Paradox

My mother passed away today.

At 12:20pm, with my dad by her side, her labored breathing ceased, and God spared her yet another second of pain. I had been by her side, in her bedroom, only minutes earlier, stroking her arm, pressing a cold, wet wash cloth to her forehead, telling her how much I loved her and assuring her that God loves her too. That it was OK to go.

These last few days have made it clear that her time was coming, that she was eager for it to come. "I don't understand why it's taking so long," she said to me on Sunday afternoon. Earlier, she recounted to me and my dad a conversation she'd had with my youngest brother a couple weeks ago, when she said she had lived a full life and she was ready to go. She wanted to be sure we weren't doing anything to prolong her life. We assured her that we weren't; we were only doing what we could to make her as comfortable as possible.

Hospice is an amazing organization. What a blessing.

So this afternoon, as I was unloading the dishwasher in my parents' kitchen, my mother's life ended. This particular chapter of it, anyway. And I am amazed, even though I've heard about this from so many others, by the overwhelming peace and relief I'm experiencing in the midst of the profound sadness. It is one of so many paradoxes that comes with saying goodbye to someone who wasn't really here anymore anyway.

God bless you, Mom. I love you so much, and so does God.

Here is Mom's obituary, drafted by my brother Vern, which will appear in tomorrow's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Pittsburgh Tribune Review, and the Washington Observer:

Janet Fulton Maczuzak (nee Hamilton), of North Huntingdon Township, Westmoreland County, Pa., died at home on Tuesday, October 17, 2006 due to complications associated with pancreatic cancer. She was 64 years old.

A loving wife and mother, Mrs. Maczuzak dedicated her life to the comfort and well-being of her family. Born October 24, 1941 in Washington, Pa., to the late David and Frances Hamilton, she was a native of western Pennsylvania, always returning here from living also in suburban Philadelphia, Cleveland, and South Bend, Ind. Mrs. Maczuzak was active in several Presbyterian church congregations and choirs, and was a member of the Sweet Adelines International singing group, most recently of the River Bend Chapter in northern Indiana.

She is survived by her husband of 42 years, John A. Maczuzak, and was the loving mother of Amy of Pittsburgh, John David of North Huntingdon, and Vern of New York, NY; and the devoted grandmother to Kathryn “Katy” Maczuzak. She is also survived by one brother, John Hamilton and his wife Ginny, of Eighty-Four, Pa., and several brothers- and sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews.

Family and friends are invited to call on Thursday, October 19 from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. and on Friday, October 20 from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at the James W. Shirley Funeral Home, Inc., 176 Clay Pike, North Huntingdon. Her funeral service and interment will be held on Saturday, October 21 at 10:00 a.m. at Pigeon Creek Presbyterian Church, 45 Church Road, Eighty Four, Pa. (Please come directly to the church on Saturday morning.)

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made in her memory to Family Hospice and Palliative Care. http://www.familyhospice.com/donations.htm

40 years

Today is my 40th birthday.

I tried to keep a daily journal for the last month of my 30s (which, arguably, would also be the last month of my 40th year, but I digress). It didn’t work out so well, at least not as a daily exercise. It did get me to write more than I would have otherwise. Given the circumstances of my life, which has been focused around my mom’s illness for months, that’s something.

In the midst of the darkness of this season of life, which has nothing to do with my age and everything to do with watching my mom suffer the pain and fear of cancer, God continues to remind me that I am his beloved. He does it through friends, whose calls and visits and notes and hugs are treasures more valuable than I can express. Thank you all.

And here’s another way He has reminded me—through an email message received on my 40th birthday from a stranger. Here’s just a brief excerpt of today’s devotional from the Purpose Driven Life website, “Only one you” by John Fischer:

…think about the things you have gone through so far in your life — especially the difficult or challenging things where God has met you with his faith. That information is not just for you, it’s for you to empathize with and encourage others who have encountered similar struggles.

God isn’t messing around here. There are no accidents with our lives. Whatever we have received and experienced has shaped who we are, and because of that, we are qualified. There is truly no one else like you…for a reason.

I’m grateful for the first 40 years of my life, and I pray that, with God’s help, the next several decades will be full of meaning and purpose. Even if it’s hard to recognize at the time.

Dramas

I realize that it's been a while since my last post, so I thought I'd add to my long-neglected blog the latest update I sent to family members this morning about progress with my mom's health. It's been a roller-coaster summer, but I guess that's to be expected, given the circumstances.

I'm on vacation this week, which has been very relaxing. A quick weekend get-away with my friend Lisa (to Dublin, Ohio for an Irish Festival), followed by lots of time with my mom and dad...just permission to not think about deadlines for a whole week: heaven!

I woke this morning to news of the latest terrorist plot disrupted (please God) and was reminded of how many dramas, on every imaginable scale, are being acted out minute-by-minute. Perspective is good.

Anyway, here's the latest in my own personal drama:

It's been a couple eventful weeks since my last update...The visit from [my youngest brother] Vern didn't turn out quite as expected, as Mom was admitted to the hospital the day he arrived (Wed., July 26) and was finally discharged the day he left (Mon., July 31). We spent a lot of quality time in her hospital room, though, and things have improved considerably since then.

Mom was admitted because of dehydration, low appetite, nausea, and lack of energy. We were attributing all of this to the chemo/cancer, but it turns out that the real culprit was one of her heart medications—she had three times the amount of dygoxin in her system than she should have. (Since her valve repair surgery over a year ago, she's been taking this to control her heart rate.)

Now that this has been taken care of, she's been like a new woman. Still some pain, but much more energy, appetite, etc. The doctors suspended her chemo treatments as a result, and she just started a new cycle today. After two more treatments (next week and the week after), they'll finally do the CT scan we've been waiting for so that we can see how the chemo has been working.

Thank you all so much for your love and prayers. The notes and cards really help Mom—and all of us.

Miracles

"Sometimes in small ordinary ways we experience the presence of God, as in the ability to get out of bed in the morning and keep our children alive. Other times we know for certain in the way a particular thing has fallen out, by its timing and our lack of control over it, that we've witnessed an unusual gift of grace. A miracle really, though we hesitate to call it that."
—Margie Haack, from Notes from Toad Hall (Issue #1 — 2006; Still Winter)

I read this the other day, just before I found out the very hard news that my mom's tumor did not, in fact, shrink as a result of the radiation treatments she endured. Surgery is no longer an option, and new "shadows" were detected via the CT scan, on both her liver and lungs. Since radiation obviously is also no longer an option, she starts chemo again tomorrow. She is exhausted, she is in pain, and she is losing weight.

And we live one day at a time, hour by hour, trusting that God's grace is sufficient.

This past week, I've been recognizing my utter dependence on God in a profound way. This is not a new revelation, but it is something that I can too easily forget when things are going well. Now I am treasuring every breath—the ability to get out of bed and do what needs to be done. I am grateful for the gift of laughter, and even for the tears.

Lots of tears lately, but also lots of love.

I am a beloved daughter of God, and He is showering me with reminders from others that this is true. That this is true for my mom as well. I pray that she feels it as tangibly as I do at this moment, through the notes and phone calls and hugs. And I pray for my dad and my brothers and my niece, and for all the people who love Mom and the rest of us.

I was writing in my journal last night that I feel like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, in the final scene, when his brother toasts him as "the richest man in town."

One friend shows up with a mocha and a hug.

Others, who are hundreds of miles away, assure me that the minute I ask, they'll jump in a car or a plane and make their way to my side.

Many offer prayers and tears and encouragement and funny stories.

One tells me, even as tears are streaming down my cheeks, that I'm having a great hair day. This makes me laugh. Another hears the news and figures out why it is I've been on her mind so much lately, and why she's been so sad. This makes me cry.

I've been prayed for by people I've known for a few months and by people I've known most of my life—and even by someone I knew, very briefly, a long time ago, and with whom I only recently reconnected.

I call all of these things miracles, and I can boldly pray for more—for comfort, for healing, for strength, for peace. For life everlasting.

Let nothing disturb thee. Let nothing frighten thee. Everything is changing. God alone is changeless. Patience attains the goal. The one who has God lacks nothing. God alone fills all our needs. —St. Teresa of Avila

A Groovy Announcement

Just thought I'd check in with a quick post to encourage you to check out my friend Sheryl's big announcement. A unique and appropriate way to celebrate one's 35th birthday...

Resurrection Sunday

Now that those of you who read my blog and also are on my mailing list have likely received my April newsletter, I guess it's safe to post it here. I've hinted a bit in previous blog entries about difficult things happening. This explains further.

A blessed Easter to all! —alm
----------------------------

When I attended Ash Wednesday services a few weeks ago, I was reeling from the news that my mother had just been diagnosed with cancer. A “shadow” detected on her pancreas in early February turned out, in fact, to be a cancerous tumor.

As I write this letter, Mom is beginning her second week of radiation and chemotherapy treatments, and her prognosis is much better than we first feared. She will undergo surgery sometime this summer, after this round of treatment shrinks the tumor. But her doctors report that the cancer has not spread beyond her pancreas. They caught it early. Praise God!

This reminder of my (and my mother’s) mortality has rested heavily over me during this Lenten season, even as I have continued to go about my daily work and life. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. I remember. It’s been hard to forget.

Even so, life has indeed continued. I’ve spent the first months of 2006 writing, editing, worshiping, eating, reading, watching TV, drinking coffee, attending my 20-somethingth Jubilee conference, spending time with friends and family, and cheering Pitt’s basketball team to victory (and defeat).

I’ve traveled to the Washington, DC area twice in as many months, to interview the two new CCO staff people who are reaching out to college students at Howard University and George Mason University (whose basketball team fared much better than my beloved Pitt Panthers in the NCAA Tournament, by the way!). Their stories will appear in upcoming issues of the CCO’s On Campus magazine.

I combined the GMU trip with a visit with my friend Jeff and his family in the DC area last week (after more than a decade of promising to do so “someday”), and I went bowling for the first time in many years with Ann and Terri a couple weeks back—and even managed a couple spares and a strike between gutter balls! I have gathered with good friends to pray for my mom’s complete healing.

I look forward to celebrating the Resurrection once again this year, rejoicing and resting in the promise of eternal life assured by my faith in Jesus Christ. God is good—all the time. Thank you for the many ways you continue to demonstrate this reality for me.

Happy Easter!

Third Incarnation

I just had an article published in catapult magazine! The theme of this issue is "Wonder Years: Reflections on our memories from our teen years and the nature of being a teen-ager today."

I offered up a revised version of my essay about my 20th high school reunion, which was first published by the CCO's now-defunct Ministry Exchange, and then later posted here. I'm glad for the opportunity to share it with a broader audience.

I know my blogging volume has been on the low-to-nonexistent end lately. Themes from Amy's Lenten season 2006: mortality, brokenness, hope and trust. I'll try to flesh out these themes at a later date, but suffice to say, I've not felt compelled to send them into the blogosphere yet.

Meanwhile: I'm alive, I'm well, I'm hopeful, and I'm hanging onto the promise of the Resurrection. God is good — all the time.

Spring is here!

And it's supposed to snow tomorrow. Go figure.

I know I haven't been around in the blogosphere lately...on the writing side, at least. I have been reading blogs, though. Occasionally.

I heard this commentary on NPR's All Things Considered this past Friday. I thought my blogging friends might find it as amusing as I did. (I'm just grateful it prompted me to post something new in this blog, as it's been close to a month since the last entry...)

I'll try to post more frequent, and more original, entries soon. Really.

Snapshots of Jubilee

There is more going in my life this week than Jubilee anticipation, contrary to what the blog might indicate. However, it's premature to write about the other "stuff" that's happening, and I really do want to be focused on the coming weekend.

I'm excited to see old friends, and the seminars this year are amazing — it's going to be difficult to choose. I'm particularly eager to greet my new friends from Howard University — I was in Washington, DC this past Friday, along with a photographer, to start gathering information for the fall issue of the CCO's On Campus magazine. It was my first visit to an HBCU (Historically Black College or University), and it was truly inspiring to meet these amazing students and to get glimpses of what God is doing in their midst. As we parted ways on Friday evening, the typical farewell was, "See you next week at Jubilee!" None of these students (or their staff person, Carlous Price) have attended Jubilee before, and I'm praying that theirs is a wonderful experience.

On that note, I'll share some of my Jubilee memories here. I wrote this article in February 2004. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------

Snapshots of Jubilee

February 22, 1985
"Wait until you see the view!"

We had been crammed into a 15-passenger van for close to two hours and had just merged from I-79 South onto 279 North, toward downtown Pittsburgh. (These were the Dark Ages of the 1980s, in the days before 279 extended north from downtown to Wexford.) As we approached the Fort Pitt Tunnel, our anticipation hit its peak. Throughout the relatively brief journey from Meadville to Pittsburgh, those upperclass students — who had been talking nonstop about something called "Jubilee" since I'd started my freshman year at Allegheny College back in September — continued to prime the pump.

They were right. The nighttime vista of downtown Pittsburgh is breathtaking when it bursts forth as you emerge from that long tunnel. But that was nothing compared to the controlled chaos that greeted this overwhelmed freshman when she stepped through the lobby doors of the Pittsburgh Hilton.

I paid $65 to attend the conference and stay at the Hilton for the weekend. Having grown up in the surrounding suburbs, downtown Pittsburgh was an exotic land to me — completely unfamiliar and a little bit frightening. (Close to 20 years later, I live six miles from downtown Pittsburgh, and my point of reference — downtown's "true north" — continues to be the Hilton.)

Os Guinness was the keynote speaker. I'd never heard of him, but I remember being impressed by his British accent. The microscopic print in the Jubilee 1985 brochure reminds me that he spoke on the theme of "Mission Impossible? — Christian Calling and the Challenge of Modernity." Huh? (That's the freshman me talking there.)

(I imagine we could invite Dr. Guinness back at any moment to talk on almost the same topic…how about "Christian Calling and the Challenge of Postmodernity"?)

For lack of a more relevant Saturday afternoon seminar, I attended Ken Heffner's journalism workshop. I wasn't convinced that I wanted to be a journalist, but as an undeclared English major, this seemed to me a better fit than applied sciences, business, or politics. (This was also back in the days before "Track One" and "Track Two"; it was all Track Two material then — The Christian in the University.)

I remember squeezing through the crush of people on the mezzanine level of the hotel, waiting what felt like hours for an elevator to my room, dining at McDonald's, and recognizing Becky and Patty — both girls I'd gone to high school with, who were now students at Grove City and Thiel College, respectively. We waved to each other as the current of the crowd carried us off in different directions. I searched frantically for another familiar face.

I can sum up my first-ever Jubilee experience in one word: overwhelming. Several years later, when I was working for the CCO at Gannon University, I unearthed my Jubilee '85 notes and was surprised how thorough and coherent they were, considering how clueless I remember feeling at the time.

February 21, 1986
Back to the Pittsburgh Hilton. This time, I was the one prepping clueless freshmen about the amazing nighttime view of downtown Pittsburgh from the mouth of the Fort Pitt Tunnel. Dr. Anthony Campolo was making his second Jubilee appearance (not that I knew this at the time), and like Os Guinness, I'd never heard of him. He spoke on the theme, "The Kingdom of God and the Lordship of Christ." He didn't have a British accent, but he was really, really funny. Mark Heard provided the entertainment. I'd never heard of him either.

And that's all I remember about that.

February 26, 1988
This was my senior year and my fourth consecutive Jubilee conference. An Ocean City Beach Project '87 reunion. Conversations with Ellie Pruner (soon-to-be Davis) about coming on CCO staff as an intern. Bill Romanowski's farewell "The Heart of Rock and Roll" concert. Bad '80s hair (and I have the pictures to prove it). The student cost to both attend the conference and stay at the Hilton had increased to $70.

This was my best Jubilee conference ever, up to that point — not because of any earth-shattering keynote address or seminar, but because of relationships and connections I'd nurtured over three and a half years. This was a major contrast to my feelings of "lostness" at Jubilee '85. Now I belonged. Serious adrenalin high. I didn't want to leave.

February 28, 1988
Serious adrenalin crash.

Back in my student-slum apartment in Meadville, alone, I watched the closing ceremonies of the 1988 Winter Olympic Games and cried.

February 2004
I'll spare you the blow-by-blow of the 15 Jubilees I've attended as a CCO staff person. That's both for your sake and my own. I used to be able to recite the keynote speakers for each year by memory, but I lost that ability almost a decade ago. I'm now twice the age of the freshmen and sophomores who will attend Jubilee 2004, and I haven't missed a single conference since 1985. This will be my 20th.

As I help prepare for Jubilee 2004 (the program booklet is almost ready to go to the printer), I'm looking forward to the conference this year as much as ever. I never stop learning from the speakers or reveling in the singing and the worship and the contagious excitement that permeates the Hilton every year on the last weekend of February.

On Sunday morning, February 29th, yet another generation of college students will be cordially invited to become active participants in God's Kingdom work — right now, on their campuses, and throughout the rest of their lives.

And as I do every year, I will thank God (with Paul, in Philippians 1:6) that he who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

This article was originally published in February 2004. Copyright Coalition for Christian Outreach, 2004.

Jubilee or bust!

I love Jubilee.

I attended my first Jubilee conference in 1985, as a college freshman, and I haven't missed one yet. Every year for more than two decades now, I show up at the Hilton Pittsburgh at the end of February and enjoy the energy of hundreds of college students, many generations of them now, who gather to learn about why it matters that they follow Christ and how it can and should infiltrate every single part of their lives. The focus of Jubilee is to help college students get a handle on how faith in Jesus Christ should be lived out through their particular fields of study, and ultimately, their vocational choices.

My friend and colleague, Byron Borger, owner with his wife Beth of Hearts and Minds Bookstore in Dallastown, Pennsylvania, describes the conference and its purpose quite eloquently in his most recent blog entry. I found it inspiring to read his late night/early morning ruminations about this annual event, even while preparing to set up shop (literally) at the Pittsburgh Hilton this weekend.

And now, as I look forward to reunions with old friends, meeting new ones, and learning more about how to be faithful in my life and work (and how to encourage others to do likewise), I'm off to join the volunteer pool stuffing registration packets.

Jubilee ho!

The Faithful Alligator

Finally!

A good friend of many, many years, who is an amazing writer and a very funny person (we'll call her "tomzgrrl"), finally has her own blog. Check out The Faithful Alligator and enjoy.

Only one entry so far. I'm eagerly awaiting the ongoing chronicling of The Adventures of The Faithful Alligator, The Princess, The Dictator and...um...The Dad?

The Pittsburgh Steelers win Super Bowl XL!

Now here's a CNN Breaking News announcement I was happy to receive:

From: CNN Breaking News
Sent: Sunday, February 05, 2006 10:07 PM

-- The Pittsburgh Steelers win Super Bowl XL, beating the Seattle Seahawks 21-10 Sunday night.

What a great night! I attended a Superbowl party at my parents' house, along with my brother and niece, my uncle, aunt and cousins, and my friend Lisa and her family.

I was 13 the last time the Steelers won a Superbowl, and living in eastern Pennsylvania, where the Philadelphia Eagles rule. And I could have cared less about football.

What a fun time to live in the city of Pittsburgh. Go Steelers!

More Breaking News

Back in September, I wrote a blog entry marveling at the range of news items that make the cut for CNN's Breaking News email messages.

Three have already popped into my inbox this morning (which is three more than I tend to receive on any given day). Just thought I'd share.

From: CNN Breaking News
Sent: Tuesday, January 31, 2006 7:03 AM
-- Female ex-employee kills six people, self, in shooting at postal sorting offices in Goleta, California, authorities say.

Sent: Tuesday, January 31, 2006 7:31 AM
-- Coretta Scott King, wife of slain civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr., has died, a PR company for the King family says.

Sent: Tuesday, January 31, 2006 8:54 AM
-- "Brokeback Mountain" leads Academy Awards field with eight nominations, including best picture

The Wall

As I got dressed this morning, I listened to Scott Simon on NPR's Weekend Edition Saturday, as I try to every Saturday morning when I'm home. The final interview, which aired just before 10 a.m., was with Rosanne Cash, about her new CD, Black Cadillac. She wrote the songs for this release during the two-year period during which her father, mother and step-mother all died.

I like Rosanne Cash's music, and I think I'll probably purchase this CD. Beyond that, though, I found myself moved by the conversation. The real emotion, the lingering grief that she clearly feels...by the end of the piece, I was crying.

There was this insight, from Rosanne:

"It's an odd feeling to become the wall between death and the generation behind you, between my children, you know... It's comforting to feel the wall ahead of you, with your parents, and when they're gone and you're the wall..."

Then the piece closes with a recording of Johnny Cash's voice, saying, "Roseanne, Roseanne..." and Roseanne's child's voice responding, "Bye, bye, bye."

I saw the movie I Walk the Line on Thanksgiving Day, with Myrna, during my Utah visit a couple months ago. I always associate Johnny Cash with my dad, and my childhood, and Myrna even commented to me, before knowing this, that she's always thought my dad looks a little like Johnny Cash.

I'm grateful that my parents are still The Wall. May that continue to be so for many years to come.

Here we go!

Pittsburgh's going to Superbowl XL*!

*That's 40, which is almost the number of years it's taken for me to become a football fan. Who knew?

Go Steelers!

New Life

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my
mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” —Psalm 139:13-14

It was a dark and stormy Wednesday afternoon.

The date was January the eleventh.

The time was 2:30.

I was sitting at my office desk, catching up on some paperwork, having just returned from a meeting at Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, where I was making arrangements for the Coalition’s two-week Spring Institute in May.

My phone rang.

It was my brother John calling to tell me that he and his wife Chris were at the hospital. It was two weeks before her due date, but after months of mandatory bed-rest and what had been a difficult (and seemingly eternal) pregnancy, Chris was finally going to have this baby!

“The doctor says it could be a long night,” John told me. They had broken her water, but it could be 12 to 14 hours before the baby would be born. “Can you call Dave and tell him what’s happening?” Did he want me to bring anything? “A camera!” they’d experienced so many false alarms, it hadn’t occurred to either of them to take a camera when they left for Chris’ doctor appointment that day.

No problem. I called my cousin Dave, who was working at home in Shadyside that day, just a couple of miles from my apartment. I needed to take care of a few things before leaving the office, but arranged to take the next day off. Dave and I decided to meet at my place at 4:30, at which point he would follow me to Forbes Regional Hospital in Monroeville (where just a little more than a month before, my friend Lisa had given birth to her second son, Christopher). Mom and Dad had been notified and were preparing to drive in from Cleveland that evening. We were all prepared for an all-night vigil.

John had given me specific directions on how to find him and Chris once we arrived at the hospital. Delivery room 7, all the way down the corridor, last door on the right. Dave and I, clutching dripping umbrellas, having survived a rainy Pittsburgh rush-hour, managed to navigate ourselves to what we thought was the correct destination. By now it was a little after 5:30.

In the front door. Take a left. Down this hallway.

Here we are: labor & delivery, 7.

Voices, bodies, activity. The cry of a baby. From 7?

Dave and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised. A nurse turned and saw us; she pulled a curtain shut—not that we’d seen anything aside from a cluster of people’s backs blocking our view of the bed. I strained to recognize a voice…John’s? Chris’?

“It’s a girl…” The doctor?

Then, Chris’ voice, then John’s. I don’t remember what either of them said, just that it registered that we weren’t standing outside the wrong delivery room.

I turned to Dave. “I have a niece,” I said.

The nurse who had pulled the curtain came into the hallway and asked if she could help us. I identified myself as John’s sister; she smiled and pointed us in the direction of the waiting room. Dave and I headed back up the long corridor, bypassed the waiting room, turned around to backtrack and saw John walking toward us.

As we got closer, I saw that my brother was crying.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”

And then John and I shared the longest hug in our 25-plus years of siblinghood.

***

Kathryn Noel turned 11 years old today (11 on the eleventh), a rainy January Wednesday, very similar to the day she came into the world. I just returned home from her birthday dinner in Monroeville, the city of her birth, at the Shogun Japanese Steakhouse, site of our family’s habitual birthday celebrations.

I wrote the above in April 1995, just three months after Katy was born, and sent it out to friends and family with an Easter card. Here’s how I closed the letter:

***

Have you ever thought about how amazing it is that an event like childbirth is so commonplace and yet so miraculous? As exciting as it is to hold any newborn, how much moreso it must be when that baby is your own offspring. The closest I’ve come to this experience is holding my first [and so far, only] niece, little Katy, when she was less than thirty minutes old.

This Easter, as I celebrate the miracle of the resurrection of Jesus the Christ, I’ll also be celebrating the miracle of every new life, and especially the new life of Katy Noel.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” —1 John 3:1

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Hallelujah!

***

Happy birthday, Katy Noel.

A Time Between

For the past couple of months, I have been working on a project with a few of my fellow CCO staff, headed up by my colleague Jennifer Rash.

During her recent (and current) sabbatical, Jennifer was inspired to invite interested colleagues to work with her to produce a devotional booklet covering the period between Easter and Advent, appropriately titled A Time Between. Working with the Revised Common Lectionary, each of us were assigned a few weeks' readings upon which to reflect and write.

One of my assigned weeks was July 30, 2006, the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. (Ordinary Time. I love that.) The passages all have to do with God's extraordinary provision, and while the Matthew 25 passage about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and visiting the imprisoned was not among that day's readings, it kept popping into my mind, and therefore, found its way into my draft of that day's reflection.

I just received an email from my cousin John today, in which he offers a new perspective on that same passage:

The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit. —St. Basil

This theme keeps cropping up for me. I suspect there's a reason for that.

In this season of New Year's resolutions (of which I've made none, at least not formally), it seems fitting to contemplate the power of these words. And to start living like I believe them.