The woman I love

I have a little silver colored heart on my desk, as I write this, that has a wire that turns into a spiral so you can put a picture on it. And on it is a picture of the woman I love--Bern. She is probably in her 30's in the photo, smiling, wearing a white top, her hair is shoulder length--longer and shorter than it has been in all these years. We've known each other since 1964 and been married since 1970. 51 years of 'knowing each other' and 45 years of marriage.

I'm not yet sure how that happened, how I have been that blessed, to know this woman I love so long and to have been married to her so long. We have two children, both of whom are wondrous, and three granddaughters who are wondrous as well. What star was in what alignment to give us this gift?

I look at that picture on my desk a lot, remembering how blessed I am.

For Christmas each year, Bern does a piece of art for me and I write her something.

Here's what I wrote for her two years ago. I hope you see from it how blessed and lucky I am.

For Bern for Christmas 2013

WHAT WE NEED TO DO

What we need to do, you and I,

Is love each other forever.

We're almost half-way there

from that night under the bleachers

in, what was it? 1964?

That's just under half-a-century, right there!

Forever isn't that far away, given how Time

tends to speed up when you age

to the age we are now.

Do you remember the score

that night?

Or even who Gary High was playing?

I certainly don't.

All I remember—and remember quite well--

is how I was trembling

as I held you

and kissed you

for most of four quarters

of a High School football game.

We've made it this far,

a long way, all said and done,

so why not go for Forever?

It's not always been easy sailing

but the sea of life is seldom calm.

But we've endured, survived, even thrived

in all these years...all these long years

that seem shorter, each one,

the longer we go on.

No one has ever done it,

in my knowledge,

been in love forever,

I mean.

But new things have to happen

all the time or else

everything would start running

backwards.

It's not been easy—but who said

'it would be easy'--

but more ups than downs,

more wonder than disappointment,

more hope than despair.

I think that at least,

and hope you do.

There are these two children we made

and you birthed

and we fretted over for so many years.

There are those two--

more ups than downs with them too,

more wonder than disappointment,

more hope than despair.

That too, I think,

requires a shot at Forever.

(I often can't believe I've lived

as long as I have.

Yet I have.)

There is no way to deny Time.

I just did the math,

(how silly is that?)

and through division

realized I've known you

and loved you exactly

69.1% of my whole, long life.

Jeezie peezie, that's a long time!

About half way to Forever.

So, why don't we go for it,

as best we can, getting older every day,

to make it to Forever?

We've made it this far,

why not forget about 'the Home'

and just decide that

this is this.

Like FOREVER.

It would be more ups than downs,

more wonder than disappointments,

more hope than despair,

just like it's been half-way-to-Forever

already.

So, how 'bout it? We can talk about it later.....

Fried cabbage

Fried cabbage was a staple in my youth. Everyone on both sides of my family fried cabbage and loved it.

I remember this because Bern is downstairs frying cabbage and apples to go with the chili she's made for dinner. (If I lived to be an old, old man, I don't think I would have ever paired fried cabbage with chili, but it's Bern's night to cook and I'm sure it will be fine. I love fried cabbage.)

Bern, who grew up 12 miles from me--she in a Hungarian/Italian family and me in a 'Sager' household. (It was from Bern that I learned ethnic families referred to white bread, British Isles people like me as "Sagers" because of our propensity to use sage in lots of things.) But both households fried cabbage a lot.

It got me to thinking, do folks in New England fry cabbage?

I've lived here since 1980 and have never heard anyone mention eating fried cabbage. Maybe it's just that folks don't think it is something for polite conversation. There is an odor to it that smells much like my dog's farts. But it does taste so good.

How about you? You a fried cabbage guy or gal?

I know it's not Pentecost...

I found this sermon, looking for something else, and though I only vaguely remember it, I think it's something someone might need to hear.

PENTECOST 2014/Emmanuel, Killingworth

Fear always says “no”.

If you’re going to remember anything I say this morning—remember this: FEAR ALWAYS SAYS “NO.”

And remember this as well: GOD SAYS “YES” TO US….

****

Jesus’ friends were gathered in the same room they’d been using to hide. How many were there isn’t clear. The book of Acts says 120—though that number may be high. They huddled together, still frightened that the Temple authorities might be after them, still grieving in some way—though they had seen the Risen Lord time and again, felt his breath upon their faces—and, most…most of all, they were terribly, wrenchingly lonely.

Jesus had promised them they would be clothed in power. Jesus had promised them he would send an Advocate to be with them. Jesus had promised them they would be baptized in Fire. Jesus had promised them he was already preparing a place for them.

But the promises seemed like so much pie crust to the disciples. They were still waiting for the promises to be fulfilled. They were frightened. And they were so lonely—so profoundly lonely.

****

That image…that metaphor…that paradigm of being crowded into a lonely, frightening room rings true for us today.

Fear haunts us these days. And though we huddle together in our fear, we are still so profoundly lonely. Fear speaks but one word and that word is “NO”.

Our faith teaches us to be hospitable to strangers—but our Fear says “no” and we distrust those who are different from us.

Our faith teaches us to be compassionate—but our Fear says “no” and we ignor the 'least of these' in our midst.

Our faith teaches us to share our gifts with those in need—but our Fear says “no” and we live in the richest nation in the history of human kind where the gap between the rich and the poor gets wider every day.

Our faith teaches us that “a little child shall lead us” and that we must become like children to enter the Kingdom of God—but our Fear says “no” as millions of children go underfed, under educated and neglected around the world and in our country.

Remember this: Fear always says “NO”.

****

There is no easy or simple way to explain it, what happened in that closed and fearful room on the first Pentecost—it happened like this: one moment the room was full of fear and the next moment the room was full of fire and a mighty wind fanned the flames until the fear was burned away and all that was left was hope and joy and those formerly frightened people “found their voices” and left their hiding place and spoke words that transformed the world.

We need the Fires of Pentecost to burn away our fears and the Winds of Pentecost to blow away our loneliness. We need the Spirit to give us our voices so we may proclaim the “Yes” of God to this world.

Fear always says “NO”—but God always says “Yes”….

We need a Pentecost. We need to know that God says “Yes” to us. That God calls us to wonder and joy and love and compassion and hospitality. And not just in the “big things”—God’s “Yes” to us is about “little things” too. God’s “Yes” to us is global, universal, total.

This is a poem by Kaylin Haught titled God Says Yes to Me. It is a Pentecost poem, whether she knew it or not.

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly what you want to

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

Who knows where she picked that up

What I’m telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

What Pentecost is about is God saying “Yes” to you and you and you and you and you and all of us. What Pentecost is about is the Spirit coming so we are never, ever, not ever lonely again.

What Pentecost is about is Fire burning away Fear.

What Pentecost is about—and listen carefully, this is important—Pentecost is about God saying to you and you and you and you and you and all of us:

Sweetcakes, what I’m telling you is Yes Yes Yes.

Your children never cease to amaze you....

We were down in Baltimore last week and Josh asked me, "are you still teaching that Gnostic Christian stuff?"

I told him I was (and was amazed he remembered my interest in Gnostic Christians) when he said, "have you used the Secret Book of John yet?"

I was blown away. "How do you know about the Secret Book of John?" I asked.

"I've read most of that Nag Hammadi stuff," he said, "the Secret Book of John is my favorite. The 'Apocrophon'," he added, "what a great word...."

My son has read the ancient texts of Gnostic Christians and thinks 'Apocrophon' is a great word!!!

So we talked about the Secret book of John, written in Greek before 178, because it is mentioned by Ireanaeus in his diatribe against heresy that was written in that year. Then it was found, in a Coptic translation, in the late 1940's in Egypt along with 50 or so other early Christian texts.

And Josh knows about it.

I thought the fact that he goes to the Episcopal Cathedral with my grand-daughters is amazing enough to me. Priest kids hardly ever keep going to church. I credit Cathy Chen, his wife, who grew up without any practice of religion, for making that happen.

But to know Josh has read the Nag Hammadi literature and can converse about it effortlessly absolutely blows me away.

Kids. What can you say. They always amaze....

meetings

Of all the things an Episcopal priest has to do, the most onerous is 'meetings'. Meetings can ruin a perfectly good day and throw everything out of whack.

But not in the Middlesex Area Cluster Ministry. Meetings here get everything done that needs to be done and don't last long. Tonight we had a Cluster Council Meeting that lasted a few minutes under an hour and had reports from all three churches, my report as Interim Missioner, the treasurer's report and approval of the 2016 budget, the Cluster Administrator's report, old business and new business and prayer at the beginning and the end. And I got home in time to see much of The Voice.

Nothing wrong with that. Painless meetings make the world go 'round a little sweeter.

The people on the Council are wonderful. Engaged, committed and on target. Just the way it should be and makes me happy.

(Maybe I think 'the way it should be' is synonymous with 'what makes me happy'....)

Even that isn't a bad thing.

My 'being happy' is a good thing.

I also think the people on the Council are 'happy' about how meetings go.

We hadn't had one since September and will be skipping December since we passed the budget tonight.

How good is that?

Plus, since the Cluster works different than 'normal' Episcopal bodies, I don't have to lead the meetings. That too is a good thing.

What a joy this job is!

Everything I love about being a priest and no need to lead meetings.

Maybe I do believe in heaven and this is it.....

"Commit simple acts of kindness"

I never really got that bumper sticker until late this afternoon when I went to Stop and Shop to get a mailer folder to send a tee-shirt to Kathy Haines in Washington DC.

Kathy and her parents were members of St. John's when I was there for all those 21 years. I saw her grow from a young child to a young woman. She finished college, did a stint in the Peace Corps, got at master's degree in public policy and is now in DC working for a non-profit that is seeking to eliminate homelessness.

I knew all along that she would turn out that way. She's an only child, like I was, and has some heartbreak ahead as her parents age. But for now she is fighting the good fight, trying to make a difference in the world, holding her own against cynicism and despair in the world.

She called me a few days ago to see if I had any of the St. John's Parish tee-shirts we had made back when I was Rector there.

In the middle of an adult confirmation class, this guy named Jim asked me: "what will we be after this class is over?"

And I told him, without hesitation: "Spiritual Rebels and Dangerous Mystics." Which is exactly what I hoped for. It is a phrase from my work with the Mastery Foundation. One of the designers of the course said that's what we should be shooting for in the Making a Difference Workshop--Spiritual Rebels and Dangerous Mystics.

So, we had tee-shirts made with the eagle of St. John's on the left front and that phrase on the back.

Kathy's mother had thrown her's away and here she was, a decade and more later, wanting one.

Good outcome there. I had a few and found the smallest one--Kathy is a tiny woman--which was still a Large but not x-large or xx-large like the rest I had.

So, I mailed it to her today, delighted she wanted to carry on the cause. She's a member of an Episcopal Church in DC--very left-wing and progressive--and is even on the Search Committee for a new Rector, she told me.

So I went to Stop and Shop to get a mailer folder for the tee-shirt and was behind an elderly woman (check last post--I'm still middle-aged!) who stopped to pick up a Stop and Shop handout someone had thrown away in the parking lot. She put it in the trash and I followed her inside and tapped her on the shoulder.

"I just wanted to tell you that I know you're a good person for picking up that paper. A hundred people had probably walked past it before you picked it up," I said.

She grabbed my hand and blossomed. She was almost, I believe, near tears. "Thank you so much," she said, "for saying that. Sometimes I wonder if anyone notices the things I try to do to  make the world better."

That woman and Kathy, doing things to try to make the world better. Kathy's task of doing away with homelessness in the nation's capitol is certainly more daunting than picking up trash. But none the less, both woman are making an effort few make.

Commit a simple act of kindness every day. I now get how much a difference it can make.

And be a Spiritual Rebel and Dangerous Mystic as well--that would make a difference all around....

middle-age just got longer

I read a story on line about how whoever decides such things has declared that middle-aged in America now lasts through 68!

Imagine my surprise--I'm still middle-aged!

And here I thought I'd entered the golden years.

Well, first of all, when I'm sitting here in my comfortable desk chair typing, I don't feel much different than I did at 45 or 40 or even 35. But when Bern calls me for dinner in just a bit (it's her night to cook) I'll get up and feel considerably older than 35 when I walk down the back stairs to get my plate and both knees ache a bit.

And, second of all, when I try to remember who it was in the article that decreed I'm still middle-aged, I come up with a blank--at 40, I could have told you in a heart-beat.

So, still being middle-aged is a bit of a high (since it's been decades since I smoked anything that made me high, it feels good). Until I get up and feel my knees and can't remember a phone number I dial several times a week.

I'll honor whoever decides such thing and be middle-aged for another year. But come April 17, 2016, I'm going to complain about my joints and admit I can't remember like I used to.

Come on 'golden years', I'll be ready for you in April.....