Think Potential, Not Penitence

"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives...not looking for flaws, but for potential." - Ellen Goodman

New Year's resolutions remind me of things my friends would give up for Lent. We could resist chocolate for 40 days, but could hardly wait for the chocolate bunny in the basket. About New Year's, Mark Twain said, "Now is the time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week, you can begin paving hell with them as usual."

My resolutions this year are to be more present and to appreciate more of the simple joys that I experience every day. I will continue my resolution to be better to myself than I have been, caring for my inner child as if she were my own daughter. I also resolve to let people that I love and care about know that I care about them, regularly, frequently, hourly if needed.

Here's a toast to the journey with all its twists and turns. The challenges and the pain and the joy that surprises us when we least expect it. From the bittersweet moments of watching children grow up before our eyes, and seeing our older loved ones changing, those of us in the middle of our journey seem to be pulling more of our load these days than we did 20 years ago. If for those reasons alone, we should resolve to be our own best friends and stop being so hard on ourselves. Let's resolve to set down the baggage we've been carrying around and unload the 800-pound gorilla from our back and continue on without them. I wish you the peace that will certainly come from leaving all that behind.

Lots of people make predictions for the year to come. I don't know what's ahead and wouldn't dare to venture a guess. What I know for sure is that it will be different than it is today and I'm staying open to what comes next. I wish for you all the promise that a New Year can bring, with no regrets.

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each New Year find you a better man." - Benjamin Franklin

Hospital Hospitality

http://http://toddlinden.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-spirit.html

Not hard to see why these words are spelled similarly when you read this. I'm proud to be an employee of Grinnell Regional Medical Center.

Children of the Heavenly Father

The power of music is potent, particularly in a worship setting,
particularly on Christmas Eve. There are few who don't get through a
Christmas Eve service without a catch in their throat as the
congregation sings "Silent Night," especially in a sanctuary with only
the glow of candlelight. I'm certainly one of those people and I try
to harmonize in an effort to keep from getting too blubbery and
embarassing myself.

This year, there was a new song in the Christmas Eve line-up. It's
not a carol, but a Swedish cradle song that is nearly guaranteed to
bring any grown man raised in a Swedish community to tears.

"Children of the Heavenly Father" is a sweet and lovely lullaby that is
traditionally heard at Swedish funerals in these parts. When the
small family group rose to sing this song as the service started,
I knew I was in trouble. I held my own with only my chin
trembling, until they sang the last verse... in Swedish. That was it.
The tears flowed and it was so beautiful. The family who sang are
people my family has known for generations.

The song speaks to the children of God who are lovingly cared for as a
father loves his children. It is a beautiful song that is comforting
to those who mourn and hearing it at Christmas was a way to hear the
words in a new context. The realiziation that we are children of God,
just as Jesus is a child of God.

For a short time, I worked for a Lutheran nonprofit organization,
Bethphage Mission. The original mission was started by Lutheran women
in Axtell, Nebraska, who dedicated their lives to ministry in a way
similar to Catholic nuns. They provided a home for children and
adults with developmental disabilities. I remember a story told to me
by the chaplain there, who being new to the community, found a new
hymn to sing during a chapel service. He was surprised when most of
the residents and the sisters wept openly through the hymn. The
pastor, of German American heritage, was distressed as well and asked
one of the sisters what had happened after the service was over. She
lovingly explained to him that the only time many of the residents had
ever heard "Children of the Heavenly Father" was when someone had
died.

My uncle Riley, grew up in the Augustana Lutheran Church and joined
the Episcopal Church as an adult. When he died in his late 60's, the
priest of the Anglo-Catholic parish he was a member of, presided over
a dramatic requiem mass that Riley would have loved. For us, it was
foreign territory and as family, it felt a little like the rest of the
congregation was having the healing experience we were looking for.
That is, until the organist began to play, "Children of the Heavenly
Father." That's when our catharsis began. Many Swedish Americans
will half jokingly tell you that it isn't a funeral until they play
that song.

For many Swedish families, Christmas Eve service at midnight is the
pinnacle of the holiday. It was the night my family spent with my
Swedish grandparents having meatballs, herring, and a Swedish custardy
cheesecake known as ostkaka. Those spirits of Christmases past seem
to hover closely on Christmas Eve. Their presence is as strong as our
melancholy can be. Hearing this beloved cradle song at church that night brought them to
the place where we were on the most holy night of all.

Hijacked by God

I've been contemplating getting into formal ministry since I was 15. Something else always came up and I told myself that God needed good lay people as much as clergy.

Since October, I've been the interim Christian Education coordinator at our church. For years, I have done pulpit supply, written and edited the monthly newsletter, served on every board, lead as moderator - even through a successful open & affirming process, and lovingly dubbed as "the pope." But this is only the second time I've ever been paid by the church to do a job. The first time was as the nursery attendant when I was in the fifth grade.

I took on this CE role in the hopes that some wonderful person would emerge from the search process and feel called to be the permenant director. With two children in the program, I have a vested interest. I offered to do it for three months since we had planned on having a new person in the job in January.

My full-time job even cooperated to allow me to work 36 hours a week for the time being so that I could spend an afternoon at the church. But without a real Sabbath day, I was getting burned out. Last Sunday, I had my speech ready to tell the pastor and the CE board chair that I was tired and would not be able to continue into January.

And then, I was hijacked. God used people in my job to find a way so that I had no choice but to apply for the 20 hour job and go part time in my "real" job. If you were in church this past week or following along at home, you may recall Isaiah admonishing us that we do not know the time, or the place, but we must be ready. God has opened the door of the airplane at 10,000 feet and has shoved me out with the parachute and has said, "Finally! I've been trying to get you to fly since you were 15!"

The first 24 hours were terrifying. But I am constantly reminded of the times that I have taken a small step from my comfort zone, God has provided for me. Another step, God is there. It's still scary, but it is starting to feel pretty good. Advent is about waiting, about preparing, about hope and about what is to come. Advent just got very interesting.

Micky's, Burgers, and Hawkeye Basketball

I had a date last night with my favorite Hawk fan, my 10-year-old son, John. It was the home-opener for the Iowa men's basketball team and I decided we should go.

He's pretty proud of the fact that every Iowa game he's attended, football or basketball, the team has won. He considers it his personal responsibility to provide his good luck and charm to the game. And, he is pretty charming.

As important as the game, is the pre-game tradition of going to Micky's Irish Pub in Iowa City. I'm old enough now that my college hang-out has a children's menu. Maybe they always did and I was just never there early enough for kids? It is a little surreal to be having burgers with my ten-year-old son in a place with entirely different memories. I do like it though.

We carry on the tradition set out by Grandpa Phil, putting a hex on the other team's players as they stand at the free-throw line. I can hear him cackling when the ball chunks off the rim and doesn't make it. I can hear him sing along to "On Iowa" and announcing on fall Saturday mornings that it's "GAME DAY!" He and Johnny would have a lot of fun together. And somewhere in whatever his heaven may be, he is enjoying this next generation of Hawk fan.

"Two are better than one...for if they fall, one will lift up the other." - Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

This past week, I have been privileged to be a part of a series of events honoring and remembering our nation's veterans, particularly our veterans of World War II.

Over the year, I have been a part of Grinnell's Community Education Council that took on the idea of commemorating our WWII veterans this year. I was not a part of the task force that did the heavy lifting for the planning of this week of activities, but attended the activities as I could.

It was a humbling and emotional experience.

On Tuesday, another woman on the council who is a contemporary of mine and I pinned small red, white, and blue ribbons on any veteran who came to the community's annual Veteran's Day Ceremony. A small group of the high school band played patriotic music and marches as people filed in. Neither of us were prepared for the rush of emotions we felt simply asking men and women if they were veterans. To be honest, it was all I could do to choke out the question. And they were so proud of this small little token that they thanked me. They thanked me, when the whole purpose was to thank them.

One veteran in particular looked to be fifty-something. He wasn't expecting me to ask him if he was a veteran and I offered to pin the ribbon on his sweatshirt that read, "United States Marine Corps." He smiled broadly, and said he was. There was a sense that he might not have felt that kind of gratitude for what he had done before.

After the ceremony was over, and I was one of the last few out the door, the veteran was standing outside the building in the rain. And he made a point of thanking me again for what I had done for him. I said, "No, thank you for what you have done for me."

On Friendship

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the human spirit." - Albert Schweitzer

I am so fortunate to have people like this in my life. They may or may not be the people I encounter in my daily life. They may or may not be people I know. I've been inspired by the stories of those who meet incredible challenges and help me to put my own into perspective. Or they are those individuals that beat the odds to achieve a dream.

There are those people who know me well, who sing my song to me when I have forgotten the tune. I sing with a women's a capella quartet. We get our starting note from a pitch pipe and then our leader hums our note for us up the chord. Each of us has to know our note, to sing our own part of the song for the harmony to happen. If one of us is slightly off, sharp or flat, the harmony isn't there and its not quite right. The feeling of disharmony is uncomfortable.

In order for harmony to work, we must sing different notes and sing them out to support the others. If we all sang the same tune, its a nice unison, but it isn't quite as beautiful and doesn't have the depth of each of us singing our own part of the harmony.

Isn't that interesting? In order for this incredible human sound to occur, we have to be strong in our individuality, to sing our own song.

There are many I have encountered in my life that rekindle that human spirit in me. Some are no more than passing strangers. Others are tightly woven in the daily threads of my life. And there are others who dwell in my spirit. There are those who have enriched me beyond explanation and words. Today we celebrated All Saint's Day, giving thanks and memory to those who have gone before us. I have many saints in my life and I am so very grateful for every one of them.