Friday Five: I Like Myself

Ever notice how much easier it is to note your faults than to see your good qualities? Today's Rev Gal Friday Five is about some healthy affirmatio. Tell us five things you like about yourself!

1. I am tenacious. (Yes, I'm also stubborn!) If I think something is right, just, needs to be...I'll hang in there as long as I can to try to get it done. I don't give up easily.

2. I am flexible. Not physically...nope,nope,nope. In life. I can adapt to situations, people, places. And usually I can not only adapt, but I can find something to like and enjoy. That trait has been well-exercised in my life, which has been full of unexpected twists and turns. Someone recently said I was like a "Weeble." Those are toys. "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down!"

3. I can laugh at myself. Essential!

4. I can laugh with those who laugh and weep with those who weep.

5. I have a friendly smile. (Okay, I was running out of stuff.)

How about you?

The Pajama Farmer

Most of you know that our daughter Kris and her family have moved to rural Wisconsin (about 10 miles from us) from where they lived in almost-inner-city Minneapolis. Daryl started a blog about their experiences on their little hobby farm. It's called "Pajama Farmer." Go visit if you are interested in two city kids going country.

Little Big Foot: Paint

Marla Whitewater sat back on her heels with a sigh. "I think that about does it." She balanced her paintbrush carefully on the side of the paint can. "Ready for the roller." She glanced into the can. "I hope we have enough to finish the room. I'd hate to send poor Chad back to the Ben Franklin Store one more time!" She was dressed in a rolled up pair of jeans and one of her husband Dennis' cast-off dress shirts. She had tiny flecks of pink paint in her hair and a smear of it across her right cheek.

Pastor Dee Anna grinned as she turned on the ladder where she stood painting the wall next to the ceiling. Like Marla, she wore jeans but her shirt was red and said "Eastside UMC" on the back. "That's a lovely shade of blush you have on your face, Marla, but maybe a bit too permanent to be practical."

As Marla raised her hand to her cheek, Dennis' genial brown face popped around the door frame. "How's it goin' in here ladies? It's been a challenge covering up that bright green color, but Chad and I are about done."

"I woulda been done an hour ago if I hadn't had to keep running to the store." Chad's voice called from the hallway.

Dee Anna climbed down from the ladder as Marla stood to her feet, stretching. "I could use some nourishment, but it would be nice to get Madeline's room all painted before we stop." She bent to pick up a roller. Madeline was spending the night with a new friend from school and Dee Anna hoped that when her daughter arrived home the next afternoon she would find her bedroom looking bright and welcoming with no hint of the dark purple that had made the small room look like a cave.

Pastor Dee Anna Hansen was surprised at how well things were going. When they had arrived there had been plenty of guys to help unload the truck. Madeline had kept Charlie occupied as best she could while the grown ups unloaded their belongings. Dee Anna had been surprised and gratified to see that a sizable portion of her new congregation were there to help out. In the church kitchen, Jim Johnson told her, several women were putting together a soup supper for everyone.

As Dee Anna directed the parade of furniture and boxes from a spot just inside the parsonage door, Marla Whitewater and Lorene Johnson had eyed the boxes till they found the ones marked kitchen. The two of them had the dishes, utensils and pots and pans stowed away in short order. "I don't know if we put things in the spots were you will want things," Lorene had said to Dee Anna, "but it'll be easier rearranging than it would be unpacking a bunch of boxes in the kitchen."

Lee Coats and a middle-aged man named Ted had put the bed frames together. As soon as the mattresses were unloaded from the U Haul, Lee's wife, Mary, and one of the teenagers who Dee Anna learned was named Tiffany, searched for the box containing bedding. By the time all the furniture was in, the two of them had made up both her bed and Madelines with sheets, blankets and bed spreads.

Dee Anna had watched from the parsonage doorway as her couch, end tables, dresser, and cedar chest had emerged from the truck. After moving in all the furniture, several men and teen boys made a sort of assembly line and moved the boxes inside the little house.

Chad had led a group of young men in dispersing boxes to the various rooms. The whole job of moving all their things from the moving truck to the house had taken about an hour, and in another hour the furniture and boxes were stacked in the right places. Madeline had giggled when she came in to find that somone had even put her giant Winnie-the-Pooh in the middle of her bed. "But, Mommy," she'd said later that night, "the colors in this house are all so...so bright."

Now, a few weeks later, Dee Anna stood in the middle of her daughter's room for a moment, gazing around. It was looking pink--a shade that reminded her of sherbet. She smiled at Dennis and Chad, who had also appeared in the doorway. "I could go for some fish fry. Isn't that what you all eat up here on Friday nights?"

Marla looked at her and laughed, "Now that'd be a sight! The four of us trooping in to the Little Big Foot Diner dressed in jeans and paint splatters!"

"How about I go over to the Lumberjack Drive-In and get a sack of their hamburgers?" asked Chad. "They have the best burgers anywhere around." He glanced at Dee Anna with a small smile, "And besides, they actually sell Dr. Pepper."

A short while later the four of them sat around Dee Anna's round kitchen table, companionably sharing french fries and munching what had turned to be excellent hamburgers. Charlie snored softly from his dog bed in a corner. Most of the house was looking orderly, and Dee Anna confided to the others that she and Madeline were starting to feel at home. The four of them had spent most of the day painting and they were all tired, but it was the good sort of tired that comes after shared physical labor. The chartreuse hallway was now a warm beige, and Dee Anna was happy that Madeline's room would soon be looking feminine and cheerful.

The windows had been left open so the air could dispel paint fumes, but the night air was growing chilly. As Dee Anna rose to close the window above the kitchen sink, Dennis commented, "So, who's painting the wooden pumpkins on that bean bag game for the fall fest? And where are we going to find bright orange paint?"

"We could always send Chad back to the Ben Franklin" Marla said with a chuckle.

"Oh," said Pastor Dee Anna, thinking of the large stash of half empty paint cans she'd discovered in the basement a few days before, "I think I have just the perfect thing. Have any of you seen the orange closet in my bedroom?"

The others stopped talking to stare at her.

"There is at lease a half-gallon of that paint in the basement. It will be perfect for pumpkins."

I'm Employed...and We Heard from the VA

Well, friends and cyber neighbors, SingingOwl is employed!

Some of you know that I started a teeny tiny job answering the phone and doing some filing for a couple of hours on Monday morning for a small financial services firm. This has turned into a temporary, full-time position.

How long "temporary" turns out to be depends on several factors that are unknown as of this moment. It will be a few months, anyway. I am still answering phones and filing and doing some data entry, but I am also doing something creative.

The woman who owns the firm, MW, values education for her clients and others too. Several opportunities for this have opened up, and hopefully there will be more to come. I'm developing written materials (worksheets or handouts), advertising stuff, and power points to go along with the various topics in the presentations.

It is good to be doing something creative. It is also good to be working for a woman of great integrity and ethics. Also good to have a friend working in the office too (the one who recommended me for the job in the first place).

No, it's not "ministry" in the usual way we use the word. I'm still working on getting that going. But it is good to be employed!

Several times the boss lady has said something like, "I believe God is going to use the things you are learning here and doing for me for some additional purpose. Meanwhile, you are helping me." I hope and pray that she is correct about that!

And remember when we went to the Veteran's Administration for Ken to get an evaluation? Well, we heard from the VA service rep today. He told Ken that he is rated 100% disabled. This does not mean that he cannot continue his employment, this is just for Uncle Sam's purposes. How much money we will receive is unknown at this point. Ken should find out next Friday.

We hope this means we will soon be current on the mortgage!

Not exciting to be face-to-face with the fact that he is not doing all that well physically, but exciting to think the financial pressure may be easing soon.

Thanks to those who have prayed for us.

God Loves People

John 3:16-17 (King James Version)
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved."

God loves us.

You knew that, right? Me too. So why is it so easy to start thinking and acting like God is condemnation, or God is anger, or God is snobbish?

Last weekend we went to one of our favorite "Rendezvous" sites. (That's "rondy voo" as in fur-trade era playing), not a romantic tryst. I've posted about this site before. This is the third time we've been to this one, which is mostly a smallish group (20 lodges or so) of friends and friendly acquaintances. It is the place where I was asked to do something I never expected, the place where I baptized someone I normally wouldn't have, where I met The Mandolin Man, and where I took pictures of musicians in the twilight.

Each year we've been there we have been aware of God's presence in some way, particularly on Sunday in the little church service. This year was no exception. Something had subtly changed in attitudes towards us, not that they were bad before, but this time people were more relaxed. They remembered our names, talked about previous rendezvous there, admired little Trinity (who was with us without Mommy and Daddy and did fine). They also graciously welcomed Kevin, Ken's brother, like a long-lost friend.

This rendezvous was quite enjoyable partly because there were a number of really good musicians. The man who plays the washtub bass like a pro was there again, an old man who literally made music with a pair of spoons, another interesting guy who used a washboard for percussion (Zydeco style), a fiddler, and a couple of guitarists. Ever since the baptism experience, we are asked to have a worship service on Sunday. It's always interesting. This year several of the musicians agreed to play for Sunday worship.

They were a motley crew, I tell you! I wish I had a picture. (I would have except I forgot to put the memory card back the last time I used the camera.) Picture all of the people dressed in 18th Century garb.

The bass player plucked his one string, with facial expressions and body language that eloquently said, "I love making this music." He is extraordinary, and I can hardly believe the music he makes with a washtub, broom handle and one string. It makes me smile just to watch and listen to someone enjoy themselves so much in such a simple way.

The man with the spoons had a long, grizzled beard and his hard life showed in the deep wrinkles of his face. The one with the washboard was white-haired and smiling and wore red suspenders to match his voyageur-style red striped long socks.. The guy with the guitar, who loves Dylan songs, was younger.

They played and sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," "I'll Fly Away," and "Keep on the Sunny Side." It might seem funny to think of singing those songs at a worship service, but they were very sincere. As they played Trinity smiled and clapped her little hands and bounced on her wooden camp chair. Others sang, smiled, or just nodded in time. Kevin sang from his wheelchair next to Trinity, wearing his late father's Stetson hat that he had flattened out "mountain man" style. A beautiful little girl with long blond hair sang and smiled in the front row, her boot tips peeking out from beneath the hem of her long skirt.

Something happened. I became intensely aware of God's love. Pure, unalloyed, constant--God loved the spoon player with the deep wrinkles who had probably imbibed too much the night before. God loved to see the washboard bass player having so much joy in his music. God loved the beautiful little blond girl, the cute black children who were dressed in fringed buckskin, the grandparents of the little boy who'd been baptized a couple of years ago. God loved the circle of simple worship. And God loved the ones who, in spite of our efforts and our friendly invitation, did not attend but stayed away, as they have each year, for reasons only they knew.

I wanted the simple moment, the simple and sentimental music, the blue sky and sunshine to go on and on. Truly, my spirit seemed to swell with a deep awareness of the boundless love of our Creator God to his fallible and fickle creation, humankind.

A chance jest from the organizer of the rendezvous, "No need to pray for _________, he's going to Hell no matter what" had turned into a sermon idea. I ended up talking about John 3:16-17. Several of the church attenders probably had little to no understanding of God's "good news." So I kept it very simple. I spoke of God's love and how so many of us think God is eager to condemn us--when the opposite is true.

Afterwards, the grandmother of the baptized boy (I don't know how else to identify him) came up to me and softly said, "Thank you so much" as she hugged me hard. I'm not sure what she was thanking me for, but I knew the Holy Spirit was with us in that moment. Her little grandson, now almost four, appears to be autistic and to have other problems.

Her husband, who tends to be bombastic, hugged me as well and joked, "That is the first time I ever hugged a lady preacher. I used to be scared of you. Maybe some of the holy will wear off on me." Another man quietly said, as he shook my hand, "Thanks for helping me think about God in a different way." Another said, "I liked your sermon. The only time I go to church is here or at other rendezvous. Don't misunderstand, I am a Christian man. I just don't like church. Thanks for making us feel welcome.."

Thank you, God for people. Thank you, God for being love--so amazing, so holy, so beyond finding out. And thank you, God, for the chance to share a simple sermon and to be reminded that you did, indeed, call me to preach the word. Send someone to water the seeds planted, to love, to smile, to be you in this world. Have your way in the hearts and life of each person who was with us last weekend. Continue the good things you have begun, I pray, for the sake of the Kingdom. Amen

Comments About Rick Warren

I left a long comment under the previous post, so I decided to just turn it into a post.

I did not say Rick Warren has never worn a Hawaiian shirt. The thing was that he says he does not routinely wear Hawaiian shirts, and that he does not presently own one. He laughed when he said that newspaper articles keep calling him the "Hawaiian shirted pastor," his point being that articles just quoted each other instead of finding out for themselves. People could say (if there was any purpose) that I am the "long-red-dress-wearing woman pastor" and have a picture to prove it.

As for being what he needs to be depending on who is around him, I seem to remember St. Paul saying something about that very thing?

A weak stand on the gospel? What does that mean? I'm about to get snarky so we will agree to disagree.

I find the current Rick Warren bashing among certain segments of the evangelical word to be ludicrous and to bring reproach on the church, not the other way around. Certain websites even seem to believe he is a sort of anti-Christ. You don't have to be his biggest fan to realize how foolish that is.

Ruth, I say a loud AMEN (what a surprise--not) and CO, I assumed some things too. I found I was wrong. I was impressed with his gracious manner, the civic forums his church holds, the way he reaches out to others...Yep, I think some who villify him are people who have a pretty narrow view of what a Christian looks like. But maybe I am stereotyping again! :-)

As for the fluff factor...well, I am not commenting on "The Purpose Driven Life." That wasn't the point of the post. Was there anything to criticize there? I think so. There was also much to praise. And the fact that so many people did not know the very basic things discussed is in that book is, in my opinion, more an indictment on the pitiful state of knowledge of the average American church goer than of Rick Warren.

Tomorrow I am on to a totally different subject.

I Forgot Rick Warren

I know, I know. Some people who sometimes read here probably think that would be a good thing.

Pastor Rick Warren of Saddleback Church, California, and the author of "The Purpose Driven Life" spoke to us one morning at General Council. I was not enthusiastic about this. The reason why is not really important.

I need to say that I was wrong. It was a terriffic hour or so and I was encouraged and challenged. This man is different than I expected. He says that about 90% of what is reported in the media about him should be taken with a large grain of salt. I believe that. That's because I've been interviewed numerous times for newspaper articles of one sort or another, both as a minister and in other employment arenas. Ken too. I have yet to find that the reported acurately repeated what I (we) said or did. And I'm not a clebrity anywhere exceot in my own home.

Much of what I assumed about Rick Warren is apparently false. He was down-to-earth and not one bit pompous. Contrary to often repeated media reports, he does not wear Hawaiian shirts. He says he does not own one. He was dressed casually, however, which was fine. He lives on 10% of his income and gives away 90%. He did not move into a larger home when the money from Purpose Driven Life started pouring in. He doesn't wear a Rolex. He says a minister should be know for his or her purpose, not prosperity. (Yes!) His car is ten years old. He is passionate about addressing the AIDS crisis in Africa and elsewhere.

I was prepared to dislike him. Instead he won me over. Do I agree with everything I suspect he believes (or doesn't? I'm sure not. But I had to ask God's forgivness for my attitude. You know, we folks in the "church" really do need to learn to cut one another some slack.

Odds and Ends from General Council '09

Some relatively random impressions of how things went at the Assemblies of God General Council.


Lots of Young People

The "Fine Arts Festival" was happening at the same time as General Council. This means that AG teens from around the nation are in the finals of a competition that starts in the local church, goes to the district, the region, and ends up with the finalists at General Council. There was so much energy and fun all around us in the convention center as the kids practiced anywhere they could find an empty spot or corner--a living video here, a solo there, a violin or guitar playing somewhere else. And lots of matching tee shirts with youth group or church names on the back. I also was aware of the diversity I saw among the youth. There were many Asians, Hispanics, Blacks, etc. We are clearly no longer a fellowship of mostly white, rural people. The Hispanic churches account for the largest share of the continued growth of the Assemblies of God.

Something that happened this year that we thoroughly enjoyed was that we had a combined service one evening with the youth. WOW! It was wonderful. Thousands of people singing, worshiping, rejoicing together. Everyone loved this inter-generational service, including the kids. And we got to hear Shane and Shane.


Culture Changes

AG culture, that is. Every morning before the business sessions started a pastor had about ten minutes for prayer and a devotion. Not new. What was new was that the pastors who were asked to do this were all WOMEN ministers. Is this a small thing? Perhaps. But it speaks volumes. I could be mistaken, but I think this was a first. And it did not only happen once. If the change doesn't happen with leadership it is not likely to happen. Was it accidental that women were featured in this way? Not likely. Young ministers and minorities were more in evidence as well. The speaker for the evening service that was combined with the youth was a young, black pastor, Herbert Cooper. He was a wonderful (and funny) preacher. Well, I admit it did not hurt that he looked a lot like a hefty version of Denzel Washington.

Technology

It seems the Assemblies of God is coming into the 21st Century. The changes have been noticeable in many places (George Wood is on Facebook for example), and these changes were evident at council as well. I was impressed with the overall organization and look of things.

No Longer a Fashion Show

I know this was partly due to Florida heat and humidity, but the clothing was casual. This is a good thing. I mean, I recall times when it seemed that the main attraction of a GC for some people was that they could display their best outfits and jewelry--to such a degree that one almost felt out of place if not decked out. This more casual attitude was evident in many areas, not just clothes. And while the heat played a part, I'm sure, such was not the case when council was in CA or TX. So something else is happening. I hope it means a new willingness to take ourselves less seriously and walk a bit more humbly.

The USA Missions Banquet

Ken and I attend because the chaplains dept. is part of USA Missions. Among other stories, we heard a moving and amazing testimony from a former prostitute, drug addict, abuse victim, single mom with nowhere to go (except to church, evidently) and what happened to her when two inner-city pastors (a husband/wife ministry team) reached out to her with genuine love and compassion. Five years later she is drug-free, employed, and ministering to others. It was such a wonderful story, and the nervousness of the speaker detracted not at all. We gave her a standing ovation (and she cried). What a reminder it was of the reason we do what we do!

George Wood's Sermon About Leah

I have never preached, and never heard, a sermon with Leah (first wife of Jacob) as the central character. Dr. Wood preached a sermon about the legacy of our lives that was truly unforgettable. Was it an accident that the sermon was about a relatively unremarkable (not really) woman? I do not think so. Our new General Superintendent's regard and kindness to women is notable. And along with the women ministers who shared devotions, I think the sermon was very much "on purpose."

When Dr. Wood was elected two years ago it was for only a two-year term since he was serving the duration of the unexpired term of Thomas Trask who resigned mid-term. So this year we had an election again, and Wood was elected to serve a four-year term. Two years ago I heard snippets of conversations about how he was "too old" to take our church in a fresh direction. One young pastor commented in my hearing that Wood would be a good person to serve for two years and help us transition, and that he expected a younger person would be elected in 2009. Well, George Wood was elected by an overwhelming majority on the first nominating ballot. He has won the hearts and minds of just about everyone. YAY!

Our First Woman, and Our First Young Guy

In response to a resolution that passed last time, we elected two additional members of the Executive Presbytery. For the first time we have a woman minister, and a minister under age 40 serving in this the leadership body (a small group). The woman was Beth Grant, who some of you know. I voted for Dr. Debbie Gill, but Beth is great too.

A Disheartening Note

Inexplicably, last council we voted to elect a woman and a young person to serve on the executive team, but an almost identical resolution to add a percentage of women and young ministers to the General Presbytery (a larger body) was defeated because it narrowly missed the 2/3 majority required. Naturally, a similar resolution was offered this year. All of us thought it would pass this time. Especially since when Beth Grant shared a heartfelt thank-you to the assembled voters for electing her, and reminded us of why this move was historical and important. How could we applaud adding women/youth to the executive presbytery and not also add them to the general presbytery? The discussion in the business meeting got lengthy, and many substitute motions and proposed amendments clouded the issue. Long story short, by one (YES, ONE) vote, the whole thing was sent back to a committee for further review. ONE VOTE! Sigh. Next council is in 2011.

I will refrain from comment, because it just wouldn't be fittin'.

Overall, it was a remarkable General Council

A few pictures:

Here I am with two other rev gals (no, not official ones). Ken took the picture of us just before we headed out into the Florida heat and humidity. We looked better in the a.m. than in the p.m. :-)

Ken and I discovered what was advertised on the menu as "Orlando's Best Kept Oriental Secret." It was a tiny Thai restaurant that was easily overlooked--not quite sure how we ended up there. When we walked in and sniffed the amazing aroma, we knew our food was going to be good. Ken learned to use chopsticks in Okinawa when he was in the USMC.

A shot of Dr. George Wood (I love that guy!) chairing one of the business sessions.

Ken and me outside the convention center.

A gift to Dr. Wood from AG missionary (and Native American) John Maracle.

General Council Update

The worship service for General Council was really good. Thousands of people singing "Holy Holy Holy" is a moving experience! Pentecostal pastors do know how to sing with enthusiasm and the convention center was filled with praise. There is something amazing about singing praise to God along with thousands of other worshipers. The worship leaders and choir were superb.

A sixteen year old named Parker brought the crowd to our feet as he challenged us to effectively resource the next generation of ministers, and our General Supt., Dr. George Wood preached a truly powerful sermon. It was about the legacy we leave behind and was based on someone that I don't think I've ever heard a sermon about in my whole life--Leah (Jacob's first wife). She was a woman who would have considered her life a failure. She experienced much that was unfair, even abusive--and yet Dr. Wood took us on a walk through scripture that showed us how the significance of her life could not be contained, or measured, during her lifetime. I found myself getting teary-eyed more than once. It was good.

Tomorrow we get up early and head out for the start of the business sessions. The resolution I spoke of in the previous post is number five, so we may get to it tomorrow.

Good night!

Assemblies of God General Council 2009

Tomorrow I pack my suitcase and Monday morning Ken and I head to Orlando, Florida for the Assemblies of God General Council. This is a national (and to some extent, an international) gathering of ministers, missionaries, and leadership. It happens every other year and is usually uplifting and encouraging. Not so much last time.

On the good end, two years ago we elected the first African American to serve as a national executive. We also elected Dr. George Wood, a man I greatly admire, to be our General Supt. Dr. Wood is "older" and some people thought that would mean he would be out of touch with the needs of our church. They could not have been more wrong. Without going into detail, I'll just say that he has a deep understanding of what must change if we are continue to grow, he is a strong advocate for women in ministry (see the link to his article in the sidebar), and he has taken steps to reach out to the younger pastors in the AG. He is my Facebook friend. Okay, I should say I am his...and he is going to Twitter from council.

Still, it was a discouraging council in several ways. The most frustrating moment came during a business session. A resolution had been submitted that would have caused slight change in the make up of our executive presbytery--I mean slight--but would have ensured we begin to practice what we preach when we say we are a fellowship that wants greater racial diversity, that knows our clergy are aging, and that prides ourselves (sometimes) on having women clergy. Had it passed, we would have had a woman, a young pastor, and a person of color sitting "at the table" with the many older, white males. (I love you guys! That is not the point.)

The discussion for and against got heated, made me furious, discouraged many people. I didn't plan on speaking, and I waited for some woman more known to come to a mic--but when none did--and after Ken poked me for the third time...well, up I went and made an impassioned "speech" in favor of the resolution. I took my seat to applause, which had to be stopped since we were in a business session. Gratifying, nonetheless! While the measure gained a sizable majority, it missed the required two-thirds vote by a small number. I was ready to go home right then.

I may not be able to post during the week, but we'll see. (I do not have a laptop.) I am certain that a similar resolution will be forthcoming this time as well. Several thousand people will be heading to Florida in the next few days (I heard an estimate of 35,000). Please pray with me that all arrive safely, that we hear what the Spirt would say to the church, and that God's will may be done on earth as it is in Heaven.

A Childish Friday Five

Rev Gal Kathryn says, "Maybe you are better at it than me, but my first-born, responsible demeanor rarely lets up enough for me to do frivolous silly things...without a good reason. My friend will stand up in a crowded restaurant and serenade me with an operatic rendition of Happy Birthday. My sister is very good at grabbing the joy in the moment. I seem to need a child to bring it out in me and even then… it takes a lot." She asks us to celebrate the spontaneous child in all of us… or at least the one that we admire in someone else:

1) On a scale of 1-5, with 5 being I can’t do this now I am about to jump into a pit of plastic balls at the mini-mall and 1 being I can’t do this now until I can get all of the fonts on my blog to match – where are you?

Maybe a three. Like K's friend, I could stand up and serenade you, and I can roll down a hill if the moment seems to call for it, but I am also way too aware of looking silly sometimes!

2) What is the silliest/most childlike thing you have done as an adult?

Hmmm...I am having a hard time thinking of silly childlike things right at this moment. (I'm on a lunch break.) Maybe rolling down a hill, as I mentioned in #1. One time I recall was with my friend Much2Ponder who blogs at "In Case You Were Wondering." She is more streamlined, so she went further than I did, but I guess length of roll was not the point, just the willingness to do it! Another time I watched some kids sliding down a grassy hill on pieces of cardboard, like sledding in snow. It looked like so much fun I had to try it. I flew down that hill and scared myself spitless, and I only did it once, but it was fun. (It was made a bit more precarious by the fact that I was wearing colonial garb instead of a tee shirt and shorts, but that is another issue.) If I had better balance, eyesight, etc. there would be a LOT more childlike things I'd do. The spirit, indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

3) Any regrets?

Huh? From doing childlike things? Nope. Or the regret was so transitory that I forgot it.

4) What is the silliest thing you have ever seen another adult do on purpose?

Someone who shall remain unnamed danced around the room with a toilet seat on their head. They were sober.

5) What is something you wish you did when you had the chance?

Sing on stage with a terrific band. I was with work colleagues and was too embarrassed, but today I'd do it in a second! Life is short!

BONUS: For our ‘I told you so’ sides – what thing did you skip doing and you’re really glad you did!

I'd rather not get too specific, but it involved flamage.

Little Big Foot: On the Road

Dee Anna stretched her arms over her head, bent and touched her toes, and then jogged in place, drawing a few sideways glances from others at the rest stop. Her shoulders were stiff and her backside was getting sore from the drive. It had been a long day.

She and Madeline, along with their dog, Charlie, had left Mrs. Herdon's home at 4:00 a.m. just as the birds began their pre-dawn singing. They had hoped to arrive in Little Big Foot by lunch, but an accident involving two cars and two deer on State Highway 51 had left the road impassable for some time while police cars and then tow trucks arrived. Madeline had cried about the deer.

Just as they'd gotten moving again, a peal of thunder rumbled across the sky and large raindrops had spattered the windshield. The ensuing storm had left them sitting on the side of the road for over half an hour, just one in a string of vehicles, while sheets of rain sluiced down the windshield and pellets of hail bounced off the hood of the U-Haul moving truck. The cab had grown steamy as the humidity had risen, but when Madeline had rolled down the window she'd gotten pelted by small ice balls and had quickly rolled it up again. Charlie had panted and pressed his nose against the side window, and Madeline had groaned that he was filling the truck cab with "dragon breath."

No sooner had they pulled back out onto the highway than Madeline had asked for something to drink. Dee Anna had sighed, but had realized she was thirsty too. It was a relief to see a rest stop sign and Dee Anna had pulled off the highway once again. Madeline had snapped Charlie's leash on his collar and they had happily headed for the dog walking area as her mother deposited two dollars in the vending machine for a Dr. Pepper. "Two dollars!" she'd thought, "why on earth did I not pack an ice chest?"

Now Madeline was at a nearby vending machine trying to decide whether to purchase a bag of M&Ms or a Payday candy bar and Charlie was howling from the parking lot where he stood tied to the passenger-side door handle.

Madeline decided on M&Ms and skipped outside with her purchase. "No chocolate for Charlie" Dee Anna had warned as she'd stretched. She stood near a large State of Wisconsin map near the women's restroom. She noted the bright yellow arrow with the words "YOU ARE HERE." She guessed they'd make it to North Woods Chapel in about an hour unless something unexpected happened. "Expect the unexpected" she thought ruefully as she looked at the dot that represented the town of Little Big Foot.

She saw that there were two lakes nearby. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She wondered absently if that was why the town had so many businesses that appeared to be geared to tourists.

Squinting, she read the tiny letters that identified one of the blue circles as "Big Foot Lake." Why, she realized, it does look a lot like a big foot. Dee Anna looked closer and saw that the small lake also had a vague resemblance to a human foot. She could even see what looked like a big toe. What a coincidence, she thought, two lakes and both looking like a foot. The smaller lake was just on the edge of town and she saw that it was called Little Big Foot Lake.

"Aha! So that's the reason for the odd name of the town. I guess they just named the town after the lake. How odd. I wonder why they didn't just call one lake Big Foot and the other one Little Foot?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madeline's voice from the doorway. "Mommy," she wailed, "Charlie just pooped right on the parking lot!"

Groaning, Dee Anna headed for the restroom for some paper towels. "It's okay, kiddo" she said to Madeline. "He's just a little mixed up from being in the truck all day." She dodged a giggling toddler who was running from her distracted mother. "Let's clean up the doggy doo doo and get outta here!" "Doggy doo doo?" asked Madeline with a giggle, "Mommy!"

A few minutes later, with Madeline and Charlie settled on the seat, she pulled out her cell phone and called the church to let folks know they were running a little late. Climbing into the cab after a quick conversation with Lee Coats, she smiled and said, "All righty. Little Big Foot or bust!"

A few miles later she saw that both Madeline and Charlie were asleep, Charlie's head in Madeline's lap and Madeline's head against the window. Well, an hour's nap would do Madeline good, she decided. Her thoughts returned to the map and the two lakes near the town that was going to be her new home. "How odd," she mused once more. I wonder what else is odd about that place?"

Follow Up Thoughts on the Perfect Church

I meant yesterday's Friday Five to be lighthearted, mostly, but some of the responses were rather profound. I think some might have been reluctant to play because of having very public blogs--and of course others were outside in the summer sun instead of sitting at a computer keyboard. :-)

Nonetheless, there were some remarkable similarities in Rev Gal longings about the "perfect" church. It doesn't seem to matter all that much whether we are evangelicals, mainline folks, Catholics, Protestants, Pentecostals or Anglicans--we all do have a sense of what the "Body of Christ" -- His Church -- should be in this world. Pondering church can be a little depressing, can't it? We know, and pastors know more than most, just how short we come when we measure up to the ideal. So I decided to post something that was shared with me at the last area minister's group I attended before leaving my congregation. It blessed my heart, and I hope it will bless yours as well. It is by Carlo Coretto, and is from The God Who Comes.

How baffling you are, O Church, and yet how I love you!

How you have made me suffer, and yet how much I owe you.

I should like to see you destroyed, and yet I need your presence.

You have given me so much scandal, and yet you have helped me understand sanctity.

I have seen nothing in the world more devoted to obscurity, more compromised, more false--and I have touched nothing more pure, more generous, more beautiful. How often I have wanted to shut the doors of my soul in your face, and how often I have prayed to die in the safety of your arms.

No, I cannot free myself from you because I am you, although not completely.

And where would I go?

Friday Five at Church

It's my turn to host the F.F. today. Here it is.

Please pardon me for talking about church in the summer when many of you may be on vacation. However, the church we are talking about today is the one you dream of. Tell us five things that the perfect church would have, be, do...whatever.We can dream, right?

ONLY five? Yah, yah...okay...

1. The perfect church has all kinds of music. This means there is a humongous pipe organ, and a piano, and drums, keyboard, guitars, percussion, brass. They sing "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" and they sing praise choruses too (GOOD ones. No "Jesus is my boyfriend...me me me me me...choruses). Once in a while they sing camp meeting songs like "I'll Fly Away" or "Pentecostal Power." There are choirs, a handbell choir, great ensembles, an excellent and rockin' band. Oh yeah, my perfect church has it all and no one complains about music style. Ever!

2. People believe the best about each other. They refuse to gossip or to jump on a negative bandwagon. They never lose hope in the ability of God's grace to transform the human heart...theirs and others as well, so they can believe, trust, and hope as they walk with their fellows.

3. Of course, in this church there is freedom to explore, and that includes making mistakes without fear or guilt. Mistakes are understood to be part of life. There is no condemnation. Correction? Yep. But no condemnation.

4. People are always awake, alert, engaged, and they are not afraid to say "Amen!" when the preacher is doing a really good job. (It goes without saying that the preacher in the perfect church always does a superb job.)

5. The perfect church welcomes, accepts, forgives, affirms, challenges....anyone and I mean anyone is welcome and valued and encouraged to become Jesus' disciple and find their gifts. Of course, there are never but never limitations based on looks, gender, race etc.

Only five. Only five!

About Sunday

UPDATE: Just received a "thanks but, no thanks" email. Will be interesting to see who becomes the new pastor. Still planning on visiting the Episcopal church in that town.

Ken was out of town, so it was Kevin and I who visited the church. Very different in some ways than any church I've been a part of before. Very similar in other ways.

Betsy, the church I visited, after sending in a pastoral resume and application, is right around the corner from the little Episcopal church that I talked to you about in an email. I still haven't been there, and I still know I will...eventually. How strange, however, it seemed that I passed their lovely little building as I was looking for the other church. The town is one that I've said more than once I'd like to live in, and our favorite restaurant is there. Important stuff! LOL

First, the building is a former grocery store, and that is apparent. So no lawn, no flowers, no steeple....and so on. Just a "box" in a parking lot, but nicely painted in green, which went with the church logo (three leaves) and theme of "growing." K. and I sensed a good atmosphere as soon as we got out of the car. People were calling greetings to each other, smiling, walking briskly. We were greeted by seven people between the parking lot and the auditorium, all genuinely friendly and welcoming. There was instant awareness of (the phrase we both used in the car on the way home) "positive energy."

The building was originally designed to be a center for their large youth ministry, and that is still quite evident in the colors and appearance when you walk in, but I think this is a good thing. The entry leads into an inviting "cafe" where many people were having a (free) donut and coffee before church. Again, lots of smiles, conversation, etc. K. and I had a cup of coffee and looked around. Great kids church area...very high tech...but in a good way, it seemed to me. Off to one side near the cafe there is a small basketball court! And video games, ping pong and pool tables, an old pinball machine. Wow!

The "auditorium" (not sanctuary or worship center?) was a little over half full. Someone moved a chair so K.'s wheel chair would not be in the aisle, something he hates, so they made points with K. right off. There was pre service music playing, but very non-traditional, very upbeat praise music. The worship team was YOUNG....really young, but really good. Their worship and media leader is leaving as well as the pastor, so I wonder who will step in? They have a new youth pastor. He and his wife will likely do very well there. I've know them a long time, both attended the AG church we did before we went to Jubilee.

I noted that everything they did seemed to be done well. The words lined up properly on the big screens (oh, of course they had screens!), the bulletin was well-done and colorful and coordinated with the pastor's sermon series logo, no English errors (yay). Everything was contemporary, crisp, clean....and this was good except I found myself wondering if there was any way under Heaven that one could have a candlelight service, an Advent wreath, anything remotely traditional. What I call the "latent Lutheran" part of me would be a bit sad, sometimes, in this auditorium.

There was nothing to indicate that this was a worship space. No symbols, not even a cross, anywhere. But when the worship service began it was "church." Good. Something I liked a great deal was that the worship music included both contemporary praise songs and hymns. Nicely done, and I was aware of God's presence in the place. Very comfortable.

The sanctuary was youthful. At first that was okay, but after a while I found the black and reddish orange walls, the bright yellow and turquoise light panels behind the platform, and the Chinese lanterns to be distracting. The youth group, which is large, does meet in the same space during the week, but I found myself thinking of ways to make the space a bit less garish and still inviting to all. How about shades of green, which would emphasize the theme of "growth" that is part of their mission statement? And I was envisioning a way in incorporate the "leaves" logo into the worship space. Ah, the interior decorator in me is alive and well.

There were many young people, young families, but also some middle-agers and some elderly folks. More than one wheelchair. All in all, it was a very positive experience, though different. Could I be happy there? I think so. I'm okay with many kinds of church experience. Kevin loved the place and wants to go back. :-) He loved the music and the sermon too, though of course their long-time pastor is about to leave.

At one point, however, he looked at me with his hand placed palm-down in front of his face and moved his hand downward saying, "your hope sinks." Later he told me that there were two times he wanted to say something loudly...thankfully he resisted the temptation! (And I knew exactly when those times were, because I felt the same.) Depending on what happens, or doesn't, I may share about that later.

They have received nearly 50 applications. I'm not sure how that all works, since they are a non-denominational congregation.

I think they have a bright future and it is going to be very important who leads them at this point. Praying about that, and for God's will in all of it...

My Continuing Quest

I greatly appreciate those of you who have sent me emails or otherwise have inquired about what I am doing these days and if anything is happening on the employment front. It truly does mean a great deal to know that I'm in the thoughts and prayers of friends near and far!

Here is a brief update. I have not exactly received an enthusiastic response to the brochure I made--though I will continue to contact pastors and others. Not sure whether this is a closed door or just a creaky and slow one.

I did have an interview last week for a job that I could do but increasingly feel I should not do. Mainly I'm hoping they just won't call me back, because part of me does not feel at all good about turning down employment of any kind when the mortgage is needing to be paid.

Ken's brother Kevin is here and settling in fairly well. Ken is out of town for a few days but this Sunday Kevin and I will be visiting a church. This is a stable, charismatic, non-denominational congregation in a town fairly nearby (about 40 minutes away) so it would be possible for me to be a pastor there and Ken still to stay where he is as a chaplain. I did not think I would be pastoring a church, but their long-time pastor took a new ministry position and resigned rather quickly....so...

I'm not sure how to feel about this. I suspect that a resume from a female was likely a surprise. As for not being an Assemblies of God church, if they did extend a call to me I would need permission from the district office--no reason to think that would not happen however. I am NOT counting my chickens before they hatch, so to speak, but I decided that "nothing ventured, nothing gained." Ha--no more cliches. Sorry. ;-)

Kevin and I will be visitors on Sunday just to get a flavor of the place. I have been there, but it was many years ago.

If I have an interview I'll let you know.

Friday Five: Games

I've been a very neglectful blogger lately. Life is intervening. I'm playing the Rev Gals Friday Five today at last. Jan is going to be vacationing with a bunch o' family members and kids, and so she is thinking about games.

1. Childhood games?

Growing up in California meant lots of time outdoors. We played the usual stuff, Red Light-Green Light, Mother May I, tag, hide and seek, and so on. My favorite was one we called Statue Maker. Someone turned and swung others in a circle till dizziness ensued, than let go. The idea was to freeze in whatever pose one landed, and then we would guess what the resulting strange pose looked most like--or something like that!

2. Favorite and/or most hated board games?

We didn't play games much at my house, but occasionally we'd break out the Parcheesi board, or (of course) Monopoly. I still remember every American child's first board game, Candyland!

3. Card games?

Card games? Horrors! Cards were evil, don'cha know! I never played with a regular card deck till I was in college. We did play with other types of card decks. See the next question.

4. Travel/car games?

Travelling from California to Texas in the days of no car air conditioning was not pleasant. My sisters and I would pass the time and try to ignore the desert heat by hours of Old Maid (I did not like that one), Hearts, and my favorite--a game I wish I'd had for my kids, Authors. Authors was about famous writers and their works, and the cards featured very nice portraits of the authors. I can still see Louisa Mae Alcott, Mark Twain, James Fennimore Cooper, and I still can list most of what they wrote. Great game! At least the little bookworm me certainly thought so!

5. Adult pastimes that are not video games?

Unlike my family, my husband's family did play games, so when we had children we did as well. Our favorite is an ancient game from China, Mah Jong (nothing at all like the Internet version) and we play with an antique set. Part of the enjoyment of the game is the look and feel of the intricately carved ivory and teak wood tiles.

Bonus: Any ideas for family vacations or gatherings?

So many, but alas, I must get off the computer.

My Aunt Pauline--the End of an Era

Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of those faithful to him. Proverbs 116:15

My mother's sister, my Aunt Pauline, has gone to be with God.

The picture above is my sister, Paulette, our Aunt Pauline, and me. It was taken in January when Paulette and I were in Texas and on our way to our mother's funeral. Dear Pauline was sad she could not make the trip, but she was glad we had managed to spend a little time with her. Like my mother, Pauline was one of those wonderful "steel magnolias" that the south is known for, women who are gracious, charming, always ladylike--and strong. I've written on this blog about my mother's Texas family and how influential they were in our lives. They seemed like a Norman Rockwell illustration to us, and now the last one is gone.

My grandfather once travelled on a wagon train. He had a scar on his wrist that he told us grand kids was the reminder of a wound from an Indian arrow. (I was disappointed to later learn that it had actually been caused by a childhood fall into an empty cistern.) During the depression my mother and her siblings picked cotton in the fields during the summer, along with "Papa" and Mexican laborers. Papa, was an astute farmer, however. Over the years he increased his land holdings and eventually became a man of some means. He and my grandmother were the parents of eight children, two boys and six girls. Both boys went off to war in Europe and both came home safe again to "the family."

How we loved our Texas relatives! We were the California contingent, my dad having relocated to work at Lockheed Aircraft during World War II. The family was close-knit, supportive, loving, God-fearing folks. If one was in the hospital or in some sort of trouble, the others were there. The women raised smart children (seriously!), kept clean homes and cooked wonderful meals. Except for my mother, they lived in Texas all their lives. Five of them remained in the same small town.

Pauline loved to paint. One of her paintings hangs in my living room and another hangs in the hallway. Pauline taught Sunday School at First Baptist for decades. She was the best cook I ever knew. My mother was a wonderful cook too, as all the sisters were, but Pauline was a genius in the kitchen. Her dishes were homespun, but they were all fabulous. At about age eight, I ate so much of her tomato soup I almost made myself sick. My mother's recipe box, now mine, contains dozens of recipes that are designated, "Pauline's."

Pauline had married my dad's cousin, "Pee Wee." Pauline and Pee Wee lived on a farm, and after they grew more affluent they turned the little house into a lovely brick ranch-style home. Later, she nursed Uncle Pee Wee through blindness and then a brain tumor, sitting at his bedside for hours as he lost his sweet personality, then his senses, and then slowly died. It was agonizing for Aunt Pauline, as was the tragic and untimely death of her only son. Through it all, she kept her head high. She also kept her faith in God, her love of her family, her pride in her grandchildren, and later great-grandchildren, as well as her zest for life. Her clothes were always lovely and fashionable, her hair "coiffed" weekly at the beauty shop, and her makeup tastefully applied.

Years ago, when my mother got "strange" my Aunt Pauline was the one sibling who really believed my father's heartbreaking and shocking stories of what life with Leta had become, but she never stopped believing the best for her sister. My dad loved her for that, and he stayed friends with Pauline and Pee Wee till he died, even after my parent's strange and sad divorce.

My mother disappeared for several years, a sad and bizarre story. When my late sister, Darlaine, located her in a California "board and care" home, a frail shadow who at aged 55 looked about 95, it was her brother, C.G. who convinced her to come home to Texas. It was exactly the right thing for her to do, and she regained much of who she was, teaching the Bible, leading a prayer group, and working in a little clothing store until (at age 85) she finally retired. Her family had welcomed her home, and my mother was there as one by one her siblings grew older and passed away and only she and Pauline remained. My mother lived in Texas for about 30 years until she finally grew frail and forgetful and came to live with us. Not long afterwards, Pauline relocated to an assisted living facility in Ft. Worth near her daughter, Shirley.

The sisters' last good bye broke our hears as the two elderly women, both still lovely, embraced for what would be the last time. They wept, knowing this. I got teary-eyed too. They had grown very close in their older years, sharing prayer, dinners, shopping and trips to the doctor.

For some time Pauline has lived on "borrowed time." She pulled through things that would have finished off a weaker person, and for several years she lived, unaccountably, with only about one-third of her heart intact. She lost her eyesight too, and she was no longer able to cook or to paint. She told me it was hard to leave her hometown behind and move to Ft. Worth. but she stayed positive, calling my mother at least once a week to check on her and hear the latest from faraway Wisconsin. She knew Leta was "mentally failing" but it still hurt Pauline when she heard of my mother's stroke and subsequent move to the nursing home. No more phone calls.

Recently Pauline had grown more vague in her thinking, but for someone in her nineties she remained remarkably lucid and interested in family, politics, the news, etc. She was sad to be unable to attend my mother's funeral, and Paulette and I cried as we looked at the beautiful spray by my mother's casket that simply said, "Sister." Pauline had won the rather macabre contest as to who would survive to be the last of Papa and Mama's brood.

We have one aunt in-law remaining, but the last of my mother's remarkable family of origin is gone. To the end she remained faithful to God, concerned about her hair and makeup, fashionable, and connected to those she loved. I like to imagine that she is having a wonderful family reunion now.

But to me it feels like the end of an era. How can it possibly be that all of them are gone?

A Wonderful Tribute to My Husband

Ken recently retired from working with Royal Ranger (a boys ministry). At least, he retired from doing it on a regular basis. He has also served as the president of a group within Rangers called Frontiersmen Camping Fellowship. They pick a fur trade era persona, and they have lots of fun learning frontier skills along with the spiritual stuff. This is actually how we got started in Rendezvous (fur trade) play acting, since he decided that the gear was so expensive we'd better use it at secular gatherings as well.

This was recently published in their newsletter, and since Ken never blows his own horn (and doesn't often have someone else blow it for him) I am copying it here.

A Tribute To Our Outgoing President, Bearded Eagle

Heart. This is the first thing that came to mind when I was asked to say something about Ken (Bearded Eagle). He is the "mountain" in mountain man, not just in stature but in heart. Royal Rangers is just a part of Kens ministry. Doing God's work is his life, joy and substance. Ken can yell at you and you thought he paid you a complement, and the job was done better for it. I have run into men here in Milwaukee...one asked if I knew Ken George. I said, "You bet I do." The man said, "Commander Ken led me to Christ, and that changed my life. Tell Ken I said thanks." I don't know his name but he works at Sam's on HWY 100 and National, so if you are there and wearing a Ranger shirt he will probably say it to you too.

Most of you know Ken works...as a chaplain counseling both the young and the old men in prison...These men will do anything for Ken, and do it with joy. When you are in Ken's camp you can't help but notice the wooden table, chairs and kitchen sitting in front of his lodge. Most of these were made by...[inmates]. He has made a strong impact for Christ Jesus on their lives also.

Generosity is the next word that comes to mind. When you enter Bearded Eagle's camp there is always a place to rest your bones, sit and talk a spell. His camp has every thing he needs and everything others need. Just bring it back when you are done. Bearded Eagle doesn't bring all these extra things for his use; he brings them for anyone else who needs them. A lot of [the gear that the district FCF] has was given to us by Bearded Eagle. For the past 6 years so much more has been implemented to make our chapter what it is today. Bearded Eagle has the spirit that, "If it can be better, let's do it better and make it better." That is what he has always tried to do and will still do as long as he is able...

Persevere. Some of us will grow old, some gracefully some not. Some of us will never get the chance to grow old. But if you do, look at Ken. In spite of what his body is going through, he still tries to make every event. Ken wore a foot cast most of last year, and he kept up with everyone else--or he was ahead of every one else. (Right now his leg is in bad shape and he needs healing from Jesus so keep him in your daily prayers so he can continue to join us in all of our activities.)

If you need something that Ken has he will gift it, sell it, or trade it...use Ken as the example and keep on going and stand strong. When you feel you can't, continue to stand firm and keep going. It may not be graceful, but he keeps on going, never gives up, never surrenders, always perseveres.

Ken has big shoes to fill, and I am glad I don't have to be the one to fill them. In the past 6 years FCF has become more exciting, challenging, and fun to both teach and be a part of...Ken answers to...God, and each of his ministries are God-centered and inspired. A program is man-centered; a ministry is God-centered. Ken has ministries.

Respectfully Submitted -

"Midnight Bear"

Litttle Big Foot: Stained Glass

If you would like to start at the beginning of the "Little Big Foot" story, click on the link at the bottom of this post or the one in the sidebar. When you are redirected, scroll down to the bottom of the page.

If you would like to hear Keith Green's song "Stained Glass," click here.

Dee Anna, wearing loafers, blue jeans and a green t-shirt, sat alone in the silent sanctuary of Eastside Methodist Church. She had finished packing the last box of books from her office, and she was tired. She had received several offers of help, but she had wanted to finish that particular packing job alone.

Splashes of color from a nearby window cascaded across the carpet and over the window sill, turning the rays of sun into a work of art all their own.

Dee Anna smiled, picturing the mosaic of color as tiny angels who had come to encourage and comfort her. She giggled aloud when she realized that the angels she was envisioning looked a lot like the three plump fairy godmothers in Walt Disney's classic film,"Sleeping Beauty."

Leaning against the hard back of the pew, she closed her eyes with a long sigh. The melody and words of a Keith Green song drifted through her thoughts.

We are like windows,

the bright colors of the rainbow...

She remembered how she used to listen to Keith Green as she studied in the little dorm room she shared with a preacher's daughter from San Antonio. It was her freshman year of college. Her roommate had been a very devout and outspoken girl who often talked about sin and the need for a national revival. Dee Anna hadn't liked that so much, because it had reminded her of her father. Still, she and her roommate had shared a love of music and of Keith's passionate longing for holiness and a spiritual awaking in the churches of America. In those days Dee Anna had been an idealistic fundamentalist, a young woman who thought she would change the world as soon as someone gave her a chance. She would share the love of Jesus with children, and she would have a lasting impact on young hearts and minds.

She had passionately believed that each person is a unique and beautiful creation of God. She still believed that, she acknowledged to herself. She had also believed that all that was necessary to flourish was to be saved, pray hard, and read the Bible every day.

It was a long time since she had believed that.

She had tried to take the good things from her childhood with her and leave the bad ones behind. The problem was, she thought sadly, the bad things just wouldn't stay put back in her home town. They drifted into her dorm room, her children's church classroom, the seminary library as she worked on her thesis. They followed her to Dallas as she attempted to forget all she had been taught. They floated with her as she prayed at midnight in a downtown Catholic church, and they had even managed to drift northward to Madison.

Like the colors from the stained glass, they tinted her life. But the tints were not lovely. They were gray and black and dark blue, and the shadows lurked, sometimes just out of sight, but always there.

We are like windows

Stained with colors of the rainbow

Set in a darkened room

Till the bridegroom comes to shine...

She opened her eyes and looked up towards the altar area with its stained glass portrayal of Jesus as the shepherd. No stained glass at North Woods Chapel, she thought, but there are sheep. People in need of peace, in need of encouragement, in need of God's amazing grace. She recalled the unusual stillness she had experienced as she sat on the bed in the parsonage and again as she had stood in the pulpit. She wondered about the awareness she has sensed of tired, weary people. Had that really been God? Did God really think she was the one to help them?

She spoke into the stillness, as a long-ago pastor's face swam into her memory, an elderly man who had loved the 23rd Psalm and had taken a kindly notice of the little girl with red hair.

"The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He maketh me lie to lie down in green pastures,

he leadeth me beside still waters,
he restoreth my soul."

She would miss looking at the picture, she thought. She sang softly to herself and to the imaginary cluster of angels who frolicked on the windowsills and carpeting.

My colors grow so dim

When I start to fall away from Him

But up comes the strongest wind

That He sends to blow me back into his arms again

Ah, the wind, she mused. The ruach of God, the breath, the soft brush of air, or the mighty rushing wind. Thank you, Lord, for your sweet Spirit who never leaves me or forsakes me. I do not deserve your care over me, but I thank you for it. She stood and moved to the aisle.

We are His daughters and sons

We are the colorful ones

We are the kids of the King

Rejoice in everything...

And then the colors fall around my feet

Over those I meet

Changing all the gray that I see

Rainbow colors of the Risen Son

Reflect the One

The One who came to set us all free.

Are God's colors falling across those I meet? Have I really made an impact for the Kingdom of God in this place? Dee Anna wondered, thinking that it was certainly true that the spiritual hues of Eastside's people had fallen across her.

She moved to the steps that led to the altar area. Stopping, she gazed at her familiar surroundings. "I love this place, God" she said aloud, not sure if she was happy or unhappy that it was so. It just is, she thought. It just is.

She ran her palm along the altar rail, loving the soft sheen of it, the smooth surface, the memories of sharing the bread and cup as she stood at this spot. She went up to the pulpit and stood behind it, gazing without really seeing the empty sanctuary. Instead she saw her congregation--the "colorful ones" of this place. Closing her eyes once again, she saw the sanctuary as it had been yesterday.

The children were in the service because it was her last Sunday as Eastside's pastor. Some were restless, but some watched her intently. She sat on the steps and had the children gather around on the floor as she shared a last children's sermon and told them she was proud of them. Many of the children had hugged her before returning to their seats, and that had brought a lump to her throat.

She also remembered that her daughter Madeline's face had worn a sad expression. She had sat next to Melanie, her best friend. Melanie and Madeline, the two "M's." A smile passed over Dee Anna's face as she thought of Melanie's crop of braids, each with a pink bow, her shining smile, her smooth dark brown skin. The two girls had hugged each other and cried after church, and

Dee Anna had promised that Melanie could come up for a visit.

Melanie was the granddaughter of Leroy the gardener. Leroy was a life-long Southern Baptist and had told Dee Anna he would die a Baptist, but his daughter, Kendra, had come to Eastside as a pregnant single woman. She had sat across from Pastor Dee Anna in her office, twisting her hands nervously as she shared how far she had come from what her mama had taught her. She was involved with a man who was "no good for me," she had related, and she had said to Dee Anna, "I tried to talk to the pastor at Daddy's church, but it just didn't work. Daddy Leroy told me to come talk to the nice associate pastor at Eastside."

Michael and Dee Anna had reached out to the young woman, not sure how she would be received by the members of their all-white congregation. It was not an easy time, and leaving the boyfriend had been tumultuous, but the mother-to-be had stuck to her declaration to "turn things around for this baby that's coming." As it turned out, Kendra had quickly won the hearts of almost everyone with her quick smile and her willingness to pitch in and help wherever she was needed. After a few months, others of Leroy's family had drifted in, and Leroy had begun to attend Eastside about half the time. "I didn't know how I'd take to hearin' a woman preachin' the Word," he had admitted to Dee Anna, but I surely do like you, anyhow."

She was happy that the once all-Anglo congregation now had a sprinkling of others--a few Hispanics, Asians, a Hmong family, and a group of Nigerians, several of whom worked at the University of Wisconsin.

As she stood feeling a bittersweet kind of thankfulness, she continued to picture the individuals who made up the congregation of Eastside. Funny how church people always tend to sit in the same pew, she mused. Some had been challenging, to be sure. Some had left the congregation after Michael died and she had become the pastor. Others had loved her with an openness that had surprised her.

Not everyone had been overjoyed when their attractive young pastor had married a relative newcomer, but most had been glad to see he had found love again after the tragic deaths of his wife and parents. When he had been killed, the people had mourned with his wife and young daughter, bringing food, sometimes little gifts for Madeline, and volunteering to help however they could. They had, for the most part, been patient as Dee Anna put the pieces of her life back together, even as they, too, grieved the loss of their charismatic and and likable minister. She had been surprised and grateful when they had asked her to stay on as their pastor.

"Only Mrs. Herndon probably had a clue just how bad it was," Dee Anna thought, picturing her dear friend on the right hand side, about half way back. "God, bless that precious woman. How could I ever repay her many kind deeds?"

We are like windows

Stained with colors of the rainbow

No longer set in a darkened room

Cause the bridegroom wants to shine from you

No longer set in a darkened room

Cause the bridegroom wants to shine from you.

Dee Anna opened her eyes and wiped them with a tissue from the box she always stashed in the pulpit. She suddenly realized that the muscles of her legs were stiff and getting stiffer. "Too many boxes, too many books, too much squatting" she thought, reaching down to massage her calf. As she did, her gaze fell on Michael's Bible where it rested on a small inner shelf of the pulpit. It was a warm brown leather with gilt-edged pages. She had given it to him for his birthday the first year they were married. After he had died she left it in the pulpit, somehow feeling that a part of him remained at Eastside--with her-- at the pulpit. She bent and removed it from the shelf, caressing the gold letters of the name that she had requested be embossed on the cover.

Michael David Hanson

"How could I have not packed this?" she chided herself. She suddenly, and quite unexpectedly felt a shrp stab of something like panic, and then a wave of sorrow that seemed to flow like hot liquid from her feet up to her chest.

Shocking her, tears began to flow and a quiet sob soon turned to gasps that turned to groans. "Oh, Michael. I miss you. How can I not stand in your church, your pulpit, how can I not open the pages of your Bible to share the sermon with your congregation? How can I leave this place where you helped me find God, find hope, once again?"

She knelt behind the pulpit, grasping the Bible to her chest and sobbing. She remained on the floor, splatters of light falling around her until slowly the torrent of tears lessened and her sobs grew softer. It had been a long time since her grief had felt so raw, so fresh. A bit shakily, she grasped the sides of the pulpit as she stood to her feet and took a long breath.

The colorful "angels" were gone. It was getting darker in the church, and she knew Mrs Herndon and Madeline would be waiting with supper at Mrs. Herndon's little home. She would spend the night there and then they would begin the trip north.

She turned to the stained glass portrayal of Jesus the Good Shepherd. "I will see you in Little Big Foot, okay, Lord?" She gulped back the last of her tears as a chuckle escaped her lips.

Walking to the door that led to the hallway she glanced back for the final time at the pulpit, awash in the dimly waning light of a late-summer sunset.

"Good bye, dear Eastside. Good bye, Michael, my love. It really is time for me to move on."