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.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
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!
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!
Thursday, February 9, 2006
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?
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?
Monday, February 6, 2006
The Pittsburgh Steelers win Super Bowl XL!
Now here's a CNN Breaking News announcement I was happy to receive:
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!
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!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
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.
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
Saturday, January 28, 2006
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:
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.
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.
Monday, January 23, 2006
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!
*That's 40, which is almost the number of years it's taken for me to become a football fan. Who knew?
Go Steelers!
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
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.
Thursday, January 5, 2006
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:
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.
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. BasilThis 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.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Drinking the Cup of Life
The discipline of silence, word, and action focus our eyes on the road we are traveling and help us to move forward, step by step, to our goal. We will encounter great obstacles and splendid views, long, dry deserts and also freshwater lakes surrounded by shadow-rich trees. We will have to fight against those who try to attack and rob us. We also will make wonderful friends. We will often wonder if we will ever make it, but one day we will see coming to us the One who has been waiting for us from all eternity to welcome us home. Yes, we can drink our cup of life to the bottom, and as we drink it realize that the One who has called us "the beloved," even before we were born, if filling it with everlasting life. —Henri J. M. Nouwen, from Can You Drink the Cup?
My colleague, Lindsey Smyth, included this quote with her Christmas cards this year, and I found it both moving and inspiring.
I pray that we all may "drink our cup of life to the bottom" in the coming year and, as Lindsey writes, "gain an even greater understanding of our 'belovedness' in Christ Jesus, our Lord."
Amen.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Page 123
I'm borrowing this from Michele's blog:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what's actually next to you.
Here's what I found:
"She worked on overcoming her timidity, but discovered eventually she had the gift of serenity." (from Becky Pippert's Out of the Saltshaker & into the World)
So, what did you find?
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what's actually next to you.
Here's what I found:
"She worked on overcoming her timidity, but discovered eventually she had the gift of serenity." (from Becky Pippert's Out of the Saltshaker & into the World)
So, what did you find?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Spiritual Journeys
“The more I tune in to the source of my own being..., the more anger, sorrow, and fear seem confined to the shallows of my personality, while my true self — and yours, and that of every being — is like a sea whose depths are always tranquil, however troubled the surface may become. Pain reminds me to return to the deep, calm, gentle sea, so that I find myself crying because I’m happy, and because I’m sad, but never because I’m in despair. Once you’re sure that God is waiting in the acceptance of every true thing, even pain, I’m not sure despair is even possible.” —Martha Beck, Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith, page 303 (hardcover edition)During my recent visit to Utah, I purchased a book I had been hearing about for a while: Martha Beck's controversial memoir, Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith. I was about half-way through it by the time I was jetting home to Pittsburgh (feeling a little self-conscious about revealing the spine to any passers-by in the Salt Lake City airport), and it took me a while to finish once I got home, what with all the busyness that greeted me on this side of the continent. During our afternoon in Park City, I purchased a copy for Myrna; so many of the insights I was reading — and reading aloud, to her — were eerie echoes of observations she had already made to me about life in Utah Valley, either in person or via her blog.
There is a lot to say about this book, which I may or may not address some other time. I found it a fascinating, entertaining and disturbing read. For those unfamiliar with the book, here is an excerpt of the summary published at amazon.com:
“When graduate student Martha Beck’s son Adam was born with Down syndrome, she and her husband left the chilly halls of Harvard for Utah and the warm, accepting embrace of the Mormon community. Determined to assimilate back into her childhood faith after years of atheism, Beck’s disenchantment resurfaced when censorship from the church heavily influenced the curriculum at Brigham Young University where she taught part-time. More disturbing was Beck’s eventual belief that her father, a virtual celebrity in the Mormon Church, had sexually molested her as a child.”My own interest in Utah and Mormons started a long time ago. I was nine years old when I “fell in love” with Donny Osmond, who was then exactly twice my age. At 8 p.m. every Friday night, I faithfully parked myself (and my clunky tape recorder) in front of our remote-control-less TV set to watch the Donny & Marie show. (During the pre-VCR era of the mid- to late-1970s, I was resourceful!) Often, my friend Lisa — and her tape recorder — were parked right there beside me. And my younger brothers can tell you about the ban on conversation during those hour-long variety shows, lest my recordings be polluted by their commentary. Instead, they were polluted by every loud “SHHH” I uttered each time someone in the room dared to cough, sneeze or — heaven forbid — speak.
Anyway, back to Utah and Mormons.
Any true blue Osmond fan who read as many issues of Tiger Beat and 16 Magazine as I did knew full well that Donny was a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and his future wife would be one, too. My pre-adolescent brain reasoned that Mormonism couldn't be much different than Presbyterianism. I would happily convert, should Donny propose to me.
Of course, this never became an issue. In true Mormon tradition, Donny got married at age 20, breaking many young hearts. I was disappointed, but not heartbroken. Let’s face it: I was only 11 years old. I heard somewhere that many of the fans who were deeply disappointed by Donny’s marriage, and by the marriages of his many brothers, had actually converted to Mormonism. Donny and his singing brothers and sister may have never embarked on the traditional two-year mission that most young men in the LDS church serve, but they did reach thousands with their own testimonies. (For the record, I'm still worshipping in a Presbyterian congregation.)
By the time I started junior high, I was embarrassed to admit my earlier crush on Donny. I didn’t give much thought to him or his religion for many years. It wasn't until 1993, when I took a CCO Spring Institute class in “cults and alternative religions” taught by Dr. Ruth Tucker, that I discovered what Mormons actually believe. My immersion in orthodox Christian theology gave me an actual framework through which to view the doctrines and legalisms of the LDS church. Spending almost a week in Mormon country last month has added new dimensions of understanding and insight, as has reading Martha Beck's memoir, dismissed as fiction by many faithful Mormons.
I'll let any interested parties pick up this book or read the many online reviews (positive and negative, from both LDS members and “Gentiles” alike) for themselves. After finishing the book, I'm curious about how Martha Beck would describe the faith she ultimately “found” after leaving the LDS church. She’s not very specific about it — by design, I suspect — but it certainly seems to be a more grace-filled spirituality than what she left behind.
Wednesday, December 7, 2005
The Gender Genie
OK, this is just weird.
(Oops — I forgot. I apparently shouldn't be using the word is. Or the. Or something. Because those are masculine words. On the other hand, actually, like, because, too and since are feminine words.)
My friend Lisa just sent me this link, which assigns you a gender based on how you write.
As Lisa instructs: "Paste in a blog entry (preferably at least 500 words) and click the submit button. Based on some weird algorithmic formula, it will then tell you if it thinks the blog entry was written by a male or female."
Only once has it correctly identified me as a female. Granted, it claims an 80% success rate, but still. I'm not sure what (if anything) to make of this.
Thoughts?
(Oops — I forgot. I apparently shouldn't be using the word is. Or the. Or something. Because those are masculine words. On the other hand, actually, like, because, too and since are feminine words.)
My friend Lisa just sent me this link, which assigns you a gender based on how you write.
As Lisa instructs: "Paste in a blog entry (preferably at least 500 words) and click the submit button. Based on some weird algorithmic formula, it will then tell you if it thinks the blog entry was written by a male or female."
Only once has it correctly identified me as a female. Granted, it claims an 80% success rate, but still. I'm not sure what (if anything) to make of this.
Thoughts?
Friday, November 25, 2005
A Utah Thanksgiving: Pickles, Duke and the Outlaw Café
It’s 10:30 (MST) on Thanksgiving evening, and Myrna and I just returned from seeing the new movie, I Walk the Line, a biopic of Johnny Cash. We aren’t sure exactly when this movie opened—last weekend, maybe?—but it was packed. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who thought a Thanksgiving movie night was a good idea.
Myrna was still full from our Thanksgiving feast (which we enjoyed with a group of folks from her church) but I decided to indulge in popcorn and cherry Coke. While in the concession line, we noticed the menu: popcorn, candy, nachos, pickles.
Pickles?
Is it just us, or is a pickle that least likely movie snack you can think of? Popcorn? Check. Junior Mints? Check. Chilled, garlicky, preserved cucumbers? Not so much. But the guy two people in front of us actually ordered one, so apparently, it’s popular movie food in Utah. In Provo, anyway. (We’re assuming this item wouldn’t be on the menu if this is the only guy purchasing them.)
I arrived in Salt Lake City late Monday night—sadly, my luggage did not. Myrna greeted me at baggage claim, where we left information with the nice lady who deals with lost luggage, then headed to Denny’s for a midnight snack (for me, anyway—it was only 10 here, but literally midnight where I came from).
Tuesday, Myrna went to work while I slept in; later, we took a drive into Provo Canyon—looked for Robert Redford at Sundance Resort (no sightings). We drove north to Salt Lake City again—went in search of the actual lake (which we found, but right at dusk, so not much to look at). We found our way to our ultimate destination: the Sugarhouse Barnes and Noble in the city, where former President Jimmy Carter was doing a book signing. We naively hadn’t anticipated the long lines that wound around the block to await entry into the bookstore, but quickly decided that going to dinner was probably a more useful endeavor than finding the end of the queue. So instead of meeting Mr. Carter, we enjoyed a delicious meal at Mazza, a Greek restaurant a few blocks away. (When we finally arrived home, so had my luggage. Woohoo!)
Wednesday, we headed south to Moab, but only made it as far Wellington, where we met Duke at the Outlaw Café. We ordered lunch and asked the waitress about Nine Mile Canyon, which was close by, and were referred to Duke, who sat at a nearby table, sipping coffee while his daughter finished up her meal. A self-proclaimed “font of useless information,” Duke at first joked that he wouldn’t advise a trip back there if we valued our tires, but he and his daughter agreed that it would be a more worthwhile trip than a visit to Canyonlands, which was our original destination. (That or Arches National Park.)
On Duke’s recommendation—and with his business card in hand, should we break down and need to be rescued—we decided to take a chance on the dirt roads of the 40+-mile so-called Nine Mile Canyon. (It was a nice gesture, but we did not end up needing his assistance, which is a good thing as we had no cell reception for most of our drive.)
So now it’s after 11:00 on Thanksgiving evening, and Myrna is reading the Entertainment Weekly article about the movie we just saw, and I’m typing to the accompaniment of Johnny Cash in the CD drive, and we’re still figuring out what tomorrow holds.
Note: It is now Friday around 1:15 p.m. (MST), and so far, this day has held a lazy morning at Myrna's place, and a fruitless search for an open library at which to post this blog entry—both here and at M's blog. Apparently, library employees in Utah get to enjoy Thanksgiving Friday as a holiday, as the three we visited, in Springville, Spanish Fork and Provo, are all closed until tomorrow. So here we are at a Kinko's in Provo, paying per minute to use the computer. And we're soon off to find lunch and explore Park City. My Utah sojourn is coming to a rapid close...more once I'm back in Pennsylvania!
Myrna was still full from our Thanksgiving feast (which we enjoyed with a group of folks from her church) but I decided to indulge in popcorn and cherry Coke. While in the concession line, we noticed the menu: popcorn, candy, nachos, pickles.
Pickles?
Is it just us, or is a pickle that least likely movie snack you can think of? Popcorn? Check. Junior Mints? Check. Chilled, garlicky, preserved cucumbers? Not so much. But the guy two people in front of us actually ordered one, so apparently, it’s popular movie food in Utah. In Provo, anyway. (We’re assuming this item wouldn’t be on the menu if this is the only guy purchasing them.)
I arrived in Salt Lake City late Monday night—sadly, my luggage did not. Myrna greeted me at baggage claim, where we left information with the nice lady who deals with lost luggage, then headed to Denny’s for a midnight snack (for me, anyway—it was only 10 here, but literally midnight where I came from).
Tuesday, Myrna went to work while I slept in; later, we took a drive into Provo Canyon—looked for Robert Redford at Sundance Resort (no sightings). We drove north to Salt Lake City again—went in search of the actual lake (which we found, but right at dusk, so not much to look at). We found our way to our ultimate destination: the Sugarhouse Barnes and Noble in the city, where former President Jimmy Carter was doing a book signing. We naively hadn’t anticipated the long lines that wound around the block to await entry into the bookstore, but quickly decided that going to dinner was probably a more useful endeavor than finding the end of the queue. So instead of meeting Mr. Carter, we enjoyed a delicious meal at Mazza, a Greek restaurant a few blocks away. (When we finally arrived home, so had my luggage. Woohoo!)
Wednesday, we headed south to Moab, but only made it as far Wellington, where we met Duke at the Outlaw Café. We ordered lunch and asked the waitress about Nine Mile Canyon, which was close by, and were referred to Duke, who sat at a nearby table, sipping coffee while his daughter finished up her meal. A self-proclaimed “font of useless information,” Duke at first joked that he wouldn’t advise a trip back there if we valued our tires, but he and his daughter agreed that it would be a more worthwhile trip than a visit to Canyonlands, which was our original destination. (That or Arches National Park.)
On Duke’s recommendation—and with his business card in hand, should we break down and need to be rescued—we decided to take a chance on the dirt roads of the 40+-mile so-called Nine Mile Canyon. (It was a nice gesture, but we did not end up needing his assistance, which is a good thing as we had no cell reception for most of our drive.)
So now it’s after 11:00 on Thanksgiving evening, and Myrna is reading the Entertainment Weekly article about the movie we just saw, and I’m typing to the accompaniment of Johnny Cash in the CD drive, and we’re still figuring out what tomorrow holds.
Note: It is now Friday around 1:15 p.m. (MST), and so far, this day has held a lazy morning at Myrna's place, and a fruitless search for an open library at which to post this blog entry—both here and at M's blog. Apparently, library employees in Utah get to enjoy Thanksgiving Friday as a holiday, as the three we visited, in Springville, Spanish Fork and Provo, are all closed until tomorrow. So here we are at a Kinko's in Provo, paying per minute to use the computer. And we're soon off to find lunch and explore Park City. My Utah sojourn is coming to a rapid close...more once I'm back in Pennsylvania!
Monday, November 21, 2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
In just a few brief minutes, I'm off to the airport to catch a flight to Salt Lake City! I thank God for my many blessings, and especially for loving friends and family members. May you have a blessed Thanksgiving celebration, wherever you may be.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Stranger in a Strange Land
My friend Myrna moved to Utah in September. Temporarily. She is spending the year working with an environmental testing company, making as much money as possible to pay off graduate school debt and to replenish her dwindling savings.
I'm excited to report that this time next week, I'll be getting ready to head to the airport to board a plane for Salt Lake City! I'll be spending Thanksgiving week with Myrna, exploring this foreign-to-me part of the country.
Speaking of which, Myrna has started a blog to share the impressions of Mormon country through the eyes of a (non-Mormon) western Pennsylvania native. If you're interested in reading some of her observations, you can check them out here. Stranger in a strange land, indeed.
I'm excited to report that this time next week, I'll be getting ready to head to the airport to board a plane for Salt Lake City! I'll be spending Thanksgiving week with Myrna, exploring this foreign-to-me part of the country.
Speaking of which, Myrna has started a blog to share the impressions of Mormon country through the eyes of a (non-Mormon) western Pennsylvania native. If you're interested in reading some of her observations, you can check them out here. Stranger in a strange land, indeed.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Road to recovery
Just a quick post to let everyone know that Mom was released from the hospital yesterday (Saturday). By early afternoon, she was on her way home, and her prognosis is good. She just needs to take it easy and, according to her doctor, "not fall again."
So much for being kept in the hospital "through the weekend"! We'll take it, though.
Thanks again for praying.
So much for being kept in the hospital "through the weekend"! We'll take it, though.
Thanks again for praying.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Through the weekend
The latest word about the saga of Mom's ruptured spleen: sounds like they'll be keeping her under surveillance at the hospital through the weekend. Which we're interpreting as "at least through Monday."
While she'd certainly rather be at home, we agree that it's better to be safe than sorry, and the hospital must be where she needs to be for the time being. She's feeling relatively OK, but I'm not sure what progress has been made toward the spleen healing itself. Maybe there will be more word later today. It's a waiting game.
Thanks for praying!
While she'd certainly rather be at home, we agree that it's better to be safe than sorry, and the hospital must be where she needs to be for the time being. She's feeling relatively OK, but I'm not sure what progress has been made toward the spleen healing itself. Maybe there will be more word later today. It's a waiting game.
Thanks for praying!
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