Watch for the Light

It may surprise you to learn that I am a bit of a Scrooge. I prefer the term “Advent purist,” but the way it manifests is that I am rather militant in my desire to save Christmas celebrations for 24 December and after. At Bible and Beverages this past Monday night, one of our number joked that he wished he knew where the circuit breaker was at Mahoney’s Garden Centre so he could cut power to the Christmas lights. It was a funny thought that made me feel a little less alone in my bahumbugness about it all.

I don’t want to be a Scrooge. I want to see the lights and the joy and internalize some of the wonder but that can be difficult with all that seems to swirl around – especially this time of year. There is a distinct difference between the light of Christ in Christmas and the commercial hoopla that the decorations in the stores represent. All of this has called me to consider what concrete steps I could take to intentionally focus on the light that breaks through the darkness in this season. Where can I find Christ in the midst of the craziness?

To answer those questions I’ve decided to adopt an Advent discipline this year as a way of intentionally looking for the light each day. Similar to a Lenten discipline, I will be taking specific prayerful steps to listen to what the Spirit is saying in my life. Not surprisingly, the steps I will be taking involve color and lots of glitter. I plan to paint each day during Advent as a prayer and mindfulness activity.  There are two books that will be my guides on the journey: Praying in Color by Sybil McBeth and The Painting Table by Roger Hutchison.

It can be very easy to lose track of the simple and beautiful reason for this season when society tells us to sprint from Thanksgiving to Christmas. But really, is there ever a time of year when we don’t feel the push to sprint ahead? It seems that with each change of season there is another reason why we can’t slow down. From sports to time changes to work schedules and everything in-between, there is always something to be done or someplace to go. It seems this is nothing new since the architects of the church calendar very intentionally built in seasons of reflection in advance of our two major feast days. Advent is a time for hopeful expectation. It is a time that can be stressful and even painful as we remember the people and events in our lives that have influenced us. But Advent is also an invitation – an invitation to wait, watch, notice, and pray all the while trusting that Christ will come. So, while I work on the trust part I will keep my hands busy (and messy) this season.

A lifetime of gratitude

"If the world is night, shine my life like a light." -Emily Saliers

For those on social media, we are seeing a lot about a month of gratitude. Folks are taking the opportunity each day to openly express what they are grateful for. I have loved reading my friends little moments of gratitude – many of which are the beautiful little, everyday things we often take for granted. But this also has me thinking: Why is it counter cultural to express our gratitude?

When we choose whom to surround ourselves with we are more likely to choose happy, positive people. It’s just human nature to surround ourselves with people who make us feel good. As someone who sometimes struggles with how I am perceived by new folks, I am especially cognizant of this tendency. I recognize it in myself, too – I want to be around people who help me see the blessings in life. So I wonder – if we are more prone to choose happiness in our relationships, why do we find it difficult to share the magical moments of joy as freely as we share annoyances?

It seems to me that it has become societally intolerable to express these gratitudes because we don’t want to be perceived as braggarts.  We want to be seen as humble and to do that we downplay our sparkle and in doing so we grow scales over our eyes that eventually obstruct our ability to see the wonder and blessing that is always around us. When we intentionally strive to fit in through mediocrity, we become more attune to the negativity around us. When we feel embarrassed about proclaiming awe and gratitude for fear of how others will interpret it, we eventually stop noticing those things all together.

This month of gratitude is a lovely invitation to remind ourselves of how blessed we are. It is permission to boldly recognize and name the gifts we receive on a daily basis – and in doing so, maybe we can walk into the next month with our vision restored and our hearts unburdened. What if we all tried, not just for a month, but in our lives to name a gratitude each and every day? How would that not only change others' perception of us, but our own perception of ourselves?  And, once that perception is changed, will we become more likely to try and share the beauty of the world with others?

Openly expressing gratitude is a simple, first step toward boldly adding sparkle to the world. (And you all know how I feel about sparkle.) So keep it coming. Whether through social media, personal interactions, or quietly in prayer - recognizing and expressing our gratitude can help us to see the light and seeing that light will help us to reflect that light into the shadowy places of the world.

Sparkle on, my friends.

The Theology of Baseball

I’ve heard it said that Fenway Park is the “Largest House of Prayer in Boston.” This week, more than usual, all eyes have turned to this cathedral of sorts as our hometown boys take on the Cardinals for yet another series. People from all walks of life have come to Fenway to celebrate and cheer as they collectively hold their breath with each swing of the bat. It’s the ultimate fellowship forum. For folks who may not have much else in common, during the post season we have common ground that brings us together.

Common ground is hard to come-by these days. We’ve just emerged after a sixteen-day government shutdown into a couple weeks with even more horrific school violence and natural disasters around the world claiming lives. We need something to root for. Regardless of which team we cheer on, (obviously you all root for the Sox…) having something fun to cheer for helps us when we must dive back into the trenches and face what is happening in the world. Baseball doesn’t make the rest of the world go away, but it brings us together to watch something fun and to hope for a little while.

What is it we see when we watch this “All-American Game?” We see a group of people whose collective purpose is to help one another come home. The entire purpose of the game of baseball is to get back to the place where it all started. When you are home you are protected. When you are home you are finally safe. There is no place else on the field where you experience that kind of safety. But, in order to come back home, you must first go out. You must use the gift of your physical form to go out into the field and to visit different places. While you are there, you will encounter different types of people and have conversations. You will have to watch what is happening around you and discern when it’s the right time to move to another place. Some things will help you get where you’re going; others will try to take you off of the right path. And when you do eventually make it back home –and you will- the celebration is grand.

Is it a perfect metaphor? No, of course not. But what it does is capture some of the reasons so many people are losing sleep. What if we used this momentary interruption of the monotony of life to infuse that hope into our lives, to be curious about our neighbors, to root for something good, and to look at our own paths home? Are you on the path that will get you home safely? What help do you need along the way? Is there a way you could be helpful on someone else’s path? And the thing I most like to ponder: what will the “coach” say to you when you do make it safely back home?

Finishing Last

As the sun came up just after arriving.

Someone has to do it. All of the running blogs and articles tell you that you “most likely” will not finish last when you race. Well, this morning I went and ran a 3.59 mile trail run with only 45 other people. As soon as I saw how small the field was, how BIG the hills were, and the crazy people in shorts and pro running gear running up and down hills for a prerace warm-up I knew there was a very strong likelihood I could actually finish last.

My friend Jane and I started in the back of the pack. With every steep downhill I went back to elementary science and thought: What goes down must come back up. Man alive, the second half of the course was going to be BRUTAL! I kept pace with Jane for the first half of the run but then I needed to back off. My lungs were on fire and running up the hills was not going to happen. I ran on the flats and downhills (which were becoming fewer and farther between) and walked up the hills. But not once did I feel badly about my position. I knew I was pushing myself as hard as I could. The last thing I needed to do was go and have an asthma attack in the middle of the woods – and the whistling in my lungs warned that was a distinct possibility. There were 3 of us at the back of the pack. I could see Jane ahead of me and one other girl a little further ahead. I joked with the officials positioned around the course that “I was making sure everyone made it out of the woods safely.” I listened to my body and pushed it even when I thought I couldn’t but knew it was safe to try.

Starting line before we began. Notice the folks in shorts!

There have been a lot of articles recently about back of the pack runners questioning if we are committed or even “real runners.” It feels a little like the questions I fielded when I was a transitional deacon. To be honest, while it is a little frustrating to know that these elite runners feel the need to comment about what may or may not be motivating runners like me, I really don’t care all that much. I will never be competing for a first place medal – and that’s okay. I am competing only with myself. I am competing to be better than I was yesterday. I am competing to use the body God gifted me with. That’s all – and that should be enough. I am no threat to the elites and I see no reason why it’s become so important for some people in that high bracket of runners to discourage a new crop of runners who might never run a 3 hour marathon (or run a marathon at all!), but who are getting off the couch, making their lives healthier, and inspiring others to do the same.

As I trudged up the hill to the finish line this morning I laughed at myself as I repeated over and over in my head: “and the last shall be first.” I felt like I finished first as I looked down the hill and realized that I had done it. (I know that’s not what Jesus meant when he said it, but he doesn’t mind that I took the scripture out of context – I checked with him.) I don’t know my split times because my running app froze during the race – but that’s okay because I completed my goal: I finished.

You are a priest to me

It is days like today - with interactions that stir the soul - that remind me what it is to be a priest. This morning I was scheduled to go get a mani/pedi since I’m going to a wedding tomorrow and *full disclosure* my feet look like hooves after all the abuse they’ve gotten from my running. It felt a little frivolous but I really just wanted a chance to relax and to feel pretty. I went in and a woman named Lynn took care of me. I was scattered when I arrived at the salon and chose 4 colors since I couldn’t make up my mind. I sat in the chair, apologized for my feet, and took a deep breath. Lynn quietly and gently got to work. I asked her name and about her family. She asked me about my family and about the event I was attending. I told her about my race on Monday and what a gift it was to be able to be pampered like this right now. The conversation naturally, and comfortably calmed to a silence and I closed my eyes.

Lynn gently and lovingly went about her work. I have never had a pedicure like this before. She was ministering to me in a really lovely way. I could feel the presence of God in her touch. It was eerily beautiful. When we moved over to the manicure station I asked Lynn more about her family and her life in Vietnam before she moved here. She told me that she always knew she wanted to do nails and hair and to “help women see themselves as beautiful.” She said she could have done other things but she loved seeing people smile when they feel pretty. She was describing a sense of call. I know that sense – I have it for my vocation as well.

My whole day presented these types of interactions with friends and strangers alike. These glimpses of holiness in the everyday. I spent the late afternoon making gluten free communion bread and the opportunity to help in that way while being able to be quiet and in solitude was a real gift.

Then this evening I went to get tea with a lovely friend. We talked about our respective lives and feelings. I was struck during our conversation with how easy it was to sit there with her and to palpably feel the Holy Spirit with us. I literally got goose bumps. Neither of us were putting on airs or trying to force anything. We were just present, as we are – trusting it was enough. As my friend spoke I could hear the Spirit in her words and I was moved to tears.

All day I have been struck by the fact that I am surrounded by priests. No, they are not necessarily ordained – but they are priests to me. In the circle of saints and the priesthood of all believers we all have the potential to affect sacramental change in the world. Every action and interaction has the potential for holiness when made with intention and care. Is this a theologically complex subject? Maybe. Do I believe it to be true? Absolutely. So thank you to all of you who have been or will be priests to me. You may not even know that you have given me this gift, but your goodness shines through you. I am grateful beyond words tonight for the gift of the priests in my midst.