What Do You Notice?

Gratitude and ingratitude are tied to what we notice. 

I read this recently and it resonated with me because I know it's true.  Gratitude and ingratitude are tied to what we notice.  I can point to times in my life - some very recent, where I saw the negative.  I focused on the hard things, the things I didn't like, the negative traits in people, the discouraging stuff happening in my life.  It was no coincidence that these times were times of ingratitude.  Times of bitterness and disappointment.  Times of negativity.  Dark times.  Yes, these were times when I was struggling; times when hard stuff was happening in my life.  But I have to wonder, did the things I notice make these periods in my life harder?  Darker?  More negative?  What would it have been like if during these times of struggle, I would have focused on seeing the good?

I can also point to times in my life when I do see the good.  Times when I focus on the positive things, the beauty around me, the good in people, the amazing things happening in my life.  These are the times when I see God's presence in my life; when I see His hand in the ordinary.  These are the times when I am filled with gratitude.  True, these are times when life is a little easier; times when things are coming together in my life; times when I'm feeling good about myself.  It's not like I don't have worries or struggles or problems during these times but, I'm not feeling overwhelmed.  I have to wonder, are things better because I am choosing to see the good more than the bad?  Are things better because I am choosing to feel gratitude for all that I have?  To feel positive rather than focus on the negative? 

When my daughters were very young, life was tough.  It would have been easy to be negative; to be bitter and disappointed.  It would have been easy to give up.  But I didn't want to be that kind of Mom.  So I kept a "Blessing Journal".  Every night, I wrote down 3 blessings for the day - no matter what kind of day I had. Some nights,  my blessings were pretty awesome.  And some nights I had to work pretty hard to come up with 3.  But I always found 3 things each night that I was grateful for - a bed to go to sleep in, a car that hadn't broken down that day, the bag of groceries left on the porch.  My Blessing Journal helped keep me focused on the good in my life.  It helped me see God's presence.  It helped me remember all that I had to be thankful for - in the midst of the hard.  

And now, 20 some years later, my Blessing Journals are fun to read.  I have a pile of journals to browse through and remember all the things in my life that I have to be thankful for because, those things still exist in my life.  It helps to remember just how faithful God was back in those days and to see that He continues to be faithful today.  

I've lost that practice of journaling my blessings.  It was a good one.
     Gratitude and ingratitude are tied to what we notice.  What do you notice?

Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.

• “Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!“
    Morning by morning new mercies I see;
  All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
      “Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!

Source: http://www.hymnal.net/hymn.php/h/19#ixzz2YE1CqOy2

Oatmeal Cookies

I went to the dentist today.  Big deal, you say!  Well, actually it was.  I hadn't been to the dentist in 9 years.  It happens when you don't have dental insurance or the money to pay for it yourself.  So, I've tried to take care of my teeth the best I can and just hope they would be O.K.  I've had teeth that have hurt quite a bit through the years but after a while, they've stopped hurting.  In fact, until a couple of months ago I had a tooth that was hurting quite a bit.  Then one day, half of it fell out and it stopped hurting.  As weird or gross as that may sound, it was a blessing because the pain stopped.

So, when I learned that one of the benefits of my new job was dental insurance I was pretty excited.  I could get my teeth cleaned for the first time in 9 years.  Today was the day.  I was nervous.  No offense to dentists but a bad experience with a country dentist as a kid has left me terrified.  And, I was embarrassed because it had been so long and I was a bit nervous about what  condition my teeth might be in.

I went to a dentist one of my co-workers recommended.   The staff was great and the hygienist told me my teeth looked pretty good for 9 years.  She cleaned the bottom teeth and told me I would need to come back for the top but first the dentist would do his check-up.  

Dr. Winskill came to my chair and introduced himself.  This was the first time we met.  He asked me if any of my teeth were bothering me.  "Not anymore," I said.  And I told him about my tooth.  "Mmmm,"  he said.  "I don't really like hearing that."  He started checking my teeth and said to the hygienist.  "Yes, we will need a pin and crown in #14."  As soon as he got out of my mouth, I said,  "I won't be able to do get that fixed but that's O.K. because it really doesn't bother me."  "Mmmm,"  Dr. Winskill said.

He finished checking out my teeth, straightened out my chair and said, "Are you a good cookie baker?"  What a strange question!  I looked at him oddly and said, "Yes.  I think I am."  "Do you make good oatmeal cookies?"  (I'm thinking this is really weird).  "I do!" I said.  "Well, I love oatmeal cookies," he said.  "I will trade you oatmeal cookies for a crown."

I started laughing because of course he was joking!  "I'm serious," he said.  "Oatmeal cookies for a crown."   His hygienist looked at me and said, "He's serious."  I started crying (I know!) and said, "Why would you do that?"

Dr. Winskill looked at me and said, "Because I want to fix your tooth.  You haven't been to a dentist in 9 years and your teeth look pretty good except that one.  I want to fix it.  You bring me cookies and I will fix your tooth."  And he just walked away.

This is a dentist who has never met me before.  He doesn't know me.  He doesn't know anything about me.  Why would he do this?  Why would he choose to bless me in this incredibly amazing way?

I choose to believe that God is still telling me that He is journeying with me.  That He is taking each step with me.  That He is providing for me.  That He is and will continue to take care of me.  It doesn't matter what it is  - a job that gives me meaning; my stuff from Casper to Tacoma; a tooth; or that place of my own that I'm praying for in August.  God has it covered.

And Dr. Winskill.  I just hope he loves my oatmeal cookies as much as I will love baking them.  I think oatmeal cookies might become my favorite, too!

Matthew 6:25-34   "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. 

New Life

Recently, I blogged on my new appreciation for the importance of a kitchen table and the relationship building that takes place around a kitchen table.  The post was written because I made an exciting purchase at a flea market.

Since then I’ve added four chairs to my purchase.  Chairs that are distinctly different in character that will all be painted the same, the cushions covered with the same fabric so that when they are placed around the table they will all belong.  People will then have a place to gather around my table for food and fellowship.  But that’s not the subject of this post.

This weekend I’ve spent most of my time and energy sanding the old paint off the table and chairs and I’ve begun repainting the table and two of the chairs an inviting “Mint Shake” color.   My kitchen ensemble is taking shape!

It’s hard work.  Sanding off old paint and in some cases varnish that’s been there for years doesn’t come off easily.  I really had to work at it.  Sometimes I needed to use  abrasive sandpaper because the varnish was thick or the dents ran deeper than I thought.  Other times, fine sandpaper and a lot of elbow grease took off the old, chipped paint.  But regardless, I worked up a sweat.  I got tired.  And honestly, it wasn’t much fun.

It was more fun putting the fresh paint on. Seeing the old furniture come to life – looking just the way I imagined it would look made all the hard sanding and prep work worth it.  The finished product looks completely different than the old, tired furniture did.  It’s fresh and new.  My table and chairs have come  back to life.

Working away in the hot garage this weekend, I saw the irony of my work.  It dawned on me that my work this weekend is what God’s been doing in my life these last six months.  He’s been sanding away at the worn out, chipped and ugly places in my life that need new life.  At times it has felt a bit abrasive.  It hasn’t been fun.  But, I see now that God had to get rid of a bunch of old stuff that I was hanging on to.  He needed to smooth away some pretty deep dents.  I had some damage that needed sanding away.  Like my table and chairs, I look different than when God first started too.  I've come back to life.    

The Call of the Spirit

In my new call as Congregational Organizer for an ecumenical social justice non-profit, I’ve been doing a lot of reading as I prepare to develop a congregation based affordable housing program.  I’ve been reading an assortment of books that are putting voice to what I’ve believed and envisioned Christ’s church was called to be.  It’s exciting and empowering and dangerous and overwhelming to find that the Church, in all its’ humanness is falling so far short of what it could be with the power of the Holy Spirit.

One of the most voice-giving, affirming books I’ve read is  Doing Justice: Congregations and Community Organizing, by Dennis A. Jacobsen. (Fortress Press: Minneapolis.  2001)   Jacobsen says that “the church has a responsibility to point the world as it is, to the world as it should be.” (pg 11)  He goes on to say that:

            “Biblically speaking, the preeminent activity of the church is in the public arena,

not in the sanctuary.  The Holy Spirit calls and gathers the church and sends the church into the world with the liberating gospel of Jesus Christ.   The Holy Spirit
takes the church into the public arena so that the church can be the church…..
To resist this summons to public life is to resist the Holy Spirit.

The church enters the public arena because it is mandated to do so by the Great Commission of Jesus…  The primary concern of the church in the public arena is not to find more members to fill the pews of the sanctuary.  The church is sent into the public arena with the ethical imperatives of Jesus.  The church is to proclaim the kingdom of God over against the kingdoms of the world.”

I resonate with Jacobsen because this is what I believe about the church and this is how I pastored a church.  The congregation believed the church existed for them; that it was about them.  The church was more of a social club; a time to get together.  A place to be comfortable.  The church died.  It closed. 

This is the kind of church I want to be a part of.  A church that gathers on Sundays to worship our Lord and Savior.  A church that gathers for fellowship and communion.  A church that gathers to refresh, to pray, to fill.  And then a church that disperses and spends its' time being the church in the community.  A church that gets its' hands dirty in the messiness of life.  A church that speaks up to right the injustices of society.  A church that is merciful.  A church that is hospitable to strangers.  A church that truly follows Jesus and heals and loves with compassion and truth.

 

Being a church that does justice; that’s out in the world uninterested in statistical growth is dangerous.  It’s counterintuitive.  It’s out-of-this-world.  It’s upside down.  But then, so is the kingdom of heaven.

What do you think?                                

A Kitchen Table

On Saturday I went to a super-sized flea market called "The Funky Junk Sisters."  Now I had never heard of them until I moved back here but a bunch of my friend Carol's friends  have gone to Funky Junk Sister flea markets before.  They drive 2 1/2 hours to Portland to their flea markets and I've seen some of the things they've bought and it's the kind of vintage/distressed/shabby-chic kind of furniture that I love.  So, when I heard the Funky Junk Sisters were coming here, Carol and I decided to tag along.

I found a kitchen table. My kitchen table didn't make it from Casper so I needed one.  The table I found at the flea market is exactly the kind I imagined.  It's the kind that has the sides that can be down so that the table is small or up so that the table is larger.  It's old so it has character.  It's painted mint green but is very distressed - a little too distressed for a kitchen table so I'm going to sand it down and repaint it.  I'm going to look for four mismatched chairs and paint them all mint green and make cushions for them.  But that's not the point.

The point is, I have a kitchen table for when I have my own place again.  I didn't realize how important a kitchen table really was until I didn't have a place to live or a kitchen table.  A kitchen table symbolizes you have a place to eat.  A kitchen table is where  family can gather around; where we can be together as family.  A table is someplace where you talk and share stories.  Laughter and tears are shared at kitchen tables. Friendships deepen around tables while food is eaten and stories are told.

My daughters and I have prepared many a meal centered around the table - using the table as if it's an extension of the counter.  Since the girls were toddlers, sugar cookie dough has been rolled out and cut into shapes at every Christmas. and then they are frosted and covered with sprinkles - often with more sprinkles on the table than on the cookies.  Cinnamon rolls have been made on our table that we give to friends to say thanks for being our friends.  Corn flake wreath cookies with little red candies for berries placed on top have been  placed on wax paper covering the kitchen table.

But, it's not just cooking that happens at our table.  Our table has been the place for crafts... lots and lots of crafts were created around the table.  Science projects were born on the kitchen table.  And, you can't come to the Cato's without playing games at the kitchen table.  Phase 10, Scrabble, Quibbler...  we are a game playing family.

You see, a kitchen table is a big deal.  A kitchen table is a place for belonging; for yourself, for family and for friends.  You sit at the table for nourishment; whether it's food for your physical needs or food for your soul. When you leave the table, you are full.

A kitchen table is important.  I have a kitchen table now. Once I find a place to live, I have a place for family and friends to gather. Having a kitchen table is big deal.

Mom

I've been thinking a lot about my Mom.  On Sunday it will be two years since she died.  I still have her phone number in my cellphone contacts and her e-mail address in my e-mail contacts.  I can't bring myself to delete her.  I sure miss her.

I called her every week to talk; to check-in, to see how she was and to let her know what was happening in my life.  Sometimes it seemed it was hard to think of things to talk about and I would even make up an excuse of why I needed to go after a while.  I had run out of things to talk about with Mom.  I regret that now.  I wish so much I could punch her button on my cellphone and hear her voice.  I guess that's why I can't delete her number.

There's so much I want to tell her now.  So much I want to ask her; share with her.  Sometimes I'll just see something and think, "I should call Mom and tell her.  She'd love that."  I've even picked up the phone and dialed without thinking.  I'll cook one of her recipes and just want to ask her a question about it or order a meal that she loved and want to tell her how good it tasted.  I think about how much Mom would love to hear about Tracy's new apartment or Jessica's trip to Washington Dc.  She would be excited to hear about my new job.  She would love that I was living back here in Tacoma.  She would understand how much I love being close to the girls.  I want to tell her that I love her.

I help people grieve all the time.  I'm a pastor.  I know a lot about grief.  But it's different when it's your grief and it's different when it's your Mom that you are missing.  I know she's always with me.  I see her when I look in the mirror.  She's there when I make family recipes.  I hear her in things that I say and the way that I say them.  I sense her in things that I do and the way that I do them (darn you, Mom!).  

I love you, Mom.  I sure miss you.  

Friends

If you're like me, you go through life not really appreciating the right things.  It's not something intentional, I think it just happens because you get busy with life.  You get into a rut of doing the same things in the same way; keeping a schedule; doing the things you have to do and before you know it the day is over and then the week and then the month....  Well, you know!  So often we think we don't have time to do the things we really want to do because we are busy doing the things we have to do.

So often, the things I want to do involve the people in my life that I really care about.   I confess that way too often, it's friends that I don't [have] time for.  I'm busy - lots of responsibilities, I say.  I will call them tomorrow.  I will invite them next week when I have time.  But tomorrow comes and goes and so does next week and the people I love fade in the background, but the work never goes away.

My greatest joy since being back in Washington is being close to my girls.  Close enough to spend time with them; to be part of their lives; to get to them if they need me.  The pain of being separated never left my heart while I was in Wyoming and that emptiness is gone.  My family is together - even if Jessica is across the State and Tracy is busy living her life.  We are close geographically and every night I thank God for that. 

But I'm also rejoicing in reconnecting with friends and valuing relationships.  What fun to renew old friendships and catch up after four years away (one on the Washington coast and 3 in Wyoming).  Just today I sat down with a dear clergy friend and we talked ministry and church and dreams and Jesus.  Ironically, just as I arrive back, he's leaving for Minnesota but the renewal of our relationship was good.  We will stay in touch.

And, what I miss about Casper is not the places but the dear friends I left behind.  It's the friendships I value about my time in Casper and it's the friendships I miss; the people I came to love.  You know who you are.  I miss you!  I love you!

God created us to be in relationship.  God created us to love one another and to care for another and to be companions with one another.  We need each other.  

My prayer is that I won't allow myself to get so busy that I forget that.  People..... I need people.    Didn't Barbra Streisand sing a song about that?