Stewardship

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 beginning of next season? Shame on me! I stopped. I stopped in my big black raincoat and let a few drops fall from the sky onto my already wet head. I took a moment to look at a dozen different wet leaves, taking note of their differences, I considered their journeys from bud to the green leaf they must have been in the August sun. I wondered about their appetite for light and water and I marveled at the unique way that the rain was making them art. My pause in the rain reminded me to take note of life. Are we truly too busy to notice life around us? Or is the rain just another excuse to move faster through life.

Strings and Freedom

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 tugging back to the table (a table waiting for laughter and honesty and shared life and celebration). Yet there are a few time we wish the string longer, for times of flight for each, inching toward the future with enough freedom to explore, discover, and enjoy the new without the tug turning us toward the old life.

Strings and freedom - Old tugs and new terrain.

Biblical limping

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 the word of God, I could not help but understand fully that all of us limp as we deliver the Bible. We emerge from our lives, from our tensions, from our pain and happiness with words for our spirit. The scriptures are best understood through a limp, humble and honest, worn and pulled.

It is what it is

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.