Was It Worth It? A Mary Meditation (Part 2)

When she was young, after the angel had come and after she visited with her cousin Elizabeth, Mary was said to have sung her own song of praise to God:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.  Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.  His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.  He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.  He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.  He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.

It is not the song of a young women, though.  Rather, it is the song of a woman who has lived long upon this earth . . . the song of a woman who knows things . . . sees things . . . remembers things. . . knows things.  It is Wisdom’s song.  Or is it?

This song of Mary is extraordinary as the song of a woman young or old, experienced and wise in the ways of the world or untried and unknowing in her vision of the future . . . for how could a young woman speak such keen prophetic words about the powerful and the lowly . . . the rich and the hungry?  And how could an old woman bereft of her child sing of her blessedness?  Proclaim through the generations to all who would ask that it was worth it?

Through the pain and the heartache . . . in anticipation of the joys and tears yet to come . . . in fulfillment of a divine invitation . . . in retrospection about how that promise played out in real time . . . and all evidence to the contrary, does Mary proclaim through the ages, Oh yes.  Yes.  It was worth it.  From the very beginning . . . from the moment Father Abraham set out on his journey along God’s path . . . to now, when my son is no more and like Rachel before me do I mourn all mother’s sons, none more than my own . . . to future generations who will see the promises play out in their own lives, their own time . . . and all evidence to the contrary, I give my own magnifying yes, my own witness . . . all evidence to the contrary, it was always worth it. . . He was always worth it.

Advent Day13 - Children of Wisdom

There was I from before the first day, side by side with The One.  

There was I, in the foaming chaos of things that were nothings.

There was I, the thing to be given birth to by the creating hand of The One.

There was I, in the intake of a breath upon an imagined cloud.

I am Wisdom, she you know only out of your own foolishness.

And I was there.

I am your witness.

You are my children and I am calling you home – 

back to what you were born knowing but have somehow forgotten

back to resting upon the cloud of your own createdness

back to the floating, embracing, desiring love of your mother’s womb

back, back, back, to who you were made to be.

The One is your father.  I am Wisdom and I am your mother.

Proberbs 8

and

Matthew 11.18-19

________________

For 'deeds' in the Matthew passage, read instead 'children', as some ancient manuscripts have it, and see then the link to Proverbs 8.

An Allegorical Wedding

From Matthew 25.1-13, Jesus’ parable of the ten bridesmaids:

Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 

The kingdom of heaven is likened by Matthew to the most celebratory of events: a wedding banquet.  In this parable, the groom is returning home with his bride, who is not mentioned.

It is the job of the bridesmaids to await and greet them, to be ready whenever the wedding party arrives.  They are an integral part of the festal procession.

The story continues:  Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.  When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them;  but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.  As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. 

The point is perhaps obvious to us, but not so in Matthew’s time: Jesus’ return is taking much longer than expected and no one knows when he will return.  But return he will.

The problem here is not about falling asleep – both the wise and the foolish slept.  Perhaps as a precursor to Jesus’ experience in the garden with his disciples, this makes sense: Jesus was disappointed in his followers for their inability to remain awake with him through the night, but they were still his followers.

Jesus continues,   But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’  Then all those bridesmaids  got up and trimmed their lamps.  The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’  But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’  

Here, then, is a moment of decision for all the bridesmaids: the wise ones must choose whether to share; the foolish ones whether to stay or go in search of more oil.

When asked to share, the wise ones say no.  We can judge their seeming callousness harshly.  Are we not taught to share even to our hurt?  So how is it ‘wise’ to say no?

Perhaps if we focus here on the plight of the fools, we miss the point.  Maybe the point is the return of the groom with his bride.  Maybe the story is not about us, but about God: what we do, we do not for our own sake nor our own glory nor even our own benefit, but rather for the glory, the welcome, of God.

Now the wise ones could have given their lamps to the fools as an act of merciful grace, but that would be a different parable with a different point.

And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut.  Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’  But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’  Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

What or who is the door and who does the shutting?  A traditional view is that the door is very gateway to heaven itself.  Perhaps.

But a door has two sides and this door is as present to those on the outside as to those on the inside, as aware of the persistent knocking from outside as of the festivities on the inside.

The door is witness.  And even if it is a portal, it is a portal from life to life.

Those on both sides of the door live, one side bereft, the other fulfilled.

Maybe it wasn’t about the oil choice, but rather about the leaving choice.  Maybe the fault of the foolish bridesmaids was not so much in their lack of preparedness, but about their panicked decision to leave just when the groom came.

Telling this story, Jesus is sitting on the Mount of Olives with his disciples, who had come to him in private to ask him when the day of reckoning would come and what would be the signs of his coming, of the end of the age.

Maybe being ready is about what we do in the meantime, not in terms of ourselves, but in terms of others: if I have no light within me, I cannot light your path.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder that waiting is a drag, but oh my, what a party there will be – so maybe Jesus is reminding us that the drag of waiting has its own glorious end.

And that is something worth waiting for.

What Do I Want My Old Age to Look Like?

Most times, I have this movie-silly vision of me wearing an apron like Grandma always seemed to, sitting on the porch or standing at the fence or in the kitchen making something wonderfully memorably fabulous.  That, I think, is my ideal future.

Until I stop and remember who I really am.  So yes, there will be kitchen moments and some pretty good food.

But there will also be travel – lots of travel – to places new to me, to experiences not yet had.  And there will be evidence of children in my life in the left-behind blow bubbles and chalk drawings on the sidewalk.

And there will be protests.  I will not go gentle in to that good night – not because I fear dying, but because there is so much yet to be said to the living about how we could all do it a bit better and somehow, I persist in thinking that I need to say it whether you wish to hear it or not – yes, I will be that old lady – the one who always has advice that you never quite know how to respond to because I am your elder and it would be rude to say what you’re thinking (although that is what I would much prefer you do rather than that nice, vague, dismissing thing).

I will write letters to the editor.

I will say even more of what I think.

I will sing with gusto (if not talent).

I will know my limits and not mind them at all, old friends that we are.

I will dance alone and with others.

I will wear brighter colors and keep coloring my hair because I like it that way, knowing full well that I am not fooling anyone, even myself.

I will, I hope, be grace-filled and patient with and interested in the young.

I will share my stories and look at your pictures if you’ll share and look at mine.

I will have fabulous dinner parties.

I will risk more.

When they come for the boys, I will offer that they send me.

I will be generous and give away as much as I can before I actually leave this verge.

And I will definitely use the good china, unless I give it to the kids first.

This, then, is my old-age manifesto.

I’m not so young anymore, so I think I’d better get busy.  Think I’ll start with the china – followed by a letter to the editor – I’ve got some thoughts on the news of the day and after all, they need sharing, for what is the point of all this wisdom if I do not share it?

It's an And World

So saith Julian*:

Truth sees . . .

Sees what?
All?
Or nothing?
Sees how little it sees?
Knowing itself to be so small,
it cares not how little it knows,
rejoicing in the enough, the sufficiency
of its tiny knowing and calling that good and good enough

Wisdom contemplates . . .

Truth
beauty
longing
knowing
not knowing
fulness
emptiness
the all-ness of The One
the partial-ness of itself
limits and eternity
bounded and boundless
love and hate
truth and lies
will and surrender
the bigness of the small
and the smallness of the big
words written on the page and in the heart
sung by the birds and children and operatic maestros

Love arises . . .

as Truth sees
and Wisdom contemplates
and all is well and very well
indeed
for Love arises
again
and again
and again
and and and

_______________
*Inspired by the writings of Julian of Norwich

The Wisdom of a Gran

Monday is for laundry.
           I don’t know why.
           It just is.

The grass is always greener til
           you’re the one who has to mow it.

Chances are when I’m glad to see you,
           you’re glad to see me.

Never be afraid to dance, sing, laugh when you’re by yourself.
           It’s good practice for when other people are watching.

If you want to navigate all the hells you’ll meet in life,
           it’s a good idea to hold on to heaven with all you’ve got.

Reuse tin foil and baggies and bread sacks –
           they’re useful and people will think you’re eccentric,
           which is not a bad reputation to have.

Feeding the world
           begins with knowing how to cook.

I will always love you
           no matter what
           count on it.

Art made by the hands of a child
           is always worth framing.

Guests, even uninvited ones, are a gift –
           treasure them.

Never be afraid to
           cry in front of others or laugh alone.

Pick the soundtrack of your life wisely –
           those voices will be in your head for a long time.

It's better to seek forgiveness than to seek permission
          is only good advice for picking someone else's flowers.

Why Is the Knowing So Costly?

For in much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.  –Ecclesiastes 1.18

Blissful ignorance –
you state of happy
unknowing
Donde estas?
Gone . . .
gone . . .
erased slowly
with each bit of
knowledge achieved . . .
of wisdom received

Why is the knowing so costly?
The question percolates up
to the place where wisdom
and grief
knowledge
and sorrow
meet and dance

Why so costly?
How could it be otherwise?

________________________
Written in 2005, I pondered then as I ponder now the place of blissful ignorance and the cost of knowing the cost to others of the actions I take as they ripple into this world of which I am a citizen too.  Yes, knowledge is costly, as it should be.

To My Younger Self

Some while back on FB, the question was randomly posed: using just two words, what would you say, if you could, to your younger self.

Obviously cheating by using only two words per line rather than the allotted two words, I gave thought to that younger self, so far gone she’s almost beyond reach and wondered what I could possibly say to her that would be worth the saying.

Here goes:

Beloved, love

Look out!

Fear not

Life is

Love you

Forgiven you

Didn’t know

Slow down

Speed up

Dance more

Sing loud

Lighten up

Be you

Good job

So glad

Great ride

Walk daily

IDK okay

Teeth matter

Don’t . . . 

Do . . . 

Regret not

You rock

Yeah, they’ll do, all those two-word atta-girls and admonitions.

It’s a silly exercise, isn’t it, for the very simple reason that she cannot hear me.  I can barely hear her.  Which leaves me wondering what she has to say to me.  Now that’s worth considering.  Another time.

I Confess My Unsettledness

I am older than Dr. King

not older than he would 

have been but than he 

was or ever got to be

How is it, then, he seems

so much older than me?

I think it must be the 

wisdom in those eyes

and the jam-packed life

filled with centuries

more than most folk

get or have or do

in just one time round

I confess there is an

unsettledness in this

older but not wiser than

state of being

10 Things I'd Like to Tell My Kids

1. Time flies faster – faster than words . . . faster than time itself – hold onto all of it, this life, real tight.

2. Don’t run from your own tears.  Revel in them, for they, too, are life.

3. You are loved.  More than you may ever know, you are loved.

4. It all matters.  There is no small stuff.  Every single bit of it matters.

5. You make me laugh – all of you – and that’s a rare gift.

6. I am blessed among women for each and all of you in my life.

7. I am so jealous that I will most likely not know you in your old age – there’s that time thing again.

8. Wisdom is the pay-off for age and I love that each of you love and value the old.

9. The world is a different place because you are in it.  Different and better.  You matter.

10. There really is nothing to be afraid of.

What Other People Say About Me Is None of My Business

Someone once dear to me returned from one of his first meetings at Alcoholics Anonymous and reported that a woman there had made the statement, what other people say about me is none of my business. 

We laughed together at her ignorance, so sure of our superior wisdom.  Boy, were we stupid.  Turns out she was right, that wise AA old timer.

It can sound silly, can’t it?  If it’s not my business, whose on earth would it be?  Isn’t anything that’s about me by its very nature my business?  Sure.  But here’s the thing: what other people say about me isn’t about me at all.  It’s about them.  What they think.  How they see.  What they understand – or don’t.

What I speak of others betrays my mind, my heart, my deeds, not theirs.

It’s so freeing to be rid of the desire for reputation.  It’s freeing not to have to worry about the whispers of others.  It’s freeing not to have to respond to the accusations or assessments of others.  It’s freeing to allow others, as friend and pastor Mark Davis recently observed, to think anything they like about me . . . to judge however fairly or unfairly they will . . . to simply allow others to think that I am an idiot if they so choose and be none the worse for it.

What others think and say about me is none of my business.

Now that’s worthy of a cross-stitch.

I think I’ll add it, coming to a total of two my imperatives for this stage of my life:

1. I might be wrong.
2. What others say about me is none of my business.

***

“Who steals my purse, steals trash . . .  but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.”  –William Shakespeare [Iago in Othello].  The irony is that Iago means to do exactly that – steal the good reputation of Cassio in the eyes of Othello.

With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.  –Oscar Wilde

“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:  Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God:  But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men . . .”   –Philippians 2.5-7 (KJV).

When Did I Become That Woman?

When did I become the woman who will be at your bedside when you need her?  When did I become old enough to know what to do in a crisis?  When did I become the one who’ll rub your back aching with the cold that settled right there?  When did I become the Gran throwing the 5-year old into the tub?  When did I become the grown-up in the room?

I really would like to know.  Because inside, I still feel like the baby, the child, the teenager, who wants herself to be taken care of and totally incompetent to take care of others.

So when did it happen that I became the one?

I guess I wasn’t looking when it crept up on me.

Friend Sue always reminds us from her 92-year-old vantage that “Old age is not for sissies.”  I think she meant more than the aches and pains.  And she’s so right.

Turns out I’m not a sissie.

I guess that’s a good thing.

Yes.  It is a good thing.  And yes, I am that woman.

Life Rhapsody No. 1

At creation . . . or was it before –
does it matter?  – The question
(implied of course, for angels
never speak in the interrogative)
is posed – and time itself –newly
created infant that it was --
gasps at the audacity –

Angel’s They won’t thank you for it.
– their self-awareness;
the knowledge that they
will some day die.
They won’t thank you for it, You know.

God I know.

***

Friend Sarah’s ‘this too shall pass’
wisdom is wisdom indeed,
but when did wisdom ever breed gratitude?
Is it the wisdom that grants us the cheek
to hate our creator?
It is
but we hate God for that too, I think, I fear.

***

I’m an evangelist for sadness.
I do sad really well.
What that says about me,
I do not pretend to know.
But there it is.
Having a bad day?
I’m your gal.

***

Messing with the birds
I throw open the door and
the cacophony outside comes
full stop
I laugh with the glee of the
child uncaught
and shut the door
do a ten count
song resumes
throw open the door again
stops
Repeat and repeat and repeat
again – comfort & joy in playing
hide & seek with the birds –
who knew what great
playmates they are?

***

Tis the season 
all bright and wild, 
if Mary had been 
filled with reason, 
there would have been 
no room for the Child.
–Can’t Remember Who (wrote it)

***

The light in the wrong place
as I try to type the words
from the page
the light is always
in the wrong place
blinding – erasing out
the black on whiteness
of the painful words
why can’t I see them?

***

I find the Christmas poppers
in the trunk along with the
other gifts and baked treats
and am delighted – here is
the thing Mom (elevated
at that awkward never-seen-
in-the-created-world angle
reserved for hospital beds)
and I can share – we will
have a Christmas tomorrow –
it’s a thin thing, I know –
even before, Ben always
insisting that I am the only
one among us who enjoys
the poppers and they – the
rest – only go along to humor
me – but I know better –
humoring me is not something
this family does – and so I
am pleased beyond all
proportion, wondering if Mom
would want a picture in her
paper party hat tomorrow
or if the imagining will be
better – am betting the latter
– that hospital bed angle
really isn’t flattering to anyone

***

It is Christmas Eve
My mother lives
Survivor of wars and
family and cancer –
hers and others –
she will not be undone
by a little thing like
a car accident –
and she and I will spend
our Christmas together
at her bedside
and I will know that
I have received my
gift – no baby to me,
she, but a baby
nevertheless
in the created
scheme

***

Rhapsody

Sidewalk Chalk Wisdom

Sidewalk

Chalk wisdom

true for a time

it washes away

when no longer 

needed it just 

disappears

I wonder

where did 

all this

wisdom go?

A Hearing Heart

A sermon excerpt reflecting on the story of King Solomon,

two mothers and a baby about to be split in two

As James would have it, foolishness says it is wise, but wisdom keeps its mouth shut.  Foolishness is ambitious, wanting many things for itself; wisdom could care less about such things.  Foolishness tells lies to get ahead; wisdom speaks the truth no matter the consequence.  Foolishness doesn’t care about other people; wisdom strives always to get along with others.  Foolishness makes war with others every chance it gets; wisdom strives always for peace.

When seeking to know whether someone is wise or not, we have already asked the wrong question – the issue is not whether a person is wise – the issue is whether the choice they make is wise.  For the sad fact is that a person can be wise one moment and foolish the next; and so it was with Solomon. . . so we would do well to speak not of the ‘wisdom of Solomon’, but rather of the ‘wisdom of Solomon’s choice’.

Solomon prayed for this gift, the gift of wise choosing, for the ability to understand and discern, to make good, just decisions . . . that was his prayer and it was a prayer granted by God.

But it was still up to Solomon to exercise the gift . . . it was up to him to act wisely . . .

Like all of us, sometimes he did; sometimes, he didn’t.

Raphael's Judgment of Solomon

On the day touted as celebratory of Solomon’s great wisdom, two women came to the King, the person with the authority to resolve disputes, to settle an argument about a child – this is not only the first recorded legal decision; it’s the first recorded child custody dispute, filled with all the drama and pathos of such fights in our own time.  Where there were two children, now there is only one.  To whom does he belong?  With whom should he live?  What is best?  What is true?  Where resides love?

For this is the foundation of Solomon’s wise decision – love, not biology.  The true mother is the one who loves, not necessarily the one who births.  Think about that for a moment.  What does Solomon say for his ‘judgment’ in the matter?  “Give the first woman the living boy . . . she is his mother.”

The first woman is the boy’s mother because the king said so.

What Solomon’s wisdom sought was love . . . that was the result the test was designed to produce . . . love . . . the true mother was the mother who loved . . . now most have assumed that the one who loved is the one who birthed and that was probably the assumption at the time.  But notice what Solomon does not say . . . Solomon does not say she gave birth to the living boy . . . he is not necessarily making a statement of fact; but he is definitely making a conclusion of law, a decision . . . she is his mother . . . the King has spoken, the decision has been made.

And isn’t that what the wisdom of Solomon understood?  He didn’t see the results of genetic tests . . . he saw mercy . . . He didn’t hear witnesses with proof . . . he heard sacrifice . . . He didn’t decide biology . . . he decided love . . . and therein lies wisdom . . .

This is what the people saw that day in court . . . for as the story says, they saw the wisdom of God, the wisdom that James reminds us which comes from above and brings with it mercy and love, peace and justice.

Did you know that one of the names for Jesus in the Bible is “the Wisdom of/from God” [1 Corinthians 1.24 & 30]?  Another name for Jesus is ‘Love’ (‘Love of God’) [Titus 3.4].  In Islam, Jesus is sometimes referred to as the ‘heart (or soul) of God’.  In Jesus the Christ, are wisdom and love entwined into the very heart of God.

If we can understand this and claim this for ourselves, if we can pray the prayer of Solomon, “give your servant an understanding mind”, or maybe the better prayer, as this phrase in verse 9 can be translated, “So give Thy servant a hearing heart”, if we can ask God for a ‘hearing heart’, perhaps we can come to the place of wisdom . . .

The place that seeks the best for the other. . .  that loves even when love costs us that which we love . . . the place that knows it isn’t always about me . . . the place that knows that even though there are times when I will fail, I can still stand back up and begin again, love again, receive and extend mercy again . . . seek and be peace . . . again . . . choose wisely . . . again.

For beloved, even a fool can be wise.  Just ask King Solomon.

Let us join our prayer with his . . . Lord, Give Thy servant a hearing heart.  Amen.

Do I Want a President Who Is Wise?

Do I want a president who is wise?  Or do I want a president who agrees with me?  Do I conflate agreement with wisdom?  Chances are I do.  But I don’t want to.

For here are the qualities that I really seek in a president – or any other leader, for that matter:

1. I want my president to be smarter than I am.  Smart as in wise and well-read and open to all options and able to assimilate a lot of information in a fairly short amount of time and able to think long-term consequences as well as short-term gains.  I want my president to see farther than I can.

2. I want my president to have spiritual depth.  I do not seek a president who will be my spiritual leader.  The structure of our governance does not allow for a ‘pastor-in-chief’ (a phrase I first heard used by a conservative whose name I cannot recall about George W. Bush, but which has since been used to refer to Obama, Romney and Santorum on different occasions).  Those running for the office of president are not qualified to act as spiritual leaders – their expertise lies in the realm of the temporal.  That is not to say that they lack spiritual depth of their own; it is to say that personal spiritual depth is a very different thing than leading others in spiritual ways.

3. I want a president who understands the concept of collective sacrifice and can explain it to us as a nation in a way we can hear, understand, and heed.  We live in challenging and difficult times.  But we might do well to recall history in order to recall that every generation has lived in challenging and difficult times in one form or another.  I want my leader to tell me the hard things to hear, to not shy away from what the opinion polls might negatively react to, to challenge us to give more, do more, be more, to recall that we did not get where we are by wishing.

4. I want a president who respects the office and the oath as much when it comes to enemies as to friends.  I want my president to respect my freedom of speech more, not less, when we disagree.  I vow to do the same and give him* a fair hearing.

5. When deciding the best interests of the nation, I want my president to remember that honor and integrity are as much a part of the best interests of the nation as are physical and economic security and act accordingly.

6. If my president must be beholden (and I would prefer he were not) to anyone, I would prefer he see himself as beholden to me for my one vote, however I exercise it, as to any of the myriad of corporations and special-interest groups who will donate millions to his election efforts.

7. I want my president to be a good student of history, starting with our own: not our mythology, but our history – the good and the bad of it.

8. I want my president to put away the cheerleader pom-poms, discard the talk of exceptionalism, and get down to the business of governance.  It’s hard work.  It requires dedication, effort, attention, and truth-telling.  Telling us what we want to hear is a waste of our time.

9. When it comes to problem-solving, I want my president to begin with identifying the problem and the causes.  Seldom, if ever, is one person, let alone one party, solely responsible for the ills of a nation.  Thus, for example, when it comes to curing our economic ills, I’d like my president to remind me of my own part in all of this as citizen Beth: Wall Street, government deregulation (accomplished by both parties working together), corporate savagery, all have their place.  But so too does individual greed, the idea of buying above our means, of entitlement not to life’s necessities, but to its luxuries.  In other words, I would very much like to be treated as a grown-up and reminded that my behavior must change too if we are to come out of our economic woes as a nation.

10. I don’t want to see my president all that often, as I would prefer him to be busy about the business of the nation.

11. I want my president to be the best him he can be.  I do not require my president to shake my hand or have a beer or even want to have a beer with me.  He need not look like me, act like me, or even think like me.  I am not the best yardstick for a good president.  If he is to be a great or even a good president, he must be true to himself.

12. I want my president to hire people to work for him who passionately disagree with him.  Being surrounded by sycophants is an invitation to believe in the truth of one’s own publicity, which is a sure beginning of foolishness.  Hearing from people who think differently is crucial to seeing the world more broadly, to learning new ideas, to working around problems in ways perhaps he never before even imagined.

So, fellow citizens, I don’t know what you’re looking for in a president.  But I do know this: for far, far too long, we have settled for far, far too little from our leaders.  We have demanded they be just like us, and to borrow from the kids, we aren’t all that.

For my own part, I will not celebrate ignorance.  I will not rejoice in the language of moral rectitude that has no backbone.  I will not be jollied by platitudes and slogans.  I will not believe the attack ads.

I will listen.  And I will read and learn.  I will explore.  I will pray.  I will decide.  And then and only then will I cast my vote.

And at the end of the day, whoever wins, I hope they retire to have that proverbial beer not with me, but with their friends, for surely they will have earned at least that much respect and well-wishing from me.



__________________
*I believe fervently in inclusive language.  I use ‘he’ and ‘him’ herein because the only viable candidates in this particular election are male.

I Met a Thoughtful Man Today

I met a thoughtful man today.

His name is Earnest.

He suits his name.

In the midst of the hubbub of the exhibitors and the exhibited that is the Exhibit Hall of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA), a man sat alone at his particular booth as folks walked by.

Taking a stroll around to collect the swag on offer, I sat down and we talked.

Earnest was thoughtful and reflective and took his time to compose his words and offered wisdom, taking me much more seriously than I deserved and being much kinder to me than I was to him.

I wonder if I’ll ever be old enough or calm enough or thoughtful enough to simply offer my wisdom with such quiet grace.

I doubt it, but I sure hope so.

My life is richer because I met a thoughtful man today.

Blessings on you, Earnest.  May the spirit of repose that emanates from you flow into the crannies and crevices, sweeping away any tides of injustice and indignity which may surround you.

Heed the Advice of the Wise: On Being a Following Shepherd

When I first met Arthur Pow, he was tending the flowers of the church grounds at St. Luke’s in Greenock, Scotland, where I was serving as a student minister intern.  I was leaving church when Arthur, then in his 80's,  took a break from his gardening to meet me.

We spoke for a time, during which Arthur spoke to me of shepherds and their dogs – following the flock, not leading; gently keeping an eye out, not herding.

I think now and I thought then that Arthur was giving me a bit of wisdom.

Lead by following.  I wonder: is that part of Jesus’ notion that the first shall be last?  Watching out for the strays, taking it slow – no hurry, leading by following?

I tend to want to charge ahead, only seldom checking to see if anyone is following, to hurry, to be impatient with the ‘flock’, which, by its very nature, slows each other down.

But maybe slowing each other down is part of what we do for each other when we come together.

A slow herd seldom falls from the cliff.

_______________
Arthur was a retired physician who loved flowers.  Arthur died peacefully this January 16th past.  Well done, good and faithful friend to so many.  Dr. Pow's Obituary