I was remembering the other day my first time preaching in the pulpit. Ohmygosh, I was so nervous! I had led worship a month or so earlier at our parish Good Friday service, and that went alright. But I had not preached at that service.
I remember so well that first time preaching because it was Memorial Day weekend, 2003. Not in my home church, but in a sister church of our parish. Having never prepared a sermon, I didn’t know where to start. But something told me … today I would identify that “something” as a Holy Spirit nudge … somehow I knew to start with what I know. And the rest would flow. My earliest memories of Memorial Day include a morning ceremony at the high school gym with much pomp and circumstance. The high school band was at its finest. Those in attendance stood as the color guard processed with the flags. Behind them, dignitaries made their way to the stage. Veterans from various branches of service filled in the reserved seating on the floor. Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts brought up the rear. Speeches were made. Special music sung or played. Prayers were prayed. After this, many would go to the cemetery to give proper respect to those who had served their country. The 21-gun salute. The playing of Taps. And the singing of Taps by our Girl Scout troops. Over time, Memorial Day weekend included, for me, family camping and boating at Lovewell Lake, attending Davenport’s alumni banquet, and leading my own Girl Scout troops in the singing of Taps. I could have ended my first sermon there. But I had more to share. I didn’t know I would have another opportunity. And another and another. Instead, my first morphed into my longest sermon EVER. Little did I know that God had been preparing me to share how my story intersects with God’s story. Hmmm. Sounds like testimony. Lord, prepare me to be a testimony, pure and holy, tried and true. With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living testimony for you. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat
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Yay, Yay, Yay! It is done, done, done! It took me three days, but now it is done. The groundcover planted years ago among our mature trees has received its annual weeding. And I am so happy!
Years ago, we transplanted tiny groundcover plants from another area in our backyard. It has taken a little extra TLC over the years for these baby plants to get established. They are planted in soil that dries out fairly easily. They don’t get water unless we have a lot of rain that makes its way through the trees above. The pine needles and pine cones that fall each year provide a natural weed barrier and help retain moisture, but they also make it difficult for new runners to get established. Thus, the annual weeding of the groundcover. The weeding is more of a cleaning, actually. Using my rubber-gloved hands to push aside excess pine needles from the outer edges of the plants so runners can latch onto solid ground. Using my leaf rake in the “still bare” areas to just skim the surface of any winter debris that has “flown in.” Using my sharp-edged hand tool to hopefully “get all of the root” when I come to the dandelions or mulberry and elm saplings that escaped last year’s ritual of care. Tender loving care. And I wonder … what is “excess” in my life that could be moved aside in order for new life to emerge? Is there debris cluttering the landscape of my heart? Have I overlooked a nagging “something” that is now deeply rooted and needing particular attention? What new thing is attempting to take hold if I make some space for it, and nurture it? Holy and Gracious Gardener God, we thank you for your tending of our souls. Help us as we seek your solid ground as basis for our lives. May we flourish in your tender loving care. Amen. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat Happy Mother’s Day! Happy Graduation Weekend! Happy end of the school year! And welcome to summer … a month early!
Can I just say it? Mother’s Day has been for me an awkward day of celebration. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother. And I love that there is a special day to honor the special place that she holds in my life and in my heart. I have also loved my mother-in-law, blessed be her memory. She too has held a special place in my heart and life. And I love my aunts, my sister, and my niece, all who have been great moms to their children. In their own special ways, they have even mothered me at times. And did you know … Hallmark has a Mother’s Day card for each of them? I have never birthed a baby, in the biological sense. Even as the spouse of a divorced parent with teenagers, my parenting was minimal, unneeded or unnoticed. To be sure, I have never had anyone call me Mom or Mother. But I have helped other parents raise their children. Girl Scouting, Youth Groups and mission trips help teach life skills. Build strong relationships. Grow caring, compassionate citizens. I have nurtured infants, children, youth and adults in their faith journeys. I have watched them grow spiritually over the years, steadily or in spurts. I have popped my buttons, as any proud parent would, when I see Christ’s light shining through them … when I see them using their God-given talents to share Christ’s love with others. And I have willingly stood in the gap, bringing families’ and humanity’s needs and desires to the Divine. For this, I am called Amma. For this, I am thankful. Loving Parent, bless your people with mothering instincts and insights so all may know your nurture and embrace. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat The time was right this past week to get back on track. Daily devotional reading. Watching mealtime portion sizes and choices more closely. Only healthy snacks. Daily prayer walks outside now that the weather has changed. This Walter Brueggemann prayer, from his collection Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth, is providing me with much food for thought.
We try, as best we can, to live by bread alone We try, as best we can to live by bread alone, Or pie or cake or sweet rolls. And then comes your word! In our hearing we are reminded that We live by every word that proceeds from your mouth, Promise and gifts, Blessings and threats, Summons and commands, Assurances and requirements. We thank you for bread, and for the many cakes, pies and sweet rolls That inhabit our life of privilege. While we munch, Give us ears, make us better listeners, Give us patience with our odd utterances, Give us openness to your new utterances, We vow to listen. We pray in the name of your fleshed utterance become our bread. Amen. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat |
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