Seattle!

So right after my time in Minnesota I flew back to the northwest - but not to my hometown. Instead I landed in Seattle because I had the chance to connect with some friends for a couple of days. My friend Karen and her dad had been in Alaska fishing the week before - and since they are from New York City I didn't wanna miss out on seeing them on this side of the country! Plus Kirsten, Janna & her kids joined in as well.

Of course we had to see the Space Needle - in fact it was quite close to the MarQueen Hotel where we stayed. It is a fun place that once little apartments for mechanics back in the day. We had fun hanging out in the hood - fell in love with the Metropolitan Market (great snacks and good, cheap wine :-), and generally acted like tourists.

We also spent some time on Bainbridge Island - which you have to take a ferry to get to. I think taking a ferry ride with little kids is maybe one of the more fun things to do in the world!

Plus we found the super yummy ice cream spot on the island and had a great time enjoying fabulous treats in the sunshine! What fun it is to explore a bit of a city along with good friends!

Presbygeek

In July, I had the opportunity to head to Minnesota and join with lots of other presbyterians as we converged on the city of Minneapolis for our General Assembly. Actually, I got to go a bit earlier for the Campus Ministry Summit, held at Macalester College in St. Paul. That was a great chance to see colleagues from all over the nation, hear from our keynote speaker, the Rev. Dr. Steve Haynor (new prez of Columbia Seminary) and generally enjoy time with others who "get" why campus ministry matters. The time together was good fun, worship coordinated with folks from "The Table" was wonderful - check them out at http://www.thetableatcpc.org/ - and it was all over much too quickly!

But for the uber-presbygeek there was still General Assembly, so I crossed the river to Minneapolis. I was officially there as an exhibitor for the group PACHEM (Presbyterian Association for Collegiate & Higher Education Ministries). There was much to do - between daily worship, hanging out schmoozing in the exhibit hall, connecting with presby-friends from all over and testifying on behalf of campus ministry I kept busy. I even got the chance to grab a meal with the pastor from my hometown church and another friend from the presbytery where I grew up.

Some explanation - for those of you who don't speak presbyterian, the General Assembly is our big national meeting that happens every two years now. We gather, worship, and have big meetings with representatives from all over the country where we vote on all sorts of things. It is what we do to prayerfully discern who God is calling us to be & where God is calling us to act, pray, etc. in the world. A presbytery is a regional grouping of churches - the one I grew up in is called Palo Duro Presbytery, named for the beautiful canyon found in the panhandle of Texas. And the reason these two guys are holding their fingers up by their heads is that the restaurant we picked was called Hell's Kitchen. Which we found amusing since we are all presby ministers - therefore the devil horns - I know, I know, but we were amused! And the food was AMAZING - I totally recommend it to anyone headed to the twin cities!

This is only the third GA I've been to - and I find them an interesting mix of meaningful worship, family reunion, business meeting, and politicking. But regardless of whether I find the day uplifting or frustrating, I can't deny that this is my faith family and I enjoy getting to see us in action. May God bless the work of my fellow presbys, now all back in their home congregations.

Summertime

So I haven't written here in quite a while . . .but that is because things have been busy here. The summer started with what may be one of my favorite things about living in Oregon - the STRAWBERRIES!!! This year we had a particularly wet, chilly spring - so the wait was long. We prayed for sunshine so those little red yummy berries would ripen, and eventually they did.

There are lots of small, farmer owned u-pick places in the area. This year the place I went to had six varieties, each one sweeter than the next. These were all destined for either my tummy or the freezer, so the morning was spent picking Raniers, Shuksans and Bentons. All delicious and so sweet. I honestly don't remember tasting sweeter strawberries before the move to the northwest.

Berry picking was always something that sounded sort of Laura Ingallls Wilder - something you might do on your way home from the one room schoolhouse. I have learned a few things that reading the "Little House" books didn't teach me. For one thing, it is best to pick in the morning, before things warm up. And you need to bring something to carry your berries home in - preferably something not too deep, because if they are in more than a layer or two they get squished, and that is a sad thing to find when you get home after scootching around in the ground picking berries all morning!

To me the summer really starts when strawberries are around - so that is how my summer started, one lovely morning out listening to the birds sing picking strawberries galore . . .and enjoying strawberry shortcake for dinner!

A Touch of Texas

This hoosier cabinet is now living in my dining room. I had been looking for something like this for awhile, and this one found me by way of Craig's List. It was a lot cheaper than similar ones I'd seen in antique shops and it fits in the space, so I was excited to bring it home. Imagine my delight at finding a note from the previous owner in it, saying that she acquired it while living in Wichita Falls, Texas! She said it was used as a display piece in a gift shop where she worked and that it was the only piece of furniture there to survive the big tornado of 1979. Little did she know that I grew up just an hour from that city, and I knew people who lost their homes in that storm. And now, here I sit admiring the "new to me" cabinet that survived the big one.

I liked the cabinet to begin with - I like having furniture that has a history. I like imagining the pioneer woman who used the grinder in the cabinet to make flour so she could bake bread on a wood stove. I like thinking about how she might have stored the food she put by to feed her family in it. It might have made a trip in a covered wagon, or lived in a soddy. And now I know in addition to being a useful piece of furniture for a few generations, it made the same trek I did from Texas to Oregon. AND it survived some seriously stormy weather to get here - I like having a survivor in the house. And I'm looking forward to adding to its stories!

Um, maybe it's more than a little spill . . .

All of us are guilty of helping to create a world that demands the use of so much oil, gas, coal . . . . instead of just being angry at BP, maybe we need to figure out what we can do in our own lives, to change the system, to protect the planet.

God of Creation, have mercy upon us.

Riding the Waves

One of the things I like most about living in Eugene is that it's only about an hour to the coast. The Pacific Ocean in all its glory, rocky coasts, lighthouses, amazing seafood, beautiful sunsets, whale watching. It is truly awe-inspiring. Every time I make it out there I wonder why I don't go more often. It makes me almost as happy as it makes the dog! He can't get enough of running on the beach, playing catch with the driftwood sticks.

Being there puts things into perspective for me; helps me to remember what really matters. It seems like a week doesn't go by lately without news of someone getting sick, a friend's death or someone's kid going to the hospital. Spring is supposed to be all about LIFE, but the news I've been hearing is darker. The ocean helps me to remember that while big waves are scary, they are also amazing. That there are whole worlds about which I know not one thing. It helps me remember there is more out there, and I'm not in charge of it - for all of that I am grateful.

Planting

This spring has been filled with planting. I feel as though most of my time has been spent on things that won't bear fruit for several years. The most obvious of those is the yard. Last fall, with the help of some guys with strong backs and a few friends who wanted to give plants a new home, almost every plant in the yard was either relocated or sent to become compost for the city. Practically the whole lot was then covered with newspaper and/or cardboard and LOTS of leaves to smother the weeds and anything else that might grow. In the meantime, a talented landscape lady drew up some plans so that the yard can one day be low-maintenance, lovely and also produce more stuff to eat.

Now that spring is here it is time to begin making those drawings a reality. So far there are some new flowers, a couple of hedges,4 blueberry and 4 huckleberry bushes, a fig tree, a plum tree, a quince and 6 dwarf apple trees. There is still a CRAZY amount of planting that needs to happen in the coming month and in the years to come, but it is starting to take shape. However it will be a couple of years before any actual harvest happens. In the meantime, there have been some lovely surprises. Not everything got smothered as planned. There were some persistent bulbs that wouldn't be discouraged by a few layers of cardboard and a foot and a half of leaves. So, much to my surprise, there were some hyacinths and tulips and daffodils - quite the Easter lesson. Even in a yard filled with rotting leaves, bursts of color happen, spring happens, Life happens.

At the same time, I have spent hours in meetings planning and dreaming and hoping as we work to plant the metaphorical seeds so that the campus ministry can become self sustaining. That project will also take some time before we see results - fall 2012 is the goal.

So, we plant, and we water (sometimes with sweat, sometimes with tears), and we hope and we wait - and in the meantime, I'm keeping my eyes peeled for signs of Easter hope.

Using My Voice

"She's so quiet, hardly ever says a word" . .. those of you who know me can guess these words have NEVER been used to describe me. I think I might have started talking before I was home from the hospital. I was always a chatty child, getting in trouble for talking to my neighbors in grade school. I preferred to think of it as just being friendly - after all, we weren't sharing answers or anything, just visiting because we were already finished with the assignments.

From the time I was in second grade I was involved in theater - a place where having a good strong, LOUD, clear voice is appreciated, thank you very much! (I actually remember being pleased that in that context I wasn't considered loud, I just projected well. ) In high school I even competed in talking - well that isn't what it was called, but I ask you what else is a speech tournament?

Now I'm a minister - so some people might assume I talk for a living. And preaching is part of the story, but more of it is listening. However, I don't shy away from a chance to speak - whether from the pulpit or in a classroom. Heck, I even talk in my sleep.

But here is the thing - even though I don't seem to have a problem speaking, never have, I sometimes have a problem speaking up. Maybe it is because I am usually a rule follower, or because I tend to want things to go smoothly, or because I often assume someone else knows more about something than I do- whatever it is, I have found myself wishing that I had said more sooner in a few situations lately. They all relate to a person I have to work with regularly. And the frustrating thing has been that when I do speak up, when I have tried to make myself heard - it seems to fall on deaf ears. Which would be annoying enough, but THEN when it turns out I was right (ok, I'm not always right, but go with me here), when the dust settles and what I had to say would actually have made things better - it is as though I never said a word.

Now, I'm not hoping for a big scene wherein I am proclaimed wise and all knowing by this person. I'm not even looking for an apology for being ignored. But I would think that after a few times I might have a LITTLE bit more credibility there! Of course, when I take a deep breath and think about it, I cannot lay all the blame at that person's feet. I might have qualified my opinions a bit too much and undercut the strength of what I was saying. I might have waited too long to say something, hoping for just the right timing.

The thing is I get frustrated not only with this situation, but with myself. So the irony is that the loud girl has to find her voice. I have to figure out how, in this situation, to make myself heard even when it might make things difficult for me, even when it is hard, even when I have to shout to be heard. Because I do have to work with this person - and I CARE A LOT about my work. And I will NOT let this person's inability to hear me affect what it is we are hoping to do in our ministry here. So, I'm working on finding my voice, on speaking up, on speaking out, on making myself heard - even if my voice is trembling I will find a way to keep saying something.

The poet Taylor Mali (www.taylormali.com) has a little something to say about this - hope you enjoy it, it inspires me!

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

best friends

On this Valentine's day when there are hearts and flowers and chocolates all around I am grateful for friends. I have lots of friends in my life. It's a blessing really - the number of people who I care about and who care about me. And it isn't just the kind of "friend" that counts because you read their facebook status updates (altho that has been a delightful way to reconnect with folks I must admit). No these are not the kind of people one might "un-friend". These are the folks who I know I can call at 3a.m. if I need to talk. We can talk about what we hope for, what we are disappointed about, the things that we would just burst if we couldn't share them with someone, and the things we wish weren't happening at all. We talk with one another when we can, send round-robin emails to catch up with one another, and just keep talking and laughing and crying and sharing and caring in one big ol' conversation that has now lasted for well over twenty years.

I remember when I was a kid worrying that I didn't have a "best friend". It seemed to me like all the folks in the books I read, on the tv shows I saw, in all the good movies, had a bff. Someone with whom they shared EVERYTHING. That wasn't my reality. I had friends, people to hang out with and play with - there were lots of Barbie dolls and pretend shows. There were sleepovers and birthday parties and fun memories. But it wasn't until I was older that I started finding forever friends.

Some of them were people I had known for a long time, but it wasn't until we were all older that we truly got to know one another. Some of them were people I met in college. People who seemed to speak the same language. Even though we were from different places, different family situations, studying different subjects - we could talk and laugh and cry together. This tribe is one where I have always felt free to be exactly who I am - and I love all of them for exactly who they are, too.

There are lots of songs and poems and cheezy cards being circulated today celebrating romantic love. To be clear, I'm a fan of that, too. But I think we sometimes undervalue the gift of real friends. So on this Valentine's day, I'm thankful for the genuine love of good friends because, near of far, I cannot imagine life without them!

staying power

These words are carved on a small wooden doorway at the top of a small stairway leading to a little, cell-like room in a tower - it is a lookout at the front of an old church at the abbey on the Isle of Iona. It was in this little room that the monks took turns watching and waiting. It wasn't like a castle lookout tower with a warning bell or a place for weapons to protect the place. It was situated so that the person who was "on-duty" could let others know when someone was coming to the abbey. The purpose of the watch was to welcome the stranger.

What must it have been like to wait and watch, to pray and try to stay awake as you looked for someone, anyone, who might be coming your way? I admire the resolve to welcome the strangers, and find it speaks volumes that this was part of their daily worship - just as much as leading the psalm-singing or planting the garden or carefully illuminating a sacred text.

Waiting is not my strong suit. Like most 21st Century Americans I have been conditioned to expect instant results. Hungry? Well there are any number of "fast" food places, and even if you cook you can be eating in 30 minutes. In Love? There are drive-thru wedding chapels only a flight away in Vegas. Wanna be entertained? You can instantly stream a variety of films, tv shows, etc. Curious about anything? Google it. Want something you can't afford right now? Charge it.

We all know, at some level, that waiting can be a good thing - but that doesn't mean we like it. 2009 was, for me, a year of waiting. We have been looking for ways to do more ministry, to reach out to more students, and (most pressing) ways to afford to keep this outreach alive. We have good ideas, and lots of dreams. But, for a variety of reasons, the timing hasn't quite worked out. So . . . . we keep praying, we keep planning, we keep dreaming - and because we are Presbyterian we keep MEETING! Lots of meetings! All of that adds up to LOTS of waiting.

Waiting to begin what we feel called to do in order to give new life to this ministry. Waiting for the right plan, the right team, the right vision. Waiting to welcome more students. I feel like I've been in that watch tower for MONTHS - and I can see, in the distance, a whole group of students heading our way. But the sea keeps changing and their boat can't quite reach our shores yet.

Frustrating? YES! But not without hope. We continue to listen, to hope, to pray, to work, AND to wait. And deep down I believe that all of this will happen in God's time. And when it does, we (like the monks) will be waiting to welcome in the new faces, tired from their voyage, looking for respite. I just need to figure out what those monks did to keep from going crazy in the meantime!!!

Wait on the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; Wait for the Lord! ~ Psalm 27:14

feeling small

There are times when I feel particularly small - which is funny, because I have always been a big woman, even at my skinniest. But when I stand looking up at tall trees, or out at the ocean, or into a clear night sky, or at a mountain range - I feel small. When I hear about how many people are hungry, homeless and cold in our county, I feel small. When look at children existing on what food they can collect from the city dump in Nicaragua, I feel small. When the news is filled with a tragedy like the one in Haiti, I feel small.

Small because I wonder what can one person do, really, to make a difference when there is so much pain in the world. But then, then just when I think I might be small, I hear voices raised in hatred and blame - like Job's friends, let's blame the victims. Let's vilify the immigrants, the homeless, those who have just watched their island home crumble, who even now are digging family and friends out of the rubble. That is when I know who is really small - those who have little love in their hearts.

Then I am reminded that we are all children of God - we are empowered to be the light in this world. We can't change it all by ourselves, but we can do our part. And if all of us speak up, act up, give, help - then it CAN make a difference. I am reminded of Mother Teresa telling folks that if there are those who are poor or hungry in this world it is because those of us who have more than we need haven't shared with others.

This weekend we mourn the tragic loss of life and hope in Haiti, and we think about the life work of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. Maybe we don't remember the names of all the people who worked in the Civil Rights movement, but the fact of the matter is, no matter how gifted, driven, and passionate King was, the country changed because LOTS of "little" people were willing to join the movement. They gave money, time, energy, respect of the status quo, and some, like Martin, gave their lives. Some things are worth giving it all.

I'm not sure how all this fits together, but I think it does. It is something about living for reasons bigger than us, reasons like love and justice. It is something about hearing the call to love our neighbors, to be the salt and light in this world. It is something about remembering even in the face of darkness and fear that love and light are greater. It is something about doing little things for big reasons, even when we feel small.

a crabby new year

I had the distinct pleasure of welcoming 2010 with some dear friends. We spent the weekend at the coast and made the most of one of the best years ever for dungeness crab! They were ENORMOUS and amazing - you didn't even need to dip them in butter, mmmmmmmmmm!!!!

What we couldn't eat went into an amazing seafood gumbo the next day - it pays to have friends who know how to cook! We got to watch a storm roll in from the comfort of the cabin (in front of the fire!), watched movies, played games and then went for some walks along the coast when the weather let up. All in all not a bad way to start the year, in fact I think it would bode well if the year follows that pattern. Out enjoying the beauty of nature when you get the chance, great meals from the bounty of local food, friends who will ride out the storms with you. Can't ask for much more, can you? Happy 2010 y'all!