Goodtime Jesus by James Tate

Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dream-
ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?
A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled
back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beau-
tiful day. How 'bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a little
ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.

I hear America singing, by Walt Witman

I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; 5
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs. 10

70 or 80 years

Gotta see the irony in preaching Psalm 90 tomorrow and Pete's mother being in the hospital today. She's 80 years old and not in the best health. Psalm 90 contains the phrase, "we've been given 70 years, if we're lucky 80." And the hope of the psalmist is that we would learn how to number our days that we would gain a wise heart.

How do we number our days? How do we measure a year (as the song asks?)

I say relationships, I say love, I say risks, I say hard conversations, I say honest answers, I say every breath easily taken because of faith and hope. Count 'em up - that's living.

Chimidunchik

I'm reading a fantastic book called Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, the founder of the Omega Institute. One chapter tells this fantastic story -

There is this man on a train, a crowded train and the man asks another if he would move the bag next to him. The man does nothing. It's a polish joke, or maybe a Russian joke... but an old joke and the old word for baggage was chimidunchik. The man asks again, and is once again ignored. More people enter the train. The man asks again and is ignored again and he gets so frustrated that he just starts yelling, "move your chimidunchik, move your chimidunchik..." He gets so angry that he picks up the bag and throws it out the window. He looks at the seatmate and says, "what are you going to do?" The man says, "nothing. it wasn't my chimidunchik."

Everyone has their own chimidunchik... and only we can carry it.

thoughts on Philippians 4

But prayer is not just passive, we can’t just offer this to God, and assume God will take care of it all… we must both extract negative thoughts from our minds and replace them with good thoughts.

What’s with good thoughts? How do good thoughts work?

In college, my roommate and I would do this little exercise if we were having a really bad day. We would force each other to think of three things for which we were thankful.

It may sound easy, but not if you’re really focused on bad things. It’s hard but it works.

Can we go back to science for a bit?

There have been studies that show the affects of thoughts like shame, guilt, apathy, despair, fear, anger. These thoughts actually create weakness in us physically.

On the flip side – thoughts of love, peace, joy, acceptance, willingness make us stronger.

A pic to go with article below

Community Organizers

While I admit that I was horribly entertained during Sarah Palin's acceptance speech a few weeks ago, I also admit that the next day I felt "dirty." Somewhere in my gut, I began to realize that all of those well executed jokes in her speech were really aimed at me and the things that I value most.

And those became more clear to me personally when I was invited to join a facebook group appropriately named, "Clergy are community organizers too." I smiled, and clicked join. The joy that I have found in supporting Obama for America stems from an absolute belief that government can be done differently. Government could be for the people by the people. Government could be changed, just like other horrible issues in our history have been changed... through grass roots efforts led by gifted, passionate community organizers.

Here's my personal truth though... I didn't always belief this way. During my Anti-racism training I remember saying aloud, "community organizing is something that was done in the 60's, it just sounds stupid now." I obvsiously didn't know what I was talking about. And the other folks in the room knew that I didn't know what I was talking about. They carefully, lovingly, clearly corrected me. They gave me examples from my worldview that simply wouldn't be if not for community organizers.

I would not have the right to vote.
I would not have the freedom to pursue a career.
I would not be a women clergy person... had there not been grass roots efforts led by gifted, passionate community organizers.

This post is my own effort to wipe off the dirt slung at me and others during Palin's speech and move on. This is my own commitment to be the type of gifted, passionate organizer within my community, in my corner of the globe that leads others to peace, justice, and kindness.

the reserved spaces in our hearts

Dan had mono his first year in college. I had been dating his dad for a couple months at this point and had only met him once. I took medication to him. And as I walked out of his dorm room, down the hall to the elevator, I thought to myself, "I'm completely unqualified to do this." I was in over my head. And yet by the time I got to my car, I could not deny that there was a space reserved for Dan in my heart. I could feel it, its door opened left center in my chest cavity.

The door opened again yesterday, the space had been redecorated. It belonged to his wife, Faith. She'd already moved in over a year ago, claimed our clan's name almost a year now. But I had forgotten the physical sense of this space until yesterday. Yesterday was a day for Faith. A day in the hospital, a day dreaming about grandchildren, a day praying for doctors, a day to rub Dan's back and swallow tears. It was a day to hold onto Faith.

And when I did... the door opened again in that same visceral sense that I had years ago. There was a space reserved for today. We had only to arrive with Faith.

Recreating the Big Band

Scientists have been working diligently on a particle accelerator in hopes to recreate the big bang. Beware that during the experiment there is a slight possibility that we will be dragged into a black hole.

Really?

Check out article with picture

the leadership vacuum

Last night at our Presbytery meeting, I was overwhelmed by the volatility that has obviously come from a long period of insecurity. We've held what seems to be the 4th conversation about what our executive presbytery would do, how we might pay this person in addition to an associate, and whether or not a committee can work while we're deciding. Shoot me!

If one of our churches had a meeting like this, we'd never let them have a pastor yet. We would demand an interim. Why then, at the Presbytery level, are we so afraid of having an interim? I have an idea... we lack leadership.

Here's my argument: Leaders, real leaders, know how to follow. I'm totally ready to have a leader of our Presbytery point us in a direction... I'm in. leaders know how to follow. We respond to even the idea of leadership with so much fear, I have grown to believe that we don't know how to follow, we don't want to follow, we don't want to be told what to do. We are not comfortable being led. We are not leaders ourselves.

If we were, we would welcome leadership. We would not spend over an hour arguing over a motion and an amendment to the motion that delays leadership.

stages of grief

My husband was diagnosed with MS two years ago.

We've circled through the stages of grief, always skipping the elusive final stage called "acceptance." I've learned that denial is one of the strongest forces on earth. My mood has slouched lower than I thought possible with what what "they" call "acute depression. I hope you don't mind me offering this learning: prayer is a form of bargaining. I spent long hours bargaining with God through stage 3. But it's stage 2 that I like the best.

Anger is a reasonable state of mind. Anger is easy. Anger has its own fuel source. Anger is provoked. Anger is a brewed pot of coffee ready to be poured. I return to this stage often... it's become a close friend.

The Friendship of Women by Joan Chittister

I'm working through a new book that takes great liberties with women from scripture about whom we know little. Drawing from snippets of information, the author gathers character information and then concludes behavior likened to true friends.

The most amazing part of the book so far is the historical understanding of friendship. Did you know that there was a time that the world believed women to be without the ability to develop and sustained lasting, meaningful friendship?