My uncle Woody died yesterday. I received the news in a text from my mother, his sister. Interesting way to receive the news about the death of a family member - even one I have had no contact with for many years. Funny how that happens! For years, I saw my Uncle annually when we made the trip to the Bluefield area where my grandparents and my mother's siblings lived. After my grandfather died and Granny moved to Delaware to live with our family, I saw him infrequently, only when a significant celebration was held for my grandmother. I guess notification by text seemed fair enough.
On this day after, here are my initial memories, all fond: Uncle Woody was always an earthy kind of guy, a coal miner, who smoked cigars. He was the first adult in my life to tease me. He loved teasing all his nieces and nephews. Some of us gave him the response he wanted, while others ignored him; but all of us knew that he loved us! As ancient as these memories are, they are still clear, even today.
By text I have learned that Uncle Woody's funeral will be held on Tuesday, most likely. With no clear idea of when the service will be, I cannot even consider attending; so between now and then, I plan on doing what I would do if I were officiating at such a service. I will reflect upon my memories of my Uncle's life, consider what scripture I would use, and write something in memory of him. Even though I am 57, it will be written through the eyes of a child, a child who loved her Uncle Woody.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Do We Expect to Hear from God?
In every daughter's life, there has to be at least one life-altering lesson she learns from her mother. I have given a great deal of thought to this lately as, in my late '50s, I have felt compelled to take a deep look at my life-long relationship with my parents and their lasting influence on me.
For some daughters, the most significant lessons they learn from their mothers have to do with gender specific roles. I did not learn how to manicure my nails from my mother, even though her nails always seem perfectly manicured to me. I did not learn how to care for my hair from my mother. I did not learn how to be a "girly-girl" from my mother, even though I suspect she is just that! Most of what I learned about clothes and makeup and hair and other such things came from my oldest sister, who had a great distain for the way I presented myself as we were growing up and always let me know; close friends in early adulthood and now who encouraged me; a daughter whose fashion sense is delightful; and a husband who has complimented me from the first day of our marriage each time I came home with a new outfit.
The major life-lesson my mother taught me goes much deeper than mere appearance and has served as a foundational value for me. My mother taught me the importance of praying, of having an intentional daily relationship with God in which there is the expectation that in the act of making myself present to the Holy, God, in return, will speak to me, will guide me, will make God's desires known to me.
My mother taught me this lesson so well that when God spoke audibly to me, calling me into ministry, in February of 1981, I recognized God's voice and answered "yes." It was not a stretch for me to believe that it was the voice of the Divine. It had been modeled for me in my parents' home as I was growing up. Little did I know that it was one of those transformative teachings.
Often I hear people debate whether God speaks in the 21st century. Because of the life-lesson taught to me by my mother, I personally have no doubts and, until I remember that everyone did not grow up with my mother, I am amazed that anyone would have such low expectations of God.
I have learned that if I am to hear from God, I have to prepare a place in me to receive what is being spoken to me. I do this through silently reflecting on the sacred stories of the Bible, by disciplined prayer, by inviting others to pray for me, through communal worship, and by growing more space in each day to listen for the voice of God. Some days I am better at this than others. Engrained deeply within my heart and soul and mind is this life-altering lesson taught to me by my mother. I cannot get away from it. It lives within me, this expectation that God will speak to me, to others, and to the world! Thank you, Mom, for teaching this lesson!
For some daughters, the most significant lessons they learn from their mothers have to do with gender specific roles. I did not learn how to manicure my nails from my mother, even though her nails always seem perfectly manicured to me. I did not learn how to care for my hair from my mother. I did not learn how to be a "girly-girl" from my mother, even though I suspect she is just that! Most of what I learned about clothes and makeup and hair and other such things came from my oldest sister, who had a great distain for the way I presented myself as we were growing up and always let me know; close friends in early adulthood and now who encouraged me; a daughter whose fashion sense is delightful; and a husband who has complimented me from the first day of our marriage each time I came home with a new outfit.
The major life-lesson my mother taught me goes much deeper than mere appearance and has served as a foundational value for me. My mother taught me the importance of praying, of having an intentional daily relationship with God in which there is the expectation that in the act of making myself present to the Holy, God, in return, will speak to me, will guide me, will make God's desires known to me.
My mother taught me this lesson so well that when God spoke audibly to me, calling me into ministry, in February of 1981, I recognized God's voice and answered "yes." It was not a stretch for me to believe that it was the voice of the Divine. It had been modeled for me in my parents' home as I was growing up. Little did I know that it was one of those transformative teachings.
Often I hear people debate whether God speaks in the 21st century. Because of the life-lesson taught to me by my mother, I personally have no doubts and, until I remember that everyone did not grow up with my mother, I am amazed that anyone would have such low expectations of God.
I have learned that if I am to hear from God, I have to prepare a place in me to receive what is being spoken to me. I do this through silently reflecting on the sacred stories of the Bible, by disciplined prayer, by inviting others to pray for me, through communal worship, and by growing more space in each day to listen for the voice of God. Some days I am better at this than others. Engrained deeply within my heart and soul and mind is this life-altering lesson taught to me by my mother. I cannot get away from it. It lives within me, this expectation that God will speak to me, to others, and to the world! Thank you, Mom, for teaching this lesson!
Friday, January 6, 2012
Finger Pointing
We live in a world where finger pointing is a part of the daily menu of life. One only has to tune in to the national political conversations, from Iowa to New Hampshire to South Carolina, to hear the accusations flying, the fingers pointing. It seems to happen naturally as candidates seek to differentiate themselves, one from the other. Some could say that I am pointing the finger at these candidates as I write. Just goes to show how easily it happens!
Five days with my great-niece Margot, who is approximately a year and a half, has shown me that finger pointing can have a positive connotation. Whenever she cannot find the precise word in her vocabulary to fit the situation, or does not feel like making the effort to come up with necessary words, she simply points her finger. If she wants someone to move to a particular place in the room or upstairs or outside, she points her fingers. If she needs more water, she stands in front of the fridge, points her finger, and looks authoritatively at the adult she decides should get her drink, and the deal is sealed! If she wants to join you on the sofa, she points her finger at the place she wants to sit and someone places her there. If she wants to be read to, she points her finger at her book and someone responds. When Margot points her finger, she is not trying to be bossy; she is asking for someone to work with her, to help her do the things that she cannot yet do on her own.
I love my great-niece's concept of finger pointing! What if we embodied this concept? What if, instead of accusing others, finger pointing became about helping others do the things that they cannot do on their own? What if, when others pointed their finger at us, we viewed it as a request for us to work with them? What would happen if we let a little child lead us?
Five days with my great-niece Margot, who is approximately a year and a half, has shown me that finger pointing can have a positive connotation. Whenever she cannot find the precise word in her vocabulary to fit the situation, or does not feel like making the effort to come up with necessary words, she simply points her finger. If she wants someone to move to a particular place in the room or upstairs or outside, she points her fingers. If she needs more water, she stands in front of the fridge, points her finger, and looks authoritatively at the adult she decides should get her drink, and the deal is sealed! If she wants to join you on the sofa, she points her finger at the place she wants to sit and someone places her there. If she wants to be read to, she points her finger at her book and someone responds. When Margot points her finger, she is not trying to be bossy; she is asking for someone to work with her, to help her do the things that she cannot yet do on her own.
I love my great-niece's concept of finger pointing! What if we embodied this concept? What if, instead of accusing others, finger pointing became about helping others do the things that they cannot do on their own? What if, when others pointed their finger at us, we viewed it as a request for us to work with them? What would happen if we let a little child lead us?
Monday, January 2, 2012
The First of Six Weddings
Yesterday afternoon and evening, our family held the first of six weddings for my great-niece Maddy. Maddy, a four year old, made the decision that she is going to have six weddings in her lifetime. The first was to be yesterday. Of course, she said with a smile, I won't have a husband at this one. I told her that was ok and that she was in luck -- that I am a pastor and could do (officiate at) her wedding. That intrigued her for a moment, especially after her great-grandmother explained what a pastor is and that I am one, really; and then she continued to make plans for the first wedding.
At first she wanted it to be downstairs in her condo; but as she talked, she decided to have it upstairs in her g'grandparents condo. Her outfit, she finally decided, for the first wedding was a pair of Fancy Nancy pjs that I had brought for her. As soon as she tried them on, she knew that was the outfit. She had a scarf on her head, her initial idea of a bridal veil; but after trying to get the slippery cloth to stay on her head, I suggested that we might fashion one for her - out of tissue paper. G'grandmother, always eager to foster creativity, hunted up tissue paper and the Virginia Beach version of Project Runway began, a low budget version. How we wished her g'mother was in town. She could have fashioned one with ease! The bride-to-be, just as Fancy Nancy would have done, created a work of art to be used in the veil. I then began to fashion the tissue paper into a veil, using tape and hair pins/clips. As strange as it looked, it was a hit with Maddy! So accepting of the gift offered!
Maddy wore the veil throughout the evening, while playing, eating dinner, and still playing. I kept wondering when the wedding would take place. At the end of the evening, when Maddy's parents gathered their children to take them home, and no ceremony had taken place, I thought that Maddy had simply moved on to something else. As she hugged me, she said, "My first wedding is done!"
Ah, I realized, the wedding was the afternoon we spent together as family, playing and eating and enjoying each other's company, creating the environment for the wedding, living out the wedding ceremony, for better or worse, as we went along! Out of the mouths of babes! I think my g'niece may have come up with the perfect idea for how a marriage should begin - low key, in the midst of established relationships, very naturally! I suspect this would take the stress out of the wedding day and might even change the divorce rate!
A little child shall lead us!
At first she wanted it to be downstairs in her condo; but as she talked, she decided to have it upstairs in her g'grandparents condo. Her outfit, she finally decided, for the first wedding was a pair of Fancy Nancy pjs that I had brought for her. As soon as she tried them on, she knew that was the outfit. She had a scarf on her head, her initial idea of a bridal veil; but after trying to get the slippery cloth to stay on her head, I suggested that we might fashion one for her - out of tissue paper. G'grandmother, always eager to foster creativity, hunted up tissue paper and the Virginia Beach version of Project Runway began, a low budget version. How we wished her g'mother was in town. She could have fashioned one with ease! The bride-to-be, just as Fancy Nancy would have done, created a work of art to be used in the veil. I then began to fashion the tissue paper into a veil, using tape and hair pins/clips. As strange as it looked, it was a hit with Maddy! So accepting of the gift offered!
Maddy wore the veil throughout the evening, while playing, eating dinner, and still playing. I kept wondering when the wedding would take place. At the end of the evening, when Maddy's parents gathered their children to take them home, and no ceremony had taken place, I thought that Maddy had simply moved on to something else. As she hugged me, she said, "My first wedding is done!"
Ah, I realized, the wedding was the afternoon we spent together as family, playing and eating and enjoying each other's company, creating the environment for the wedding, living out the wedding ceremony, for better or worse, as we went along! Out of the mouths of babes! I think my g'niece may have come up with the perfect idea for how a marriage should begin - low key, in the midst of established relationships, very naturally! I suspect this would take the stress out of the wedding day and might even change the divorce rate!
A little child shall lead us!
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