Our Weekly Devotionals are created by our staff and members to inspire reflections and conversation.
Today - Joy
So really? JOY?
I admit it. In these times in our nation I am extremely crabby, unhappy, angry and sad about it, it’s effects on too many people, and I feel helpless about it all. A friend recently told me she is dealing with real depression for those and other reasons. And for myself, selfish as it may seem, I am also crabby adjusting to some of the realities of aging. So all together, it may seem weird for me to think of this as a time for joy.
What to do?
A long time ago, we attended Hillside Christian Church. The church was between pastors, so Dr. Mike Graves gave the Easter sermon. As the preaching professor at St. Paul School of Theology, I was expecting something extraordinary, which is was, because I’m writing about it over a decade later.
My Family of Immigrants
I have gotten pretty deeply into researching my family history over the years. While it’s amazingly easy today to uncover facts about my ancestors, there is very little left of the story that threads those facts together into a tangible life story. There’s especially little left of the story of their immigration into the US.
The Next Journey
Many years ago, my youngest son burst into tears when I told him that I couldn’t answer his questions about heaven. The uncertainty in my voice was the trigger. The idea that he and his brother and his parents might not be just like we were that night, together forever in the afterlife, was too much for him to bear.
Love Letters
Valentine’s Day is still a month away, but my heart is so full of love and admiration for my Peace community. Earlier this week and with only a 24 hour notice, we learned that the refugee family we’ve been preparing to welcome would board a plane in a much warmer climate and land in our January snow globe of a city. And right away, the love letters began to pour in.
What Motivates Us
What is it that motivates us? What keeps us going? Am I still trying to impress my mom, years after her dementia has eliminated any hope of resolution? Have I assigned others to that role? Is it Jesus I am trying to impress? I have always looked forward to that perfect firm handshake. A vision of Jesus recognizing me, has been expecting me, says it was a job well done, I was in the top one percent of all time, here is your special certificate, you are a good and faithful servant, welcome home, we have a satisfying job for you, filled with many people you will remember and others that you have been wanting to meet, you’ll always be busy and necessary, yet well-rested.
Snow Days
I have such fond memories of “snow days” – days when all non-essential activities were cancelled – both from my own childhood and from rearing my own children. If you are among the lucky ones who have gotten to stay home on a snow day, you, too, may have fond memories of sleeping late, building a snowman, making snow angels, throwing snow balls from a snow fort, coming inside to drink hot chocolate and warming up by a fire or furnace, doing puzzles, reading a book, making soup, or simply enjoying the gift of a day you don’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular. After playing outside, my kids and I would typically gather round the big dining room table to build entire Lego cities and then snuggle up to watch our favorite movies. Good times.
Listening
I often like to imagine a society whose wealth is measured not in pieces of silver or the stock market but in stories. Each day, the way someone would return the favor of a meal or for an oil change would be by telling a quick and engaging tale, whether fiction or fact. In this place everyone’s voices would be heard, and everyone would be regarded for the threads they spin in their accountings and lives.
Trauma vs. Resilience
I saw a post on social media that said,
“To be very, VERY reductionistic: Hard times + support = resilience; Hard times + no support = Trauma”.
This resonates precisely because it is reductionist, a simple way to understand a complicated fact of life. I know plenty of people who have had support while experiencing hard times and either still struggle to establish resilience or never achieve it and are left with just trauma. Nothing in life is guaranteed, but that should not stop us from offering support to those in need, since it can help people move forward.
Waiting and Working
Advent is always busy. Of course it is. We have our usual jobs and responsibilities but we also must find time to shop, decorate, and bake. Maybe even travel. We have added bills and year-end planning. There are parties and activities. And we do all of this in cold weather and limited sunlight. When our bodies really just want to rest.
I worked on Thanksgiving, traveling back and forth between three hospitals. Three surgeries, several other procedures, many consults, texts and phone calls. Luckily, I was able to join my extended family for our traditional crisp morning walk, leaving before the cinnamon rolls and coffee. It was a very busy day and by the time I got back home the leftovers were being put away, the dishes washed. My plate of food was still warm and delicious.
The Harvest
Last fall, I spent several days walking through Rioja, Spain, where vineyards and olive trees lined my path. The grapes were deep purple and bountiful. The trees were heavy with ripening olives. The landscape was stunning. As I walked along in a quiet breeze, under a warm sun and a clear sky, I felt a sense of abundance--that we have everything we need.
Breaking News
If I had a nickel for every “Breaking News” alert I’ve gotten in the last week from my NYT online subscription, I’d take us all out for a pricey coffee and a donut. I mean, we get it; it’s all breaking news. What we know is that the news is only going to get more absurd and more difficult in the coming months and years. There will be plenty of heart-breaking news alerts, and we should think about how we’re going to prepare for what comes next. In 1950 Bette Davis parlance, “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
Remember Why You Came Here
There is so much grief and terror and outright evil happening, with the promise of more to come, that it’s easy to feel inadequate right now. I’ve heard, over and over this week, friends and colleagues saying, “I don’t know what to do” as they express their shock and struggle to even function. Interestingly, the ones saying this in my world have all been white women like me.
I decided to take my cues from my black women friends. Of all demographics, to me this group seems the most oppressed in our white supremacist patriarchy, and they can and will bear the brunt of racist and sexist cruelty in ways I never will.
My Unsung Hero
The NPR podcast Hidden Brain has a short segment called “My Unsung Hero”. It features people telling the stories of kindnesses that they received and their gratitude for the compassionate acts that made all the difference for them. I’m often touched by these stories, which highlight how a small moment of generosity or thoughtfulness that costs a person so little can be so meaningful to those who receive it. It’s inspired me to think back on who in my life I could consider an unsung hero, and I’ve reflected on the teachers and mentors who shaped me, and the way their support helped me see what was possible for myself.
This Time and Place
I’ve learned my limits. A few articles from The Atlantic or NYT or Washington Post. No television news. Social media screen time is set at ten minutes per day. I quickly scan email subject lines. More than that isn’t helpful or healthy for me. I know what is at stake and don’t need continuous unrelenting reminders of how bad things already are and could be in the future.
In the end we all want the same things.
Every Little Bit Matters
The theme “All Creatures Great and Small” is an interesting one for a Stewardship Campaign. Most often, when we are raising funds for a cause, we aim for a big bang. We color the rising red line in the poster-sized thermometer to show just how much money we’ve raised. In schools, we hype kids up by promising pizza parties and extra recess for classes who raised the most money. We urge people to give more, help more, and dig into those pockets just one more time! Who doesn’t want to be able to save the world, simultaneously while leaping tall buildings in a single bound?! We live by the phrase, “Go Big or Go Home.”
Choosing
I’m writing this devotional from the Providence, Rhode Island Airport. I am a nervous traveler and need to arrive at the airport early, so we’re killing some time. We’re in Rhode Island because when we started dating, we decided to see all 50 state capitol buildings. And it doesn’t count unless we can go into the building. We went to Providence and Hartford, Connecticut, which were capitols 38 and 39, respectively. I’m so thankful we’ve made this choice. I have no idea how other people decide where to travel, but for us, we frequently build our vacations around visiting a capitol. It’s worked out splendidly. America is big and diverse. We need a way to help us choose a destination.
The Art of Mending
I’ve been fascinated for years by photos of ceramic cups and bowls that have been mended with thin strands of gold, an ancient art form from Japan, called Kintsugi.
The philosophy that has grown within this art form brings a deep meaning to each piece. Not just decorative work, and not just repair work. It is representative of the idea that brokenness is inevitable – of things, of us. But that with reflection, and deliberate action, we can return to wholeness. Wholeness filled with refinement, beauty and with our broken places still visible – bringing even greater beauty to who we are. Damage is part of a history, not an ending; renewed wholeness celebrates resilience, and transformation.
Nourishment for the Soul …
Most mornings, I walk to the trails near my house shortly after the sun comes up. It’s very quiet at that time of day. A few runners and an occasional biker share the path with us early walkers. Usually, I’ll spot a deer or two. Almost always I’ll see a heron. They stand so still and quietly, just waiting. Even though they are always around, I’ve never seen one catch a fish. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone catch a fish in the ponds along the trail.
How Can I Keep From Singing
I’ve joked with Alex, Peace music leader, my friend and music partner, that he has to promise to tell me when I stop sounding “right.” I’m only half joking, since I hope sincerely that he’ll have the hard conversation with me when my voice begins to wobble, or the notes at the top end of my range (probably about an octave lower than when I started gutting out pop music a couple of decades ago) turn weak and forced. That was far off in the future when we first started playing music together. I can remember growing up in church, singing in all kinds of choirs, and hearing what happens to many, not all, voices as they age. I gotta say, it scares me. After all, singing is a big part of who I am.