There are those traditions that we experience in our families in growing up—where we go for holidays, what we do for those special events, and what we EAT on those special days!  Certainly there are many traditions that develop around Thanksgiving—including, of course, a huge spread of food with turkey, dressing and gravy, cranberry sauce, and so on and so on!  If ever there is a foretaste of the banquet table of heaven, it’s the family table at Thanksgiving.

When Ken and I got married we realized that we needed to develop some new traditions.  There were parts of traditions from our families of origin that we wanted to hold on to, but we thought it would be fun to develop some new things that would characterize life with our own children.

The idea we came up with?  Well, of course, we decided on a new tradition for breakfast on Christmas morning.  Here it is—corned beef hash browned in a skillet with eggs steamed on top!  Neither Ken nor I had ever eaten corned beef hash and eggs in our families of origin—certainly not on Christmas morning, but somehow it seemed like an important part of the identity of our new family!  I suppose it was a good idea because some of our adult children have now adopted the tradition for their families!

But I digress—somewhere along the way I allowed myself to realize that special things do not have to be reserved for only one time of year.  I realized that since I love turkey and dressing and gravy SO much that I could enjoy it many more times of the year than simply on Thanksgiving Day!

And I realized that since we enjoy corned beef hash and steamed eggs SO much that we could have them ANY time during the year.  It didn’t even have to be BREAKFAST!  We could cook it for a breakfast-at-dinner occasion any time during the year!

But here’s the best part—because turkey and dressing and gravy ORIGINALLY were associated with Thanksgiving—any time we have that special meal it can be a reminder to be thankful!  After all, shouldn’t we be thankful EVERY day of our lives for all the blessings God sends our way?  And in the same way, every time that we eat corned beef hash and steamed eggs we can be reminded of Christmas and God’s great gift to humankind.  It can be a little bit of Christmas whether September, March or November! 

By the way, we had corned beef hash and steamed eggs for breakfast this morning!  “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”  Thanks be to God!

There are those traditions that we experience in our families as we grow up—where we go for holidays, what we do for those special events, and what we EAT on those special days!  Certainly there are many traditions that develop around Thanksgiving—including, of course, a huge spread of food with turkey, dressing and gravy, cranberry sauce, and so on and so on!  If ever there is a foretaste of the banquet table of heaven, it’s the family table at Thanksgiving.

When Ken and I got married we realized that we needed to develop some new traditions.  There were parts of traditions from our families of origin that we wanted to hold on to, but we thought it would be fun to develop some new things that would characterize life with our own children.

The idea we came up with?  Well, of course, we decided on a new tradition for breakfast on Christmas morning.  Here it is—corned beef hash browned in a skillet with eggs steamed on top!  Neither Ken nor I had ever eaten corned beef hash and eggs in our families of origin—certainly not on Christmas morning, but somehow it seemed like an important part of the identity of our new family!  I suppose it was a good idea because some of our adult children have now adopted the tradition for their families!

But I digress—somewhere along the way I allowed myself to realize that special things do not have to be reserved for only one time of year.  I realized that since I love turkey and dressing and gravy SO much that I could enjoy it many more times of the year than simply on Thanksgiving Day!

And I realized that since we enjoy corned beef hash and steamed eggs SO much that we could have them ANY time during the year.  It didn’t even have to be BREAKFAST!  We could cook it for a breakfast-at-dinner occasion any time during the year!

But here’s the best part—because turkey and dressing and gravy ORIGINALLY were associated with Thanksgiving—any time we have that special meal it can be a reminder to be thankful!  After all, shouldn’t we be thankful EVERY day of our lives for all the blessings God sends our way?  And in the same way, every time that we eat corned beef hash and steamed eggs we can be reminded of Christmas and God’s great gift to humankind.  It can be a little bit of Christmas whether September, March or November! 

By the way, we had corned beef hash and steamed eggs for breakfast this morning!  “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”  Thanks be to God!

July 24, 2017 “Writer’s Block”

Writers live in fear of one thing—writer’s block!  There’s no explaining it.  It simply comes out of the blue.  It’s an experience of feeling as though no words will flow; no thoughts will gel.  You’ve seen it portrayed on movie screens—the writer sitting in front of an ancient typewriter, inserting page after page, starting over again and again and again with no intelligible stories coming to fruition.

In our lives of faith we often experience a similar kind of phenomenon.  We sometimes refer to it as a dry well. Many of us grew up without benefit of city water systems.  Instead we had to drop a bucket attached to a pulley system into the well with the hopes of filling it with water which we would then wind up for use in our homes.  But imagine the consternation if one day we dropped in the bucket only to discover that the well had dried up—no water to draw, nothing to replenish our dry, parched throats.

The Psalmist was good in calling out to God in such times of despair.  The Psalmist recognized his dependence upon God, but sometimes he felt as though God were far away.  Sometimes he would plead with God and plead with God to be present in whatever set of circumstances had come his way. 

There was, however, another part of the Psalmist’s prayer.  The Psalmist would be begin his prayer with complaint.  He would go so far as to list REASONS why God needed come and intervene.  These reasons would include things so noteworthy as, “God, we look CRAZY to our pagan neighbors if we call out to you and you do not come to our aid!”  (My paraphrase!)   But before ending the prayer the Psalmist on most occasions would recall ways that God had been faithful in the past, and if faithful in the past the Psalmist would feel he could rely upon God for current and future experiences of distress.

Most often if the wells of our faith are dry it is not because God has failed to show up.  Most often the wells of our faith are dry because you and I have failed to spend time putting aside other distractions in order to be attentive to scripture and to prayer.  But whatever the cause for our “dry wells” you and I can follow the example of the Psalmist.  We can call out in our distress.  We can give God reasons why God should come to our aid. 

But may we also remember the other part of the Psalmist’s pattern in prayer.  May we remember the ways God has been faithful to us in the past.  May we recount the good work that God has done in our lives throughout our lives.  May we feel that sense of certainty that because God has shown up in the past, has acted on our behalf in the past, then surely God will show up NOW!

And FYI—writer’s block—OVER!

In 2010 I had finished the project part of the work toward my DMin degree.  The writing of my dissertation lay ahead.

In one respect the writing process was daunting—talking about the grief experience and how the lament psalms did or did not provide hope and help for members of my grief support group.  In the other respect, however, the writing became simple and easy.  After all, there were chapter limits—that which confined my writing.  There even was a maximum page limit.  Chapters could never click on endlessly.  Neither could a hundred pages become two hundred, three hundred or more.

Sometimes life has a way of defining chapter limits and page limits. Sometimes we get difficult diagnoses and despite the best medical treatments, good dietary regimens, hope and faith and trust, chapters of our lives are confined to certain limitations.  That’s tragic.

But the real tragedy is when you and I live our lives as if chapter limits and page limits had been set for us when they have not.  The real tragedy is when we let loss of jobs, disappointments, setbacks, and even downward turns in matters of health to cause us to see ourselves as “in the final chapter,” as having no possibility of a new chapter for the future.

Just as all hope and possibility for a future disappears the Risen Christ shows up.  He offers us the possibility of a new chapter in our lives—the opportunity to live out love and hope with people around us, the opportunity to put a positive stamp on the world.  May we each live fully into the new chapter God wants to write with us in our lives.

I have taught EVERY kind of piano student since beginning to teach in 1973.  I have taught students whose mothers said, “I never learned to play so you are going to learn!”  I have taught students who begged their parents for lessons long before they actually enlisted me as a teacher. I have taught students who never touched the piano from one lesson to another, and I have taught students who played constantly from one lesson to another.  I have taught students who simply wanted to play through a piece and checked it off as having been learned however cursorily, and I have taught those who wanted to play and play, practice and practice, until they could play without stops and starts—errors along the way.

Matthew, my grandson, came to his piano lesson this week.  Before I could ask him to play a particular piece, he pulled out his hymn arrangement book and said he wanted to play “When the Saints Go Marching In” for me.  He said, “I want to play it until I can play it perfectly!”

Wow—music to a piano teacher’s ears!  Not literal music—but music in the form of words—that a student, a grandson no less—wants to play “When the Saints Go Marching In” until he can play it perfectly!

John Wesley constantly spoke of that kind of commitment to the Christian walk.  He never once saw the faith as a matter of a one-time decision to follow Jesus.  Instead he saw that day by day the Christian must pledge himself/herself to following in the footsteps of Jesus.  He, in particular, saw the person of faith as on a path of being made perfect—made perfect in love.  One of the historic questions as ministers are ordained is this, “Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life?”

It’s a daunting question.  Being made perfect sounds impossible for us to achieve this side of heaven.  But God’s desire is that we be in constant pursuit of the love of Christ lived out in our lives.  We need all be more like Matthew, “I want to practice it and practice it until it is perfect!” 

As I flip the channels and discover This Old House, I always stop and see what the particular episode has to say about my own efforts in renovating an old house.  The first thing that I see portrayed in the show—validated in my own experience—is that things in old houses are never perfect! Corners are not plumb.  Floors are not level.  Walls have wavy imperfections. All of these present particular challenges in renovation efforts.

The second thing that I always realize as I watch episodes of the show is that I am not Tom Silva.  Neither am I Norm Abrams, Steve Thomas, or Bob Vila!  If I spend the rest of my life trying to acquire their skills and expertise I will fall miserably short! 

The third thing I learn as I watch the show is that one failed attempt at a project necessitates a little research and additional efforts in different directions.  Products, systems, and efforts that work in new houses often need adaptation when applied to century-old structures. 

The fourth thing I have learned is that it is important to seek help when needed.  There’s always another expert—another person who has spent his/her own life figuring out solutions to exactly the problem that currently needs to be addressed.

Ah, the lessons I have learned firsthand while trying to renovate my old house!  I have struggled beyond belief with overcoming my expectation that things be perfect and with my frustration when jobs turn out less than perfectly!  Take for instance the effort of hanging the first two kitchen cabinets—the walls were wavy.  The floors were not level.  I spent hours—days—in frustration about spending so much money on cabinets only to have them turn out less than perfectly hung.  It was not until exerting monumental effort to hang a few more cabinets that I stood back and concluded, “Hey, they look pretty good!”

No, I am not Tom Silva, nor Norm Abrams, nor Steve Thomas, nor Bob Vila!  I don’t have to be.  I am Shirley Wright—wife, mother, grandmother, minister—one who has devoted large segments of her life to other efforts, but at the same time I can dabble with renovating an old house, one that doesn’t have to please anyone OTHER THAN KEN AND ME!

I have learned to be patient.  I can never set a time-clock such as the professionals might use and have my projects be completed on time.  Sometimes projects extend weekend after weekend after weekend.  Yet, when I set the goal and keep the goal before me, eventually I finish and can celebrate what has been accomplished.

I have learned to make frequent trips to Habersham Hardware or to Lowes’ to ask for help.  It’s amazing how many skilled folks there are in the world who ENJOY sharing their expertise.  It is only through the sharing from many of these folks that I now have a finished downstairs bathroom in my old house!

You may have realized by now that all of these are lessons that are important to learn about life—not simply about renovating an old house.  We are not perfect, and many of us struggle our whole lives with issues about not being perfect.  God’s desire is simply that we admit our shortcomings or our downfall or our mistakes along the way and let him help us use those to promote growth in our lives.  We need learn to be patient with ourselves.  God allows us the opportunity to make mistakes and to start all over again—both in relationship with him and in relationship with others.  But God calls us to never give up—never give up on life, never give up on relationship with him and or with others, never give up on efforts to make the world a better place.  God reminds us that we all need help from time to time.  We need to learn to lean on one another, to listen to one another, and to share our areas of expertise so that we can help each other have happier, more fulfilling lives! 

Today I give thanks for my old house—for the shelter that it provides, but also for the lessons that it has taught me along the way!  I give thanks for lessons that I have learned and continue to learn about imperfection, about patience, about persisting when things get tough, and with seeking need when it is needed.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon—a wonderful time for a drive along curvy mountain roads, soaking in the sun and the sights.  There it was—it burst before our eyes avalanche style!  We had to find a spot beside the narrow road to turn around and take in the sight more fully.

We parked in front of Serendipity Stained Glass on Scenic Highway 197 north of Clarkesville.  There are many beautiful pieces of art to see should one actually enter the shop, but on this day God alone provided His handcrafted beauty—hundreds, thousands of daffodils sprinkled densely down the hillside toward the road.  They were waving in the gentle breeze displaying their quiet, unassuming grandeur.  Their pops of golden color invaded visual space as if to say, “God’s in God’s heaven—all’s right with the world!

I remembered a sermon I heard decades ago—a sermon from the pulpit of the Decatur First Baptist Church.  The Reverend Dr. Peter Rhea Jones took his inspiration from the many daffodils dotting the expansive grounds of the church.  It was early in the season—the time of year when so often we watch the daffodils appear only to have them frozen by an unexpected chill in the weather.

Dr. Jones was a master of words, and he crafted a sermon title much like some build houses or fashion pieces of furniture.  His title for the sermon I remember so vividly was, “The Daring Daffodils of Decatur!”

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all pattern our lives after the daffodils?  Wouldn’t it be world-changing if we were all a bit more daring in terms of our outreach to people around us—people who are struggling and need a listening ear or a helping hand?  Wouldn’t it revolutionize relationships the world over if we saw everyone as God sees them and if we lived out patterns of love toward others in the way Jesus taught us to love.

Take a look at the daffodils.  Remember the “Daring Daffodils of Decatur” or of Winterville or Athens or Atlanta or wherever you live.  Ask God to help you be a bit more like the daffodils—being a bit more daring in your acts of kindness toward others that you encounter along your daily path.

We are moving along with the decades-long renovation of our old house, but upon reaching the state of completion that currently exists we must pause, take stock of what remains to be done, and establish next steps.  As we pause we realize that we now are in the state where we need closet space—space for clothes and shoes and sweaters that we wear every day--but there is a problem.  Until now closets have mostly served to store tools, wood purchased at the local Lowe’s, moldings that have been removed but not reinstalled.  All the items stored in the closets are important items.  We cannot throw them away.  They will serve a purpose at a later stage of our renovation, but for now they need to find a new home so that the closets may serve their designated purpose!

What can we do?  The thought pops into our minds that comes so very frequently for folks wondering where to put things in their homes, “Why not move all this stuff to the basement?”  Keep in mind that in your home it might be the attic or the garage; the same principal applies.

Yes, why not move all this stuff to the basement?  There’s one small problem.  Our basement looks like the typical basement belonging to anyone who hasn’t done a recent cleaning-out process.  Broken chairs cast aside with the intention of sooner or later getting them fixed, camping supplies held over from the last camping trip two decades ago, spare parts for items that have long ago been sent to the trash heap—all these wind up in our basements or attics or garages! 

Here's what we realize--until we get rid of the junk there’s no room for the good stuff!  A thorough, radical cleaning is the only thing that will help!

Jesus speaks volumes about thorough and radical kinds of cleaning, but for him the topic under discussion is not basements or attics or garages.  Instead the topic under discussion is our hearts and our lives.  Until we turn our hearts and lives over to God and allow God to do the thorough and radical kind of cleaning that is so desperately needed, there is no room for the good stuff—no room to fully experience God’s love, no room to fully connect with the people around us in the fullness of God’s love!  As we begin to ponder spring cleaning, may we also remember God’s calling to the cleaning—the washing white as snow—of our spiritual lives!

My heart was touched when he brought the crib-sized, handmade quilt and placed it in my lap with these words, “Can you stitch it back together?”  I hadn’t seen the quilt in decades—the quilt lovingly made by my grandmother when I was pregnant, the quilt loved and carried through many a mile of my son’s childhood pursuits.  It had seemed only logical that I take it out of its storage and take it to his house as soon as he began having children of his own.

But now it is tattered.  The blocks are coming apart from one another.  The blocks are coming loose from the background.  The binding is coming unsewn.  There is hardly a seam in the whole quilt that is entirely intact.

What touched my heart was his recognition of this—this gift from the third generation removed from him—as something to be mended and brought back to life for his own children and potentially future generations of children to enjoy.  After all we live in a throw-away world.  We live in a world where everything carries a pricetag and where things without a high dollar value are often cast aside, thrown into the trash heap, replaced by something of greater dollar value!

But who can put a pricetag on stitches made by loving hands eagerly anticipating the birth of a great grandchild?  Who can put a pricetag on items that have weathered childhood and that beg for the opportunity to weather the escapades of future generations of children?

My hands will grasp the quilt with memories flooding into my brain—memories of the sweet woman who made the quilt, memories of my child who carried it in his arms or dragged it behind him wherever he went.  More importantly, however, my hands will grasp the needle and the thread with a committed heart and with dogged determination to preserve that which needs to be preserved.  My hands will be relentless until the stitch in time is complete!

It occurred to me—just as we are casual about items in the world around us, so are we casual about people in the world around us.  We sometimes will cast people aside or devalue people and replace them with “newer, better” models. 

But what if?  What if we were convinced of the value of people—people like ourselves, people different from ourselves, people who are easy to love, people who are hard to loved?  What if we made the commitment to protect and preserve relationships?  What if we dedicated ourselves to the hard work of repairing relationships that may be broken?  “A stitch in time saves nine,” says the old expression!