Cutting Back

Last September I did something completely uncharacteristic of my usual frugal self. I spent several hundred dollars on landscaping around the front of my house. (I don’t know if you get to call it “landscaping” when it’s only flower beds, but I will, anyway. I’m very proud of it.) I discovered that the friendly couple down the street who wave and smile when I walk by have their own small business related to gardening and irrigation systems, and I decided to take the plunge. I asked them to plant some flowers and do something to encourage the slowly-dying but stubborn irises that come back year after year. The result was quite amazing and wonderful. I have so enjoyed looking at the mix of roses, lantana, plumbago, yucca, and newly-revitalized irises.

When cold weather came, I worried about the plants, but Molly, the gardener, assured me that they would be all right. And sure enough, the irises began to bloom last week, and there were some rosebuds visible this morning. Before that, though, I was worried. The other plants were bare and straggly and brown, and I wondered if they had really made it. Molly saw me digging up weeds in my front yard Saturday afternoon, and came down with gloves and shears, offering to do some clearing out and cutting back. I had to go back into the house to take care of some things, and left her at her work. When I came back out an hour later, what a change! The spindly, bare branches were all gone, and the plumbago, lantana, and shrimp plants were cut way back. Molly and Jonathan had also weeded the flower beds, and cleaned up the yucca. At that point I remembered the conversations (sometimes arguments) I had heard over the years about cutting back plants. How much? When? I never knew enough to get involved in those exchanges.

Then it came to me that perhaps “cutting back” is an appropriate metaphor for me at this stage of life. Perhaps that’s something we might all think about during Lent. Established habits of thought and patterns of behavior can get dry and barren of meaning, so that occasional gentle pruning or even severe cutting back can help us refocus on what matters most. Giving up things that really aren’t important anymore and making room for new growth is important.

We’re doing some financial cutting back at church, not without pain. Yet I have hope that these cutbacks will help us focus on what is most important, and inspire us to give more for those things. We can trust God to give the growth.

And as to those flower beds, I can hardly wait to see what will come next. Will the plants really come back and bloom? I trust Molly, and I certainly trust God!

Earthquake, malaria, and everyday life

Brooks Schuelke, intrepid and endlessly resourceful chair of our Social Justice Team, had a busy Sunday morning today. He was designated to present the Ministry Moment—a very brief informational/inspirational talk highlighting one of our church’s many ministries—at three of our Sunday morning worship services, a task that can be accomplished with careful planning and attention to time. Brooks had also been at last Wednesday evening’s Chapel service with his message.
Any Ministry Moment is most effective when it is delivered with conviction, brevity, and just a bit of passion. Brooks brought all those qualities to his testimony about “Imagine No Malaria,” a mission of the United Methodist Church worldwide, in cooperation with an agency of the United Nations and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. The ambitious goal is to eradicate malaria in sub-Saharan Africa by 2015.
This is a very big deal, and the Austin District was chosen as first to be involved. Several Austin churches have already reached and exceeded their goals.
Brooks began by acknowledging that all of us have felt the desperation of people in Haiti after the very recent earthquake and commending those who have given of their resources to help. Then he went on to tell us that many more die of malaria—a preventabledisease--in Africa every year than have died in the earthquake in Haiti. Our church will focus on Imagine No Malaria in the coming months, with a Sunday in April as our main day of emphasis.

The needs of those suffering these disasters can seem overwhelming! Earthquake, disease, flood, drought, famine, and war disrupt and dominate the lives of people all over the world—far from us in miles, but as close as the pictures on our television sets and computer screens. Meanwhile, our everyday lives go on, largely uninterrupted by major catastrophes. So what are we to do? How much can we give?
I’m pretty sure that most of us can give more than we usually do—more than we think we can. Imagine no malaria! Imagine a rebuilt Haiti, on a firmer footing than that tiny, troubled nation has ever known. Imagine having a part in making those things happen!

There are lots of ways to give to the immediate needs in Haiti, but probably no more efficient, cost-effective way than through UMCOR, the United Methodist Committee on Relief. They are on the scene, delivering direct aid. If you want to contribute, write a check to FUMC, and designate it for UMCOR. In the meantime, watch for more information to come about Imagine No Malaria. And also in the meantime, may our everyday lives go on, with a deepened sense of gratitude to God for all we have.

Keep on singing

As a person who watches and listens to way too many media newscasts, I've found the last months very difficult. A year ago I was full of hope, believing our nation was on the brink of a new season of comity and cooperation in government and public affairs. Now, in this winter of almost everyone's discontent, I find it hard to be hopeful. Then, as I was looking through my Christmas files, I came across a copy of a poem I received from a friend and brother in ministry, Dr. James Mayfield. Jim came to First Church as a U.T. student in my first year as Director of Youth Ministries, and his friendship and encouragement has been a constant in my life for more than fifty years. He sent this poem as a Christmas greeting in 1998, and I find it speaks to me today. I share it with his permission. It's titled "Joy to the World."

In this time when
words are hurled like spears
to add wound to wound
and pain to pain,
in this time when
the smoldering smog of resentments
and
self-righteous angers
increase the darkness of this winter
we are enduring with profound discontent,
a carol is somewhere sung
and once more
the Word of hope
is flung into the darkness.
The tragic omnipotence of love
begins its work again
as God refuses to give up on us
and
sends to us once more
the angels' song
proclaiming a world-tranforming birth.

I'll keep on singing the carols...will you?

Christmas shopping

A long time ago we used to say, with some frustration, “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but the stores have their Christmas decorations up. Now we make that kind of remark (complaint?) about Christmas items for sale even before Halloween. When I recently heard a church member say that he had finished all his Christmas shopping, I was filled with a mixture of awe and envy. I am only at the fretting stage.
And fret I do! I love the Advent-Christmas season! I love planning the music for the services I work with; I even love struggling with the sometimes very peculiar Scriptures selected for Advent; I’m filled with gratitude and wonder at the generosity and resourcefulness of our folks who give so much and do so much to make the Christmas season joyful for those who have little. But I fret about gifts. Even when I’m shopping for an unknown child or mom in a family my Reunion Group will sponsor through Any Baby Can, I fret—even agonize—about what to choose. I’m pretty sure I will choose the wrong thing, and can only hope that my selection will be useful, if not loved.

Shopping for family members got easier for me some years ago with the introduction of the Alternative Gift Market in our church. I select gifts that match their interests or situations—educational materials for the teachers and former teachers, farming help for the brother who grew up on the farm and still loves the land, business support for women for my feminist sisters (of both blood and friendship). Each year there’s an array of choices in these categories and others to suit our interests. One year James and Susannah put their resources together in one giant gift, and gave the family a water buffalo. We think about him (her?) often, and wonder about the family and village that large creature has blessed.

This Sunday (and probably again on December6--I always forget someone the first time--I'll go shopping at the Market and choose lots of gifts. But then I’ll still do some shopping for my immediate family, not without fretting. And I’ll tell myself, as I always do, that even though choosing gifts is not my best thing, all my offerings will be received with love and good humor. I trust those who receive them to know that my gifts are representative of the giver—far from perfect, but full of love.

Has God changed?

That question has been addressed by people far wiser and more learned than I. Books on the so-called evolution of God have been popular. The question came back to me in recent sessions of our Disciple Bible Study class. We’re in the early Old Testament—a part of the Bible I dearly love, and feel very passionate about teaching. There are some wonderful and terrible stories about the people of Israel and their God.

The wonderful stories describe God’s love and care for the people, shown in God’s mighty acts of creation and deliverance from slavery, among others. There are some terrible stories in which God commands the people to kill thousands of people--or so they think. And there are some really funny stories in which faithful men (Abraham and Moses) argue with God, finally cajoling the deity into doing the right thing.

People talk about “the Old Testament God” as if that one were a mean, ruthless old man, full of wrath; and the “New Testament God” as one who is loving, forgiving, accepting, and gracious. Sounds as if God evolved and got nicer over the centuries.
I propose that people evolved and got nicer and wiser over the centuries. Primitive people had a primitive understanding of God. As time passed, they learned from their experiences and from prophets and others who had learned to listen to the leading of the Spirit. They began to understand that God was the God of all people, with love enough for everyone in the world, whether or not they knew the right name and the right way to worship. In Jesus we can see the one whose life showed the fullness of God. Jesus showed us that God wanted us to love our enemies, not kill them.

Has God changed? No. Have people changed? Yes—but not enough. There are still places where people want to kill everyone who is not like them. There are places where there is prejudice and discrimination and hatred among people because of differences. We don’t make graven images anymore, but we do have a tendency to make God in their own image, rather than being willing to grow into the image of the God who made them. We tend to look for a God who approves of us and our way of doing things. We have some more evolving to do!

Remembering Ireta

First Church lost a dear and devoted friend when Ireta Kellberg died on September 5, after a courageous struggle with cancer. She served as our Financial Secretary for more than twenty-five years, always giving her very best.

In Ireta, the church got more much than a competent worker—we got a wonderful friend. Her job as financial secretary was all about numbers and dollars and cents, but her ministry was all about loving people. There was a whole cadre of church members—mostly retired gentlemen—who made it a point to bring their contributions to the church office personally every week. They could have put their offering envelopes into the plate on Sunday, but they came in person, so they could have a visit with Ireta. She made their gifts important, and she made them feel important and loved. And she managed not to make me feel stupid when, time and again, I would be late with information she needed, or when she have to explain for the umpteenth time how some fund worked, or help me think of the name of some long-time member whose identity had left my memory bank.

If you’ve been around the church any time at all, you know that our staff operates like a family. We are a family. We don’t always get along perfectly…we know each other’s flaws and peculiarities…we occasionally pick at each other….But we are family, and we love each other. We love each other, we loved Ireta, and she loved us.

In the staff family, she was like the big sister who sometimes lost patience with the little brother (this would be the youth director—it’s always the youth director!) who habitually overspent the budget and failed to turn in credit card receipts in timely fashion, but who would always be forgiven and restored to favor. She was like the aunt who would appear with wonderful gifts at the birth of a baby or a wedding or a birthday, the one who kept up with family members after they left the nest, and like the niece who kept up with the old ones and made sure they were still remembered and included in celebrations. She was the mom whom we could count on to come up with all our favorite foods for staff celebrations. She was the grandmother who cherished every child—staff or member— who came through the office. The doll clothes she made for Hannah Son are collector’s items! The Beanie Babies she sent to Russia with our mission team are being loved by dozens of children. For years, when her own grandchildren were little, packages of books, crafts, toys, dolls, whatever, would be delivered to the office several times a week—Ireta was the catalogue dealers’ best friend. The treasures she brought to the staff Christmas parties for our gift exchanges were always the ones most wanted, most often taken from the current lucky possessor. She instinctively knew what was just the right gift for every occasion…or for no occasion at all.

Ireta lived largely and generously, and made us all happier and richer for it. She gave us much more than each day’s work—she gave us her love, and among the many gifts, perhaps the best was Tami, a fearful and wonderful gift!

Our church family changed when Ireta retired from the staff, and of course, life has changed even more for her closer family. But Ireta leaves her imprint on all of us. We will remember! We will tell stories, and we will weep a little, and laugh a lot….and most of all, give thanks to God for our dear friend, Ireta.

Vacationn Anxiety

Vacation Anxiety
On Monday I’ll be leaving town for five days of vacation in Colorado. I’m spending the time with seven of my dearest friends in the world, so I know it will be a great time. We’ve been talking about a road trip for years, and this one (partly by air!) will be wonderful! And yet, I’m feeling stressed as I think about it. I’ve had very little to do for preparation (these friends always take care of me), so why am I stressed? I just need to pack my suitcase, have one more chat with the cat-caretaker, confirm my transportation to the airport, and I’ll be ready. But I’m feeling anxious, full of “what ifs”.

What if my family needs me? What if somebody in the church needs me? What if I get sick? What if the cat gets sick? What if the cat-caretaker forgets to come? What if the air-conditioning goes out? What if it rains and I miss it? (That would be great, actually!)

All those “what ifs” remind me of Martha of Bethany—the one to whom Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious about many things.” Then he went on to say that her sister Mary, who was just hanging around, listening to him talk, had chosen “the better part.” I’ve always felt sorry for Martha—after all, she was getting dinner ready for Jesus and the disciples, a perfectly reasonable task. But I think Jesus was commenting not on what she was doing, but her anxiety, which was colored with some resentment of her sister’s behavior.

I tend to be a lot like Martha, but am trying to develop the Mary in me, as well. So once I get on the plane (maybe even in the taxi!) I’m going to leave Martha behind. If someone needs me, they’ll figure out how to get what they need from someone else, or if it’s a desperate need, they’ll find me. If something goes wrong at home, it will be dealt with.

Life is full of “what ifs”, but the person of faith will not live among them. Vacation is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully, and leave my anxiety at home. Vacation, with all its anticipated joy, is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully. I’ll have some stories to share when I get back!