And the children told the story...

The annual Christmas pageant. The traditional carols. The littlest ones dressed as cows or sheep. Honestly, adorable to tears.

It's an old story. Nothing new to tell. But that's the appeal of the whole thing, isn't it?

Maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed there were more people there than usual. Maybe  tonight we needed to be with our children and to take the time to be children ourselves.


Telling children they are treasured is one thing, but actions speak much louder than words, don't they?

It's been a tough week.  A student at the college died and that affects us all in this little town. A life cut short too soon. And this was before Friday's senseless event.

From our littlest three-month-old member to the eldest members of our congregation, we gathered to watch the familiar story told and acted out by our children and adults. To sing the songs, to allow our smiles to bring tears as the children sang "The Friendly Beasts," and to pray together as a community. And our children comforted us.

"Joy and sorrow are inseparable...together they come and when one sits alone with you, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed." ~ Kahlil Gilbran

Singing with the lady in the back of the room...

She sat there in the back of the room as we ran through the Christmas songs. I know a lot of people at the Mayflower, one of our town's retirement communities, but she was not a familiar face to me. She was one of the first to arrive from her room for the program. She chose a seat in the back row on the aisle.

As others came in, the room began to fill. More chairs were brought out and set up so that everyone could enjoy the program. From "Jingle Bells" with real jingle bells, "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" and "Up on the Housetop" songs of childhood Christmas came right back. When Mrs. Claus read "The Night Before Christmas," I could imagine the years falling away and each of them sitting in their chairs as children, wearing grownups clothes.

Moving out of childhood and into their young adult years, we sing "Winter Wonderland" and "Silver Bells." I can still see my lady in the back who's with me note for note. These songs are not necessarily the favorites of children. They mention city streets, romance, walks in the snow with sweethearts facing unafraid the plans they've made... From where I stand singing with them and for them, I see those I know who have lost a spouse. In the space of the music, it doesn't matter if it's been 20 years or two weeks. Those feelings are still present.

I know that my favorite secular Christmas song catches my voice every time. It is so sentimental. Front and center before the room, direct eye contact could be my undoing. But I know we will all be somewhere other than this room when we sing "White Christmas." This room of people from so many different worlds of my life are very special to me. As we begin to sing, I do look around and notice I'm not the only one with a catch in my voice or an extra tear.

My lady in the back of the room with eyes closed, was a young girl in 1942 when Bing Crosby first sang "White Christmas." The woman next to her wearing a headset so that she can hear, has her hand over her mouth and is gently rocking. Music touches us. It transports us. The energy created in that room was extraordinary and ordinary all at the same time. It wasn't anything fancy. It wasn't a difficult piece. We all knew the words.... by heart.

Getting In Touch with Grace

In the building where I work, there is a fitness center. Treadmills, cardio equipment, weight machines... you know.

I have no reason, no excuse not to workout here. I know all the benefits and have certainly experienced them. But I simply do not care one jot to actually take advantage of this more-than-convenient place to exercise. Like so many other things, once I'm there, I have a good time. I'm glad I went. I like the people. The staff are great. But, what a CHORE to get myself to go. I avoid it like the plague. Seriously.

I've been doing a lot of mental mining with my dear shrink lately. It's been a pretty extraordinary fall, a whole year, frankly. I've learned a great deal about myself. Kinda like meeting myself for the first time, really. 

Some people say that they "feel good in their own skin." All of a sudden,

I've realized that I really don't. Hmm... guess that means one thing.

It's time to get in touch with Grace.

In the same way that Dear Shrink is helping me mentally and spiritually, Grace is going to add the physical part, to help me continue discovering my true self.

Grace is the name of my personal coach. Isn't that perfect?

Blessings

My Prayer For You - from Sabbath Moment, written by Terry Hershey

Blessings of thanksgiving to you and yours from me and mine. 

When you're lonely I pray for you to feel love.
When you're down I pray for you to feel joy.
When you're troubled I pray for you to feel peace.
When things are complicated I pray for you to see simple beauty in all things.
When things are chaotic I pray for you to find inner silence.
When things look empty I pray for you to know hope.
Amen

Pssst...The Whisper Campaign

Ten days ago, my kids and I went to President Obama's last campaign rally ever in Des Moines, Iowa. "You caught history," is one way a friend described it. 

A couple of days later, I received a phone call from our town's newspaper editor. Because of my job, that is not an uncommon occurrence. Peggy's number is posted directly above my work phone. 

"So... I've heard that you were in Des Moines on Monday for the President's rally?"

"Yes, my kids and I went. It was pretty amazing."

"I have a great photo of the President addressing the crowd and I'm going to mention some of us who were there. May I include your name and your kids?"

Well...uhm...I DID post it on Facebook pretty loudly and wrote about it here, so...

"Of course."

The paper comes out on Thursday night and sure enough, there was a very great photo taken by one of Grinnell's foremost photographers, Henry Wilhelm. One can easily say that Henry is one of the more important people in photography, period. Google him and you will find out why.

Our names were mentioned in the cutline with other Grinnellians who had also attended.

And then it happened. I went to the women's room at work and a co-worker says to me, "So, you are an Obama supporter?.... Me too. I just don't ever talk about it at work unless I KNOW that the other person is a democrat, too."

We had a lengthy discussion, mostly she talked and I listened, about being careful to keep one's political views to themselves at work. I spent four years studying political science and psychology at university and was kinda eating this up. It now feels like we have this little secret society going.

Then, on Monday, a senior officer at work stops me in the kitchen. "So, you are an Obama supporter?" 

I'd always known that she was most certainly NOT an Obama supporter and thought to choose my words carefully.

"I saw in the paper that you went to the rally in Des Moines."

Uhm...think, think... and before I could say a word, she said, "I am a huge supporter of the President."

No. Way. 

Well, THAT lightened up the mood.... It was also a quiet, whispered kind of conversation that was very similar to the one just days before. And it struck me that we each felt like we were sharing some kind of secret about ourselves that others may look on with disapproval if we actually said it out loud. I thought to myself, this IS Grinnell, right? I'm not back home where the race used to be decided by the GOP primary and the county democrats could meet comfortably in someone's living room... Things have changed there, but it is still a republican stronghold. And I get it.  I worked for three republican elected officials from a US Member of the House, to a US Senator, and a republican mayoral candidate in Omaha. I get it.

Interesting, too, that we were cautious in our comments immediately following one of the most loud, polarizing, and longest elections that I can remember. 

Isn't it interesting the things that cause us to pause?

Let's Stay Together...

There are those moments in life when if we are lucky, we recognize that it is time to quiet the brain, open the heart, and just be. Take in the moment and actually be present.

Being fully present doesn't come easily to me. My brain is always working, always on the next thing or the last thing ... but rarely in the here and now.

Being fully present requires a little vulnerability to actually experience and feel what is going on. At times it can be overwhelming. It can happen just as easily in everyday moments as well as obviously life-changing moments.

Last night, my kids and I went to Des Moines, Iowa with about 20,000 other Iowans, crammed into a five-block area of Locust Avenue, just west of the Iowa Capitol. It looked even more impressive than usual with extra floodlights making it shine. And the obvious high moments - Bruce Springsteen on his own. The First Lady with her usual grace and sincere gratitude. The President of the United States exceeding expectations and showing emotion for the end of the campaign and for Iowa. And I was there, sharing it all with my kids.It will be one of "those" memories.

My dad tells me the story of getting me up and out of bed days before my fifth birthday to watch the television coverage of the July 1969 moon landing. I did that with my kids last night.

Along with all of the obvious huge moments, I will forever remember what happened before The Boss, the FLOTUS, and the POTUS... During "the wait" was "the taped music."  We'd tapped our toes to stay warm, bouncing to the beat of the music... and then, Al Greene..."Let's Stay Together."  Even if we didn't know the words, we quietly hummed along. The crowd swayed to the music and for me, it was a sense that regardless of what the final turnout is today, or tomorrow, or the day after that... we are all Americans... when times are good or bad, happy or sad.

An extraordinary moment in an evening full of extraordinary moments.

Santos

Last week, a friend shared that the overnight rains had brought the Santos from heaven and she dreamed of loved ones who had passed on. I had never heard of such a thing and was immediately fascinated.

Maybe it is because we've had rain lately and maybe it is the time of year, but memories of a dear friend have been with me these last few days. He will forever be 35. And someday when I'm far older than I am today, the fact that he is 35 when I am 80 will bring a bittersweet smile to my face.

What is it about the spirits that hover close at different times in our lives? Maybe it is when their birthday rolls around or the anniversary of their death. I don't always remember dates but I remember favorite writers, movies...songs... I find that friends I've met since their passing have similar traits and mannerisms, too. I can have a moment where a particular line of conversation can be eerily familiar.

I enjoy spending a little time with the memories and the more I sit with them, the more memories come back. A little melancholy, a lot of smiles. At times, that veil between this world and the next is even more thin than usual. As time goes on, I don't feel the physical presence as much as I used to, but certainly an emotional connection.

This week, I was honored to share memories with other friends whose lives have been changed by the loss of loved ones too young to leave this world. I am in awe of those who find a way to keep living after such tragedy.

My memories are bittersweet, and I am grateful. For those whose memories are still too tender, too painful for words, I can hold you in the light.

For all the saints, who from their labors rest...