tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111739242011-11-27T19:46:30.406-05:00A caregiver chasing the clouds of chronic illness... although sometimes the clouds chase me.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.comBlogger851100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-30197537249718845292010-09-27T11:47:00.000-04:002010-09-27T11:47:01.675-04:00

Proverbs 17:22, "A merry heart does good like medicine."   Pete is a deacon at my church.  At our church, our deacons, visit the sick, the hurting, the lonely.  They make friends with the friendless.  They pray for and with people.  They deal in meaningful touch and smiles.  They work hard and face difficult situations together.  And when they get together at their monthly meeting, they laugh

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-73973044464108892282010-09-21T08:03:00.000-04:002010-09-21T08:03:49.707-04:00

The reason for my silence this past month is simple really... I've been hunting for God.  Be very quiet... I'm hunting for God.  Don't worry - it's not a discouraging search like one of those times where you're sure you've made the wrong choice in believing that there is a God.  I'm in no danger with this search.  It's not as if my faith is damaged beyond repair.  It's that my faith has

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-26707937868620033102010-08-31T08:55:00.000-04:002010-08-31T08:55:36.827-04:00

I enjoy walking in the mornings.  I've traced a couple miles worth of sidewalks around my townhome development.  On Saturday mornings, a neighbor and his dog sit on the front porch.  On my second loop, he pauses from smoking his pipe to ask me, "forget something?"  I know exactly where the dogs are in the neighborhood because they bark when I pass.  I miss them if they are napping.  I have

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-5912140820549113212010-08-23T08:43:00.006-04:002010-08-23T11:47:15.312-04:00

I read Matthew Sanford's book, Waking recently.  (Krista Tippet in Speaking of Faith did a fantastic interview with him that you can find here.) In his book he speaks of "healing stories."   When Matthew Sanford was 13 years old, he was in a tragic car accident that killed his father and sister.  When his surviving mother and brother explained the extent of his injuries to him, his mind responded

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-38630635455878719612010-08-19T10:45:00.000-04:002010-08-19T10:45:16.306-04:00

I love to swim.  I swam competitively in high school - my favorite race was the 200 meter freestyle, not a sprint not really distance race either.  The race requires a steady, yet fast-paced stride.  In so many ways, that race describes the life that I want.  I like a fast paced life but I like life to happen steadily not in spurts.  In fact, I plan it that way.  I keep a calendar and I consult

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-20094175402630365852010-08-11T12:44:00.000-04:002010-08-11T12:44:51.302-04:00

I married Pete almost 15 years ago.  He's 18 years older than me.  He had a double bypass the year before we were married.  I was born the year he graduated from high school - I was a child still.  You can imagine that our family and friends had reasonable concerns about our future together.  In their polite way, they asked us whether or not this was a "good idea."  What if she isn't good for the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-40920438429972582462010-08-08T20:24:00.000-04:002010-08-08T20:24:40.719-04:00

At the door of our bedroom, there's a pile of Pete's clothes on the floor in front of his closet.  Half of my closet resides at the base of our bed or on our comfy chair.  Our closets threw up the other day when I had a meltdown.  I had a meltdown. (I'd like to give a full disclaimer at this point... this - this kind of experience - is why this kind of book is not written yet.  People who are

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-41508221138089881162010-08-03T05:24:00.000-04:002010-08-03T05:24:39.456-04:00

We purchased a new "assistive device" today.  Every time I write the word "assistive," spell check would like me to reconsider.  For the record, I'm right, it's wrong.  His snazzy new ride is pictured to the right. If you would indulge me in some of its features... In its current configuration, it serves as a transport wheelchair.  Pete doesn't really need a wheelchair most of the time.  He's a

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-16417963816598447222010-07-30T11:13:00.001-04:002010-07-30T22:47:55.732-04:00

A few years ago a very good friend and colleague dropped an article on my desk that began with the statistic, "72% of marriages dealing with chronic illness ends in divorce."  The statistic was in a larger font than the rest of the article.  I gulped the sentence down in one bite, put the article down and never read the rest of it. Married people who are struggling with a chronic illness don't

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-2192640468362291972010-07-28T08:57:00.003-04:002010-07-28T09:26:29.588-04:00

Christians believe in the resurrection of the dead.  My 21st century sensibilities are challenged by this. The first time I considered resurrection was when a friend, Dave died after a battle with brain cancer.  A few of us were sitting around discussing the biblical story about Jesus coming back from the dead.  In this story, he shows up while his friends were having a meal.  They don't

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-40627669460051147512010-07-26T08:45:00.000-04:002010-07-26T08:45:32.772-04:00

Let's talk about anger.  My family does anger pretty well.  Pete's family... not so much.  Pete swears that his parents never fought in front of him.  Let's just say, I remember enough family fights to channel a variety of people when I'm fighting.  There's a line in Jerry Maguire where Jerry and Rod Tidwell are talking (loudly).  Jerry starts to walk away and Rod says, "See Jerry, you think

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-92110108171367020222010-07-23T13:20:00.001-04:002010-07-23T13:21:46.342-04:00

I went to visit a parishoner yesterday in the hospital.  She has alzheimer's and her husband recently died.  His memorial service is tomorrow and she won't be able to attend.  As you can imagine that decision was difficult for her family to make.  Their mother had fallen and was in pain.  Certainly they didn't want to prolong her pain.  They questioned whether or not she really understands that

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-5244570971405520292010-07-21T20:05:00.000-04:002010-07-21T20:05:00.433-04:00

When I was in seminary, I wrote these words, "My sister bought me my first yoga mat, a birthday gift during my last year of seminary. I began to come home after class and pop in my yoga tape. For twenty minutes, I stretched and breathed. I held strong poses, with my arms lifted to the heavens. Each time there was a magic moment when the instructor said, “now, with soft eyes, look up.” With

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-77197837079097657442010-07-20T20:16:00.000-04:002010-07-20T20:16:00.609-04:00

It didn't take very long for me to realize that Pete and his two sons were the gift that I didn't know I wanted or needed. They're funny, clever, giving, and committed to one another. Once the eldest gave me a card that said something like, "If we were being chased in the jungle by a monster and you fell, I'd go back for you." And then these handwritten words were added, "and the youngest

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-49269052538744274602010-07-19T20:05:00.000-04:002010-07-19T20:05:00.460-04:00

Yesterday Pete broke a mug as he was putting away the dishes. I wasn't bothered by Pete breaking a mug (the drugs must be working). I was glad that it wasn't another wine glass (I'm down to three reasonably sized wine glasses.) I woke up this morning thinking about the friend who had given me that particular mug (that now lives in the trash.) The mug said, "friends are forever" and it had a

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-88612990510397896892010-07-18T20:30:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:11:07.952-04:00

When Pete was first diagnosed, our friends made us dinner every single Sunday night. I had just started my job as a pastor... there I said it. I'm the pastor of a Presbyterian Church. I started in September 2005 having just graduated from seminary. Pete was diagnosed in November 2005. The day that he found out that he had MS, I was setting up for a luncheon at church and one of the members (

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-91537036747187251012010-07-17T20:42:00.000-04:002010-07-17T22:09:57.042-04:00

If my life were a playlist, this conversation is on regular rotation. I say, "Don't you think we should take ________, just in case you're tired later?" He says, "No, I'll be fine." I say, "It seems like you're having a harder time with ________." Silence as Pete begins to leave the house just as he was. I add, "I'm just saying that it might be easier for me if we had options once we got there

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-44737183478108579332010-07-15T03:13:00.000-04:002010-07-17T22:11:26.582-04:00

It's 3am. In monastic Christianity, this is one of the "hours." Communities of Christians have often lived by a regiment of prayer, eight fixed times for prayer and meditation. The first hour is during the night at 3am. People, primarily women everywhere talk about the 3am hour. In fact when I finally talked to my friends about getting up at 3am, they said, "welcome to the club." Are you

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-30110966934031277642010-07-13T16:30:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:12:49.881-04:00

When Pete was first diagnosed, our son's girlfriend (now wife) suggested that we register for an MS walk together. She said, "We'll have our own Team Scibienski." The sentiment was loving and she intended to find a way to come closer to me in my grief but all I heard was that we needed a "Team Scibienski." And at the time, I couldn't imagine needing that much help. Will our life really need a

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-41453958467054985472010-07-12T17:55:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:16:18.715-04:00

We were right outside of Philadelphia when a conversation ensued about the value of social media. Neither son is on Facebook; one signed up for twitter just to follow a guy called "shit my dad says." (If you haven't checked him out, please do so. If you don't think he's funny, try "Jesus never said.") Anyway, while I was defending the merits of social media, I missed my exit to the hospital.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-54593236919966346062010-07-11T17:01:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:18:03.147-04:00

We had our bi-annual visit with the neurologist last week. This is our third neurologist. It makes us sound fickle but it isn't like that. A physician friend counseled me when we were going through the diagnosis stage of the game. She said, "you need to keep going to a different physician until you find one that you believe." She was right. I didn't believe her at first though. The first

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-65042305024310555372010-07-10T16:22:00.001-04:002010-07-18T21:19:26.204-04:00

I renewed my commitment to writing and that worked for three days. But I took the last four off. Why do I do that? I'll tell you why... I told my family that I had starting writing again. And they're the reason that I'm afraid to write. Let me say more about that. The reason that I wanted to write down my thoughts about grief was because I couldn't find a book that resonated with me. Don't

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-66829483031013103352010-07-05T08:04:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:20:23.965-04:00

Most people go to the doctor once a year. Not true for those of us dealing with chronic illness. Doctors are practically part of our family. Some of our doctors know our weekly activities and they remember our kid's names. Take for example, our chiropractors... Dr. Mike and Dr. Heidi. I've gone to a chiropractor my whole life. This was new for Pete. Around the 2nd year of diagnosis, he

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-71734149433126128722010-07-04T07:18:00.000-04:002010-07-18T21:21:29.411-04:00

Lao Tzu said, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one single step." People with chronic illnesses think about every single step. Generally speaking, handicap accessible doesn't mean handicap convenient. I often think that if my husband was unable to walk, he'd have a better time getting into places than his current state of partial-disability. Our favorite conundrum is when his choice

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-57627517340734139462010-07-03T08:33:00.001-04:002010-07-18T21:22:44.541-04:00

In yoga I learned that I can start over with every new breath. So, here I go - breathing in and breathing out. Did you try it too? I practice breathing... and starting over multiple times each day. It works most of the time on an emotional or intellectual level but in a reality, when I open my eyes or turn back to my life, things look the same. My name is Beth and my husband has a chronic

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-38691228593831204032010-01-02T10:35:00.000-05:002010-01-02T10:50:05.796-05:00

Why do we avoid ourselves? Why do we fight silence? Why do we run away from solitude? My granddaughter of 3 months sometimes fights a nap. We can tell by the sound of her crying. And we say lovingly, "don't fight it, honey." We know that we'll all be here when she wakes. The world will mostly be the same and she will be better for it. I am just like that. I fight the grand need that I

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-46716192700351588552009-12-31T12:05:00.000-05:002009-12-31T12:06:25.668-05:00

It’s New Year’s Eve and there’s going to be a blue moon tonight. Apparently there was an extra moon cycle in 2009 and that extra moon is called a “blue moon” and it happens… once in a blue moon. The last time it shined on New Year’s Eve was in 1990 and the next time will be in 2028. I’ll be honest; I didn’t know where the expression “once in a blue moon” came from. So, I looked it up. The

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-73585123242107304452009-08-07T06:33:00.000-04:002009-08-07T06:41:09.515-04:00

One of my critiques of Buddhism has always been the undying simplicity of its suggestions. My western facilities don't want to believe that simple mindfulness really is the answer to my fretting. My busy schedule doesn't trust that simply taking a day off (really off) offers me rest. My soul has always believed that life is simply more complicated than that. I've begun to read Original Self

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-87574987525918228262009-07-27T05:37:00.000-04:002009-07-27T05:45:50.049-04:00

"Nonetheless, I'm prepared to ask if one of the most damaging weaknesses of modern Christianity and of some of Judaism doesn't arise as a direct result of our passionate need to believe both in our individual freedom and our innate worth -- our deep rooted conviction that we deserve and have amply earned the particular close attention of God. That resulting weakness is most visible in the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-66454064169379188282009-06-20T07:48:00.000-04:002009-06-20T07:58:07.490-04:00

I'm back to posting about the book called "When Things Fall Apart" by Pema Chodron, attempting to reflect as a "Buddhist Christian." The last chapter was on the universality of impermanence, suffering and egolessness. She argues that they are a gift if we accept them as part of life. When I encounter the idea that we nothing is permanent (impermanent), that life hurts (suffering) or that I am

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-49746332198957224112009-06-15T07:26:00.000-04:002009-06-15T08:05:40.438-04:00

I took a few days off from my computer to attend the Big Tent Event (an event of the PCUSA) where I found my summer reading project: The Gospel According to Bruce Springsteen. As a way of decompressing from my workshop I finished one of those facebook exercises. This one instructed me to answer the questions using song titles from one artist. I chose... the Boss. So I will begin my summer

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-84281961974783570462009-06-10T08:47:00.000-04:002009-06-10T08:57:38.416-04:00

The Jewish tradition has a word that is rich in meaning - Hesed. My translation goes something like this: Love, devotion, truth and faithfulness laid out on a table of lovingkindness. Jews and Christians believe that God models this Hesed for us. We are to mimic God. Buddhists have a word, "Maitri" that translates to "lovingkindness" or "unconditional friendship." One of the critiques of

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-85297901094515671672009-06-08T07:44:00.000-04:002009-06-08T07:58:56.877-04:00

I began reading When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron. Publishers weekly calls it the "Tibetan Buddhist equivalent to Harold Kushner's When Bad Things Happen to Good People." I began reading it to expand my thinking on suffering. As a Christian theologican, I have lots of Christian doctrine and biblical understanding to offer suffering. But in my own life, I'm finding the need for different

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-82511853810590659262009-05-14T07:22:00.000-04:002009-05-14T07:29:56.588-04:00

If you're reading this first... go to yesterday's post for the questions to the "Religious Literacy" quiz. 1. The gospels are: Matthew, Mark, Luke, John (1 point each)2. A Hindu sacred text can include the Vedas, Brahmanas, Aranyakas, Upanishads, Puranas, Mahabharata, Bhagavad Gita, Ramayana, Yoga Sutras, Laws of Manu, Kama Sutra (1 point)3. Islam's Holy Scripture is called: the Quran (1 point

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-82262118643212462562009-05-13T07:11:00.001-04:002009-05-13T07:18:46.587-04:00

This quiz is from Stephen Prothero's book, "Religious Literacy." Good Luck! 1 Name the four Gospels. List as many as you can.2. Name a sacred text of Hinduism.3. What is the name of the holy book of Islam?4. Where according to the Bible was Jesus born?5. President George W. Bush spoke in his first inaugural address of the Jericho road. What Bible story was he invoking?6. What are the first five

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-91053050910514056712009-05-08T08:27:00.000-04:002009-05-08T08:49:38.760-04:00

I should've seen it coming but the ending wasn't near as helpful as the rest of the book. In a nutshell, we're still arguing about where authority lies for the Christian tradition - not a surprise. But the simple, and self-evident as I see it, bottom line is that the argument itself is where the authority lies. Some would prefer that we call it a conversation (and Tickle does). But in my

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-43949615381910609212009-05-02T08:40:00.000-04:002009-05-02T09:11:38.772-04:00

If you had to choose from these four categories, which would most describe you? Liturgical Christian (Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican, Lutheran, etc...) Renewal Christian (Pentecostal, etc...) Social Justice Christian (Mainline, etc...) Conservative Christian (Evangelical, non-denominational, etc...) I would assume that if you're reading this blog, you immediately find fault in having to pick just

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-30159790489175051042009-04-29T06:51:00.000-04:002009-04-29T07:12:13.931-04:00

We're still answering the question, "how did we get here?" She would've been remiss not to mention Roe v. Wade or Terri Schiavo as an excellent example of the litmus test for morality in the 21st century. Although she gives little commentary on it. She moves quickly from morality into technological advances. Let's just make a list. Ecumenism and Interfaith dialogue Vatican I and II Medical

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-89715150046965180552009-04-27T08:13:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:45:38.448-04:00

Let's go back again to her first illustration of the cable taking a huge blow to its outer and inner sheath (our story of community and common imagination). Inside the cable are three strands: the spiritual, corporeal and moral strands. I'm creeping through this chapter still and today I'll only write about the spirituality strand when taken out of the braid of those three strands. She names

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-46645596824303942102009-04-25T08:13:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:44:36.639-04:00

This is another chapter that's going to take a few days to unpack. Go back to her original illustration of the cable. The outer sheath or our "common story" and the inner sheath or our "common imagination" is what has been breached, exposing the three stranded cable of spirituality, religiosity and morality. She goes back to a foundational question that is wrapped up in any "rummage sale" -

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-86437168311746190732009-04-22T07:13:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:44:16.184-04:00

Enjoy this high school project about the Scopes Trial (complete with outtakes.) I include it because of the obvious worldview these teenagers assume. Tickle has subtitled the next chapter (chapter 4), "Darwin, Freud and the Power of Myth." When I consider the changing face of the church, I often wonder how much of my thoughts are simply a product of my worldview. How much of my worldview is

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-37849558273765717612009-04-20T08:15:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:38:28.198-04:00

This chapter is packed. If you're wondering about the author's credentials, click here for her website. I found interesting that her perspective of religion is more from watching trends as the first religion editor of Publisher's Weekly. She essentially has been in the right place at the right time to see things from farther outside than me. Tickle begins by connecting the Renaissance with

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-90010059766926750102009-04-18T09:00:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:38:03.159-04:00

Here we go with the second day of reading Phyllis Tickle's "The Great Emergence." I've read chapter two and the teaser for section two. And the question that I'm left with is "What happened over the last 100 (or maybe 200) years that would create the need or desire for change in the Christian church?" But before we get to that, here's what she says (essentially)... Using the illustration of a

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-14512559078362281142009-04-17T07:38:00.000-04:002009-04-27T08:46:19.873-04:00

I began reading this new book this morning after a fitful night of sleep. Perhaps it's an occupational hazard, but I often wake with people and problems from church on my mind. At first, I try to pray. This morning that lasted for an hour and then I got up for tea. I've long been a voice of change in the church. Even in my days working for para-church organization, I was a voice (often

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-70921455575803291982009-04-11T17:41:00.000-04:002009-04-11T17:50:54.907-04:00

Newsweek recently ran a cover story about the decline of a Christian nation. I was horrified to think that we were a theocracy in the first place. (Although i didn't look up my 5th grade social studies textbook to confirm what we all should know... we are a republic not a theocracy.) I found Judith Warner's response to the Newsweek article particularly insightful. The quote that I'm

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-5292303516143108002009-03-16T15:55:00.001-04:002009-03-16T15:58:26.454-04:00

Have you seen the foreign film, The Red Balloon? It's about a little boy and an "obedient" red balloon. The little boy spends this fantastic day being friends with the balloon. It goes everywhere with him, he runs and laughs and plays with it. And at the end of the day, his mother tried to kick it out of the house... but the balloon waited outside the boy's window. Perhaps as a Lenten

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-58944796539880918362009-03-08T07:22:00.000-04:002009-03-08T07:29:22.335-04:00

Pete and I saw Buddy Guy with BB King on Fat Tuesday. Feels Like Rain was my first exposure to Buddy Guy and it courted me once again in a relationship with the blues. I love the imagery of rain being used here to speak of something wonderful like love. Rain so often is used for... well, for the blues. But I love the tension. Enjoy it here with John Mayer and Buddy Guy.Read Feels Like Rain

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-81268665524889488632009-03-06T07:54:00.001-05:002009-03-08T07:30:26.383-04:00

I'm writing my sermon... again. The reflection is about the psalm that Jesus quotes while on the cross. It begins with the words, "my God, why have you forsaken me?" I've written a sermon about this already. But it was explicitly about the cross. This time, we're not quite at the cross yet. We're just beginning the journey of Lent. And so I'm wondering about how we question God's Way. And

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-59793474061455367562009-01-19T08:35:00.000-05:002009-01-19T08:45:04.325-05:00

Yesterday I preached about the Constitution. It was titled "We the People." I gave words to "standing by someone else." It's a great gift to have a pulpit. But today, I have the haunting feeling again. I wish for the freedom from the ties of the word preached. It draws me in, even holds me within its grasp - in knots. It's not my word though, right? If it be prophecy, it belongs to the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-84121097655100345932008-11-27T11:25:00.001-05:002008-11-27T11:25:37.876-05:00

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 rolledback, 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 littleride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-57761865114697301582008-11-04T23:45:00.000-05:002008-11-04T23:46:11.108-05:00

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; 5The shoemaker singing as he

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-33705672062587843332008-11-01T15:22:00.000-04:002008-11-01T15:26:36.272-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-82493911217009893352008-10-28T07:16:00.000-04:002008-10-28T07:23:25.895-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-9286496687897020012008-10-15T21:44:00.000-04:002008-10-15T21:45:20.844-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-76005037673165160612008-09-15T12:33:00.000-04:002008-09-15T12:36:00.863-04:00

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-16322789480913813562008-09-15T12:23:00.001-04:002008-09-15T12:33:01.951-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-44222371533390956962008-09-12T07:35:00.001-04:002008-09-12T07:43:04.173-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-8145563211534415802008-09-10T13:02:00.001-04:002008-09-10T13:07:08.077-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-30981396578448202582008-09-10T11:45:00.000-04:002008-09-10T11:51:01.434-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-38177719186621474402008-08-11T16:56:00.001-04:002008-08-11T17:02:16.561-04:00

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.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-38741734153505431402008-08-07T05:47:00.000-04:002008-08-07T05:50:53.908-04:00

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

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1146421266016622212006-04-30T14:16:00.000-04:002006-04-30T14:21:06.030-04:00

The season of Easter is a wonderful opportunity to re-discover or reflect upon our faith. Often through prayer, I am able to express my discoveries or reflections. I found this quote about prayer itself. "Prayerful words are the channel into the silent communion of an individual soul with the Creator in whose image we are created. Prayer is an act of radical welcome and radical intimacy

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1141477255358485862006-03-04T07:50:00.000-05:002006-03-04T08:00:55.400-05:00

At the end of the yoga class that I attend, as we are feeling slightly taller and lighter from the exercise and renewed breath, we chant OM together. At first, not having come from this tradition, I was confused about what this small word meant. My interest led me to find that OM, like Amen for us of the Christian tradition offers acceptance and trust in the Divine. Some compare the little

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1136390029628476942006-01-04T10:50:00.000-05:002006-01-04T10:53:49.663-05:00

past weather changed the inside as ice covered the lot blue shirt? or sweater? a labored decision where shoes remain unquestioned the ice inside was the concern.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1136303136781042772006-01-03T10:43:00.000-05:002006-01-03T10:45:36.816-05:00

Sitting in smoke feels like groping fear and isolation, wonder and sadness plow through the incensed air lavender and rosemary pronounce tension of sleepiness and hunger. Smoke defines rather than hides.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1129215766667457602005-10-13T10:50:00.000-04:002005-10-19T12:47:56.020-04:00

During the rain-fest earlier this month, I walked into the office, coffee in hand, closed toed shoes, wearing a big black raincoat - for the third day in a row. I was about to pick up the pace from walking to jogging when I realized that all around my feet were the most beautiful, albeit wet leaves. The leaves had begun to change! When did that happen? Had I missed the memo? How had I missed the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1127220561945003422005-09-20T11:48:00.000-04:002005-09-20T08:49:21.953-04:00

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1122646422108201832005-07-29T13:06:00.000-04:002005-07-29T10:13:42.113-04:00

The result of just one day - a meeting finally set that freed me to dream, and a final day at the library has given me all the apron string to tie as I desire. String and freedom, Space and connection - it's the mix of the two that seems to be the perfect recipe. Even a recipe of this type works for family. Freedom, without strings? Sometimes we wish the strings were shorter, pulling and

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1122301168234141422005-07-25T13:13:00.000-04:002005-07-25T10:19:28.240-04:00

Emerging from the congregation yesterday, the Bible limped to the atar. The woman carrying it as part of the procession had a limp. Not a generative one, but rather the result of a pulled muscle or a strained back. She limped up the three steps and reached with both arms as far as she could to tenuously place the word of God on the corner of the altar. As I approached the intention to preach

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1121096491344852812005-07-11T11:39:00.000-04:002005-07-11T11:41:31.350-04:00

May God give us the courage to face life as it is and grace to embrace it. Courage to face, grace to embrace. Through courage and grace we come to know God, one nearer nearer than our next breath. Amen.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1120653232350269692005-07-06T11:31:00.000-04:002005-07-06T08:33:52.356-04:00

Pilgrim God, there is an exodus going on in our lives - desert stretches, a vast land of questions. Inside our hearts your promises tumble and turn. No pillar of cloud by day or fire by night can we see. Our hearts hurt at leaving loved ones and so much of the security we have known. We try to give in to the stretching and the pain. It is hard, God, and we want to be settled, secure, safe,

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1120527252496694182005-07-05T00:24:00.000-04:002005-07-04T21:34:12.510-04:00

We ran into friends downtown while looking for a bite to eat. On the evening of July 4th, open restaurants are hard to find. I suppose running into friends with such few choices isn't too odd. Yet, I find the longer I live in NJ, the smaller my world gets. We enjoyed middle eastern food and then ice cream for dessert. The sky was beautifully blue, almost colonial blue - appropriate for the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1120075570713182882005-06-29T19:03:00.000-04:002005-06-29T16:24:06.246-04:00

The poets have scattered you. A storm ripped through their stammering. I want to gather you up again in a vessel that makes you glad. I wander in your winds and bring back everything I find. The blind man needed you as a cup. The servant concealed you. The homeless one held you out as I passed. You see, I like to look for things. What is it about the art of gathering that fascinates me so? My

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1119713923713819122005-06-25T14:37:00.000-04:002005-06-25T11:38:43.720-04:00

I’ll admit that I always see deeper meanings in things. For example, my son Joe found two cats in the woods. They were too young to be left without a mother and so they became ours. Joe fed them with cat formula using an eyedropper. They were going to be named Jake and Elwood, after the Blues Brothers. But, somehow Elwood stuck but Jake became “Red,” partly because he was more red in color

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1119622360681119192005-06-24T13:11:00.000-04:002005-06-24T10:12:40.686-04:00

I was taking some ridiculously overdue time away. By time away, I mean solitude. I have learned over the years that a life without solitude can never be truly hospitable. In other words, if there is no place for me in me, there is no place for you either. So, space – I created space for myself. My friend offered her beach house to me (which turned out to be a house, literally on the

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1119015886219128472005-06-17T12:41:00.000-04:002005-06-17T09:44:46.220-04:00

"Christ alone - of all the philosophers, Magi, etc. - has affirmed, as a pricpal certainty, eternal life, the infinity of time, the nothingness of death, the necessity and the raison d'etre of serenity and devotion. He lived serenely, as a greater artist than all other artists, despising marble and clay as well as color, working in living flesh. That is to say, this matchless artist, hardly to

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1119015674015839282005-06-17T09:39:00.000-04:002005-06-17T09:41:14.016-04:00

Kim Stafford writes, "There is a clear lawn, then the messy digging that begins a garden, then the order of the garden when it flourishes." I have never thought that my summa cum lifestyle was creating a beautifully lush lawn that would may provide space for a church to plant a garden. All I saw/ felt this morning was the shovel making a hole. I wonder now what kind of fruit might grow in that

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1117811234222320902005-06-03T14:01:00.000-04:002005-06-03T11:07:14.236-04:00

New faces can undo old ideas My inner voice plays tricks on me as it changes its mind. Twisting sights and sounds as they swish into space. the space of my inner voice. At once I perceive options. No longer objects but subjects. Before me reside faces.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1117811486984818572005-06-03T11:07:00.000-04:002005-06-03T11:11:27.013-04:00

Doubled over in pain, with dozens of advil swimming in my stomach, I lay in bed. Am I sick? Or just avoiding the mext phase? Piles of paper, mail, books invade the air around me. But - I leave it - wanting to remember the last phase. People, work, assignments and learning, left to read. My life clutters my house. Clutter? Is my life but clutter? In my you th, we

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1117540285890001242005-05-31T07:30:00.000-04:002005-05-31T07:51:25.903-04:00

"... to say the very think you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words... When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1116266037626582822005-05-16T13:52:00.000-04:002005-05-16T13:53:57.630-04:00

When leaves take the blossoms, Trees are quite odd looking.

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1115384857742930472005-05-06T12:06:00.000-04:002005-05-06T09:07:37.820-04:00

My grandmother almost always lived in the same house with us. And, on Saturday mornings, she would make “share eggs.” A share egg is a soft-boiled egg, which she timed with her yellow egg timer, over a piece of wheat toast. She cut the egg in half so the warm, custard-like middle could soak into the bread. And, she put a bit of salt and pepper on top. She made two and put them on the same

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1111152190215299202005-03-18T08:22:00.000-05:002005-03-18T08:23:10.216-05:00

"You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for that name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted! If that happens to us, we

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1111021227670636502005-03-16T19:59:00.000-05:002005-03-16T20:00:27.673-05:00

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - That myth is more potent than history,I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts -That hope always triumphs over experience - That laughter is the only cure for grief.And I believe that love is stronger than death."

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11173924.post-1109729820532066762005-03-01T21:01:00.000-05:002005-03-01T21:17:00.536-05:00

The 12th verse of the very famous "love" passage in the bible has always typically translates our way of understanding or knowing in the present as "seeing dimly." In reality, the word is "riddle" or the greek "anigmati" and the latin "enigma." People of varying faiths have sought truth, revelation of God, understanding of the world and the Christian scripture has given excuse for our lack of

Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01390768603329504858noreply@blogger.com0