I met Rev. Geoffrey Black tonight, the candidate for the President and General Minister of the United Church of Christ tonight. Maybe it's because I'm older. My boss is my age. My physician is younger than me. The First Lady, Michelle Obama, is my age. President Obama is only a few years older than me. And now, the next President and General Minister of the UCC, my church, is a contemporary.
I can relate to that. Very cool.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
And the hate goes on...
About ten years ago, I had a pastor who shared the theory that humans were at the end of their "teenage" years. Makes sense when you think about the vast history of human evolution. The teen years are visceral, passionate, filled with hormonal emotion. Teens tend to be impulsive, to believe they are immortal and indestructable. They act first and then think. They say incredible things without any filter.
For thousands of years, the human race has been solving conflicts through war, hate-filled words, segregation (the cool kids sit at their own table at lunch) and the condemnation of anyone who doesn't fit in.
As adults we cringe when we hear how mean teenagers can be to each other. But, the examples we are setting are more serious and harmful. Here's a situation my close friend Arlene is dealing with. Anti-gay messages full of hate, targeted at others. The assassination of Dr. George Tiller. The 88 year old neo-Nazi who walked into the National Holocaust Museum and killed a guard at point-blank range. There is nothing noble in this. There is nothing that advances the human race through these hate-filled actions.
My hope is that this is the end. That enough people have evolved into young adulthood who begin to hold the rebellious, hell-raising teens accountable for their hate. My fear is that they will not "go quietly into that good night." The teens realize they are quickly being outnumbered and they are very, very afraid. My fear is that things are going to get much worse before they get better. It's up to us to hold the line and not let these domestic terrorists continue to push their hate-filled agenda and actions on anyone else.
It's up to us to bring our children into a new world, populated with young adults who are more idealistic in our world view. As the saying goes, "another world is possible."
For thousands of years, the human race has been solving conflicts through war, hate-filled words, segregation (the cool kids sit at their own table at lunch) and the condemnation of anyone who doesn't fit in.
As adults we cringe when we hear how mean teenagers can be to each other. But, the examples we are setting are more serious and harmful. Here's a situation my close friend Arlene is dealing with. Anti-gay messages full of hate, targeted at others. The assassination of Dr. George Tiller. The 88 year old neo-Nazi who walked into the National Holocaust Museum and killed a guard at point-blank range. There is nothing noble in this. There is nothing that advances the human race through these hate-filled actions.
My hope is that this is the end. That enough people have evolved into young adulthood who begin to hold the rebellious, hell-raising teens accountable for their hate. My fear is that they will not "go quietly into that good night." The teens realize they are quickly being outnumbered and they are very, very afraid. My fear is that things are going to get much worse before they get better. It's up to us to hold the line and not let these domestic terrorists continue to push their hate-filled agenda and actions on anyone else.
It's up to us to bring our children into a new world, populated with young adults who are more idealistic in our world view. As the saying goes, "another world is possible."
Saturday, May 9, 2009
This Facebook Thing
I am rather in awe of this thing called Facebook. When I first started this journey last summer, I was amazed by people who had more than 100 friends. I don't know that many people, or so I thought...
From the first person who "friended" me, I was hooked. I found an old friend from church camp and then U of Iowa days whom I had not been in contact with in a million years. And, it snowballed from there. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't jumped on the Facebook wagon, but I think it is unbelievable.
Last night, I found a college roommate whom I haven't been in touch with for more than 15 years. We're planning on getting together in Iowa City for homecoming this year and it is our motivation to get other college friends together.
I shrieked the night that a childhood friend who moved from Red Oak to Colorado when we were in junior high appeared as a friend. Nearly 30 years and wondered what had ever happened to her and her family.
Today, I list 173 "friends" from every world of my life. It is bizarre when a kindergarten classmate and my yoga teacher comment on the same status update..."when worlds collide" takes on an entirely differnt meaning.
I think I've got the hang of Facebook now. Time to figure out Twitter...
From the first person who "friended" me, I was hooked. I found an old friend from church camp and then U of Iowa days whom I had not been in contact with in a million years. And, it snowballed from there. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't jumped on the Facebook wagon, but I think it is unbelievable.
Last night, I found a college roommate whom I haven't been in touch with for more than 15 years. We're planning on getting together in Iowa City for homecoming this year and it is our motivation to get other college friends together.
I shrieked the night that a childhood friend who moved from Red Oak to Colorado when we were in junior high appeared as a friend. Nearly 30 years and wondered what had ever happened to her and her family.
Today, I list 173 "friends" from every world of my life. It is bizarre when a kindergarten classmate and my yoga teacher comment on the same status update..."when worlds collide" takes on an entirely differnt meaning.
I think I've got the hang of Facebook now. Time to figure out Twitter...
Monday, April 27, 2009
Rethinking Stereotypes
LiturgyGeek's post from prom 2009 is a "Spot of Good News."
Here's what I find interesting...and maybe there's a sociologist that can study this one and get back to me. My good friend LiturgyGeek grew up in California. I grew up in rural southwest Iowa. She's ten years younger than I am. She grew up with two moms. I didn't even know what being gay meant until I was 15 years old because our town was pretty insulated and it just wasn't obvious to me.
My stereotype of LiturgyGeek - California, New York, Berkeley... and what I know about her life experiences so far gives me a picture of a progressive, liberal woman who actively works for civil rights and social justice.
A stereotype of me is pretty much stalwart Midwesterner...Iowa, University of Iowa, Omaha, back to Iowa... never lived anywhere else, never really wanted to. But, I also see myself as a progressive, liberal woman doing what I can to support civil rights and social justice.
The difference is that we expect it from someone who has lived life on the coasts in urban areas...we don't expect it from someone who has lived squarely in the middle of corn, soybeans, and pigs.
Isn't it interesting that today in Iowa, same-sex couples can legally get married and in California, that window was open ever so briefly last year and is now (hopefully temporarily) closed.
Here's what I find interesting...and maybe there's a sociologist that can study this one and get back to me. My good friend LiturgyGeek grew up in California. I grew up in rural southwest Iowa. She's ten years younger than I am. She grew up with two moms. I didn't even know what being gay meant until I was 15 years old because our town was pretty insulated and it just wasn't obvious to me.
My stereotype of LiturgyGeek - California, New York, Berkeley... and what I know about her life experiences so far gives me a picture of a progressive, liberal woman who actively works for civil rights and social justice.
A stereotype of me is pretty much stalwart Midwesterner...Iowa, University of Iowa, Omaha, back to Iowa... never lived anywhere else, never really wanted to. But, I also see myself as a progressive, liberal woman doing what I can to support civil rights and social justice.
The difference is that we expect it from someone who has lived life on the coasts in urban areas...we don't expect it from someone who has lived squarely in the middle of corn, soybeans, and pigs.
Isn't it interesting that today in Iowa, same-sex couples can legally get married and in California, that window was open ever so briefly last year and is now (hopefully temporarily) closed.
Friday, March 27, 2009
A Faithful Pilgrim Continues to Lead by Example
A small group of our middle schoolers met at our church this week with their moms. We had two fifth grade boys and one seventh grade boy take part in a Faith Stepping Stone for this age group on the Passover, Communion, and living a forgiven and forgiving lifestyle. It was a great class and a meaningful experience.
On Tuesday night, we closed the evening with prayer. We shared our concerns and in particular, we lifted up our 97-year-old member, Homer. He is near the end of his life, with family surrounding him, singing hymns to this wonderful retired pastor, veteran, and a servant of God. "A pilgrim leading the rest of us on the journey..." as one friend describes him. The pastor says she's just waiting for the phone to ring.
We all prayed for Homer, these three boys from age 9 to 13, and their moms. Within moments of closing the prayer, the phone rang. The air left the room. The pastor excused herself and the rest of us talked somewhat nervously among ourselves. When the pastor returned to the group, one of the boys said, "I know this is really not my business, but, was that about Homer?" No, another member of our church had surgery that afternoon and they were just reporting that things went well.
We then ended the evening with a celebration of Communion. The elements placed on a small table, we stood in a circle and the boys gave the Words of Institution as they remembered, with the adults filling in as needed.
It struck me how Homer would be so pleased to witness this Sacrament. These wonderful boys in that in-between place from boys to teenagers who were praying for him, concerned about him. These boys had never had such an intimate experience of Communion and I felt privileged to be a part of it.
I shared this story the next day with my friend Bob at lunch. Bob happens to be the administrator at Mayflower Community, where Homer lives. Bob is one of those people who tell me who I am in a way that I cannot walk away from. Bob told me that I needed to go and tell Homer the story. Yes, he's nonresponsive, but he just may hear you, and his family will want to know this story. "And Laura, this is not about you." He's right.
I felt led to Homer's room, to visit with his daughter in the hallway to ask if it was okay for me to visit with Homer. I shared the story with her and we both were overcome with tears. I wondered if I would be able to actually get the words out of my mouth when I was with him.
However, as I sat down by his bed, I felt a sense of calm and peace. I laid my hand on his arm and told him the story as if he were smiling that signature smile we will not forget. This man, this servant of God, continued to bless us all by his presence. I prayed with him, for him, and for the boys who lifted him up in prayer and concern.
When I had finished, the daughters were smiling through their tears and said that he was most interested in his ministry living on after him. I don't think that will be a problem.
One of the daughters remarked that I got through the story without choking up. I said, "I don't think it was me doing the talking."
Earlier that morning, I was feeling sorry for myself. I was frustrated and tired. There is so much heartache surrounding my close friends and families these days. But, that afternoon, I was blessed by a dying man, simply by his presence.
Rev. Homer Perry died later that night, March 26, 2009, at the age of 97. My son John offered this prayer when he learned the news, "God please welcome Homer and I hope he travels safely." Homer is home, just where he's been waiting to be.
On Tuesday night, we closed the evening with prayer. We shared our concerns and in particular, we lifted up our 97-year-old member, Homer. He is near the end of his life, with family surrounding him, singing hymns to this wonderful retired pastor, veteran, and a servant of God. "A pilgrim leading the rest of us on the journey..." as one friend describes him. The pastor says she's just waiting for the phone to ring.
We all prayed for Homer, these three boys from age 9 to 13, and their moms. Within moments of closing the prayer, the phone rang. The air left the room. The pastor excused herself and the rest of us talked somewhat nervously among ourselves. When the pastor returned to the group, one of the boys said, "I know this is really not my business, but, was that about Homer?" No, another member of our church had surgery that afternoon and they were just reporting that things went well.
We then ended the evening with a celebration of Communion. The elements placed on a small table, we stood in a circle and the boys gave the Words of Institution as they remembered, with the adults filling in as needed.
It struck me how Homer would be so pleased to witness this Sacrament. These wonderful boys in that in-between place from boys to teenagers who were praying for him, concerned about him. These boys had never had such an intimate experience of Communion and I felt privileged to be a part of it.
I shared this story the next day with my friend Bob at lunch. Bob happens to be the administrator at Mayflower Community, where Homer lives. Bob is one of those people who tell me who I am in a way that I cannot walk away from. Bob told me that I needed to go and tell Homer the story. Yes, he's nonresponsive, but he just may hear you, and his family will want to know this story. "And Laura, this is not about you." He's right.
I felt led to Homer's room, to visit with his daughter in the hallway to ask if it was okay for me to visit with Homer. I shared the story with her and we both were overcome with tears. I wondered if I would be able to actually get the words out of my mouth when I was with him.
However, as I sat down by his bed, I felt a sense of calm and peace. I laid my hand on his arm and told him the story as if he were smiling that signature smile we will not forget. This man, this servant of God, continued to bless us all by his presence. I prayed with him, for him, and for the boys who lifted him up in prayer and concern.
When I had finished, the daughters were smiling through their tears and said that he was most interested in his ministry living on after him. I don't think that will be a problem.
One of the daughters remarked that I got through the story without choking up. I said, "I don't think it was me doing the talking."
Earlier that morning, I was feeling sorry for myself. I was frustrated and tired. There is so much heartache surrounding my close friends and families these days. But, that afternoon, I was blessed by a dying man, simply by his presence.
Rev. Homer Perry died later that night, March 26, 2009, at the age of 97. My son John offered this prayer when he learned the news, "God please welcome Homer and I hope he travels safely." Homer is home, just where he's been waiting to be.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Outraged?
"It's an outrage!"
Yeah, it is an outrage that companies who took bailout money from the Government gave a good chunk of it to the geniuses that ran the company into the ground. Where's their sense of morals and decency?!? The unmitigated gall!
Here's what I'm outraged about...there are thousands of people who have to choose daily between buying their medications or buying food. There are elderly couples who will cut their pills in half or share the medications to avoid the extra cost - doing neither of them any good. Might as well not spend the money on the prescription at all.
I'm outraged that we have some of the best healthcare in the world, and if you don't have health insurance, you can't get it. The need for safety net programs is rapidly rising at a time when community clinics are losing revenue. That's outrageous.
There are people in New Orleans, the Mississippi coast, Texas, who all these years later are still relying on church youth groups to rebuild after hurricanes. There are people in Iowa who are still dealing with the damage from last year's catastrophic flooding - homes, business, libraries, schools, universities.
Our government tortured people in our name, knowingly lead us into a war sending our loved ones into harm's way to settle a score, spied on innocent Americans, all in the name of patriotism. And we are silent. That's outrageous.
I suggest that if We, The People, had the same level of outrage for abuses of basic human rights as we seem to have over this bonus situation, we could really make a change in the world for the better. Yes, the bonuses are outrageous, but more outrageous than children and families in your Anytown, USA going to bed hungry every night?
Yeah, it is an outrage that companies who took bailout money from the Government gave a good chunk of it to the geniuses that ran the company into the ground. Where's their sense of morals and decency?!? The unmitigated gall!
Here's what I'm outraged about...there are thousands of people who have to choose daily between buying their medications or buying food. There are elderly couples who will cut their pills in half or share the medications to avoid the extra cost - doing neither of them any good. Might as well not spend the money on the prescription at all.
I'm outraged that we have some of the best healthcare in the world, and if you don't have health insurance, you can't get it. The need for safety net programs is rapidly rising at a time when community clinics are losing revenue. That's outrageous.
There are people in New Orleans, the Mississippi coast, Texas, who all these years later are still relying on church youth groups to rebuild after hurricanes. There are people in Iowa who are still dealing with the damage from last year's catastrophic flooding - homes, business, libraries, schools, universities.
Our government tortured people in our name, knowingly lead us into a war sending our loved ones into harm's way to settle a score, spied on innocent Americans, all in the name of patriotism. And we are silent. That's outrageous.
I suggest that if We, The People, had the same level of outrage for abuses of basic human rights as we seem to have over this bonus situation, we could really make a change in the world for the better. Yes, the bonuses are outrageous, but more outrageous than children and families in your Anytown, USA going to bed hungry every night?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The World's Wilderness Journey
Lent is such a struggle for me.
I'm so much more of an Advent person. I find such transformative power during Advent with its themes of joy, hope, peace, and love. The mystery, the light shining in the darkness, the music...
I was pregnant with our children during Advent and identify so strongly with Mary's journey because of it. Birthing hope, I get that. It is deeply affirming for me.
But Lent.... seems to be about my totally imperfect self, sin, and introspection, and giving things up, and guilt, and fasting, and discipline, and...ugh. I recognize that we have to slog through Lent, to experience the range of emotions that is Holy Week, in order to truly live out the glory of Easter.
No matter where you go these days, it is difficult to find a corner of one's life free from stress. Sure, a reasonable amount of stress is alright, but the constant barrage of gloom and doom on the news, at work, even in our houses of worship where budgets are having to be cut to size is more than a little depressing. It's like the entire world is wandering in the wilderness being taunted by the Devil. And perhaps, that's not a bad analogy of the past few years. The Mardi Gras-style spending and consumerism with hurricanes, parades, and beads, gave way almost overnight to fasting, introspection, and serving ramen noodles at dinner parties.
We know how Lent ends. We know that things got worse for Jesus before they got better. We know the Resurrection promise that transformed the world on Easter morning is coming. Maybe this year I'm finding more relevance in my Lenten experience because it is echoing what is happening in my life. I'm finding more comfort in my meditation and prayer because I know this time will pass, that things will get better, that we will find our way out of the wilderness and be better for it. The promise of Easter and all that it holds, gives me the hope to look forward to what God has in store.
I'm so much more of an Advent person. I find such transformative power during Advent with its themes of joy, hope, peace, and love. The mystery, the light shining in the darkness, the music...
I was pregnant with our children during Advent and identify so strongly with Mary's journey because of it. Birthing hope, I get that. It is deeply affirming for me.
But Lent.... seems to be about my totally imperfect self, sin, and introspection, and giving things up, and guilt, and fasting, and discipline, and...ugh. I recognize that we have to slog through Lent, to experience the range of emotions that is Holy Week, in order to truly live out the glory of Easter.
No matter where you go these days, it is difficult to find a corner of one's life free from stress. Sure, a reasonable amount of stress is alright, but the constant barrage of gloom and doom on the news, at work, even in our houses of worship where budgets are having to be cut to size is more than a little depressing. It's like the entire world is wandering in the wilderness being taunted by the Devil. And perhaps, that's not a bad analogy of the past few years. The Mardi Gras-style spending and consumerism with hurricanes, parades, and beads, gave way almost overnight to fasting, introspection, and serving ramen noodles at dinner parties.
We know how Lent ends. We know that things got worse for Jesus before they got better. We know the Resurrection promise that transformed the world on Easter morning is coming. Maybe this year I'm finding more relevance in my Lenten experience because it is echoing what is happening in my life. I'm finding more comfort in my meditation and prayer because I know this time will pass, that things will get better, that we will find our way out of the wilderness and be better for it. The promise of Easter and all that it holds, gives me the hope to look forward to what God has in store.
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