on Sunday morning. For some it's a great day of joy and happiness, but for so many others, it's just NOT. For women who long to give birth but can't, for women whose children - of any age - have preceded them in death, for men and women who have difficult relationships with their moms... so many reasons that it can be a harder than average day.
There was much discussion on the RevGalBlogPals blog about Mother's Day and how to include it, or not, in worship. One of the most helpful pieces was posted at a pearl down under. I included this litany in the prayers of intercession this morning. I think it's pretty great.

Of course, this is my first momma's day as a momma, and apart from the sleep deprivation, I have to say it's been a good day. I got to talk to my Mom and my Mom-in-law. G gave me a great card and a gift certificate to the spa at the hospital (where I had an absolutely GLORIOUS pre-natal massage about a month before baby arrived). And I got to spend the day snuggling with one of the cutest kids ever. Here's a photo (taken 13 days ago) of the Munchkin whose Momma I am blessed to be:

A death in the human family

Just before I turned off the computer last night and finally headed to bed, I saw the headlines that Osama bin Laden had been killed, and listened to the President's speech about it.
It's been hard to avoid coverage about it - front page of the paper, all over the news, and even all over facebook. I am thankful that so many of my friends who "demand a deeper ethic for the world," as one new facebook pal put it.
Check out tensegrities, and the links offered there.
Maybe... someday we will actually remember to pray for our enemies, and to love them, until the only enemy left is death itself.

What follows is the letter to all the members of my denomination, the ELCA, from our Presiding Bishop. Not bad.

Sisters and brothers in Christ,

 The death of Osama bin Laden is an occasion for solemn remembrance. We remember the lives of all whose deaths resulted from his choosing hatred and violence. We stand with those who continue to mourn the death of loved ones while giving thanks for their lives, their love and their faith. We also continue to hold in prayer all whose service in the military, in government and in humanitarian and peacemaking activities contribute to a safer and more prosperous world.

At the same time we also recall who we are: people baptized into Christ, freed to serve our neighbors. We are people called as Christ’s ambassadors of reconciliation with our neighbors, serving God’s work of restoring community. We engage our neighbors of other faiths, including our Muslim neighbors near and far, in respectful, searching dialogue and shared commitment to build a world that reflects God’s will for peace with justice. We pray for our neighbors, even those who are our enemies.
Most of all, in these 50 days of celebrating Christ’s resurrection, joy finds its fullest and deepest expression not over a human death but in God’s promise to unite all things in heaven and on earth, to reconcile the human family and to bring God’s reign of peace. Confident in what God has promised, we witness our resolve against any act of violence in the name of religion and our renewed commitment of service to the neighbors and world God so deeply loves.

In God’s grace,

Mark S. Hanson

That Thursday

"Do you know what I have done to you?" he asked that night.
Twenty-four damp feet shifted. That's a rhetorical question, right?
No matter, he didn't even pause for effect.

"Do we know what you have done for us?" Sure, Teacher. No problem, Lord.

Wait.

What was the question?

What have you done to us?
     Why did you take off your outer robe?
What have you done to me?
     Not just my feet but my hands and my head, and my elbows, my knees, my eyes, ears, lips...

"Do you know what I have done to you?"

Sometimes. Sometimes I know.
Sometimes I know,
     the way I remember a dream for all of thirty seconds when I wake up;
     the way the lyrics to that song are almost on the tip of my tongue;
     the way my child looks into my eyes and sees things I didn't even know were there;
     the way all I ever hoped and longed for is suddenly mine, having been there all along.

I know now, in this moment. But I am prone to forgetfullness, and to distrust what I know.
I need you to remind me. Command me. Send me back to the basin and the towel.

Only One Thing

I've got only one thing to say tonight: Amen, come Lord Jesus.

Early Morning Privileges

My alarm went off at 5:30am this morning. While I realize this is a perfectly normal time for a lot people I know, including my husband, it is pretty darn early for me. My excuse is that I used up my lifetime supply of early mornings during the two and a half years I worked for Starbucks (when the store opened at 5:30am and we had to be there at 5am, which meant I got up at 4am to shower and get there on time...). As painful, and cold, as it was this morning, I was glad to get up. An eight year old member of the congregation I serve was scheduled for surgery, and he and his parents were to be at the hospital at 6:15am. I got there about 6:20. The coffee cart on the first floor had yet to open for the day - you know you're early when you beat the coffee lady. There were three or four nurses on the surgery floor, walking with purpose from their station into rooms with curtains pulled for patient privacy. They asked questions, took blood pressures, checked temperatures, and made sure all the information was correct - so much activity happening in those lighted spaces, when the world around was still sleeping and covered in darkness. I witnessed the beginning of the pre-surgery routine: child patient in gown and reclining in the bed even though he was ready to bounce off the walls, nurse in and out of the room, parents smiling for their son and trying not to let their concern and worry show enough to concern and worry him. My young friend introduced his parents to the nurse, and introduced me as "our pastor." I have never been happier to bear that title. I hope he knew that I was there for him, and for his parents. We joked, talked a little about the procedure, and then we prayed one of the most heartfelt kinds of prayer - we knew we weren't in control, we asked for God's presence, we prayed for the blessing of others and their skills, we asked for the gift of trust and hope, we prayed for healing and health. His parents thanked me over and over for getting up so early, for being there. I said "you're welcome" as a reflex. And added, "It's what we do. It's who we are. And it is my privilege to be here." I never cease to be amazed at the access people grant us pastor-types into their lives, to be witnesses, to be signs of God's presence among us, to represent the family of faith, to help find the words to give meaning to the best and worst times. What a privilege. *the surgery went well and my friend is on the mend. Wahoo!

Julian of Norwich

Today is the feast day of Julian of Norwich. I'm a fan of hers. This is one of my favorite "cover prayers":

In you, Father all-mighty, we have our preservation and our bliss.

In you, Christ, we have our restoring and our saving.

You are our mother, brother, and savior.

In you, our Lord the Holy Spirit, is marvelous and plenteous grace.

You are our clothing; for love you wrap us and embrace us.

You are our maker, our lover, our keeper.

Teach us to believe that by your grace all shall be well,

and all shall be well,

and all manner of things shall be well.

Amen

Icon written by Lu Bro