In the dead of winter, the members of my congregation dropped some sunflower seeds into pots of soil. It was intended to be nothing more than a ritual act. The seeds, in their pots of dry soil, sat, untended in the dark, cool sanctuary, until on Easter Sunday, signs of life were spotted, climbing out of the pots of soil. No one had watered them. No one had put them in sunlight. But the seeds sprouted anyway. The seeds broke out of their hard shells, sent roots deep into the soil and shoots reaching for the light.

On the day Christians celebrate the hope of new life that emerged from the empty tomb of Jesus, we Presbyterians had before us a real-time, real-life mystery: what made these seeds grow? One could say, that’s what seeds do when they are planted. But not always. Sometimes, even the most carefully tended seeds fail to take root and do not flourish. The easy answer is: God did it. But life doesn’t always hold up to the easy answers, does it? Life is as full of mystery and promise as is the growth of those seeds.

So, we are doing what one does in the face of such a mystery. We’re planting the evidence in the rich Ridge soil. And we’re waiting to see what happens. We’re watching to see what grows. In the meantime, we’re wondering what’s growing in Ontario. Where is hope hidden in the soil of our community? Where is peace taking root? Where are shoots of joy, sprouts of beauty growing? We’re waiting, we’re watching, we’re wondering, and we have no easy answers. Only tender young plants, and faith enough to put them in the soil. Do you enjoy a good mystery? Come, join us Sunday mornings at 10:00 a.m. for worship, Monday and Thursday evenings at 7:00 p.m. for yoga. Who knows what might grow?

Blessings,
Cheryl

Our Remembrance Walk

With this image, we began our Maundy Thursday experience. The image is called "New Song." It is by Maria Gabankova, an artist who lives and works in Toronto. I invited those gathered in remembrance of Jesus, this evening, to imagine this image as a contemporary setting for the Last Supper. We shared what we found inviting, welcoming about this table: the musical instruments, the food, the candles, the tablecloth, the diversity of those gathered, the faces, some of whom are looking toward us. We noticed they look serious, pensive. A child was interested in the tree - a pear tree he called it, and then we noticed the tree also contains a fish and a building that looks like a church, and birds, and other fruits. We noticed that the table seems to stretch into infinity. We wondered where we would seat ourselves at this table. Who would we want to sit next to...and why? And then we listened to the story of how Jesus gathered his friends around a table on the night before he died, and spoke to them and washed their feet, and said to them, "If you know these things, blessed are you, if you do them." (John 13:17) We wondered...what things? And what does Jesus want us to do, as we remember Him?

And then we began what has become our Maundy Thursday tradition....walking the labyrinth in remembrance of Jesus, and receiving the elements of communion in the center. Accompanied by the sound track from "The Passion of the Christ," I carried the chalice containing grape juice and began walking. For a bit....it seemed like quite a bit....I walked alone. A solitary walk, holding the cup that signfies the blood that was poured out for me and for all. Soon enough, others joined me. They broke off a piece of bread from the loaf that was offered at the threshold, and then carried the bread that represents Christ's body into the labyrinth. We were all invited to reflect on Jesus while we made our way to the center. As more and more people entered the labyrinth, it became crowded, a sea of humanity twisting and turning on a common journey. I couldn't help but to think of the crowds who walked with Jesus in Jerusalem...walked in triumph with him as he entered the city...walked in confrontation against him on the way to the cross...walked in sorrow as he died.

As each one reached the center I was standing there with the chalice and the words: "the bread of life, the cup of salvation" From a basket in the center of the labyrinth, we picked up a piece of broken pottery and carried it on the long walk back to the threshold, while reflecting on our brokenness. Pretty soon, the crowd had dwindled, as one by one, worshipers completed their walk. By the end, it was down to just three women...those who had been holding the elements at the threshold, and me. Like Mary Magdalene, and Mary and Salome, the women who, according to Mark's gospel, were looking on from a distance as Jesus was crucified. (Mark 15:40) Our dance was tinged with sorrow, though also with gratitude for the love we remembered and in which we participated, tonight.

By the end of the evening, Maria Gabankova's "New Song" became, for me, the welcome table of the kingdom of God, to which people will come from east and west, and from north and south. The essence of that community, that communion of saints, she captured in her painting. And, we experienced a taste of it this evening, in our remembrance of Jesus.

Walking to Remember...On the Way,

Cheryl

The Bottom Drawer

Harriet was a much beloved wife, mother, grandmother, friend. She was a member of my congregation and a former member of a neighboring Presbyterian Church, where she maintained many close ties. When Harriet died, her Memorial Service was shared by the two churches. I have received so many comments about the sermon I preached at the service, that I find myself wanting to blog about "The Bottom Drawer." The sermon and the entire Memorial Service were designed around the contents of a file, carefully saved in the bottom drawer of Harriet's desk. There, she had placed copies of favorite poems, bulletins from other Memorial Services she had attended, the names of hymns she especially liked, prayers and Scripture passages that had meaning for her. The focus Scripture passage I used for the sermon came from a meditation she wrote for her church's devotional booklet back in 1968.

Between the contents of the Bottom Drawer, the memories her family shared with me, and my own experience of this beloved church member, I had many rich resources to bring into the process of creating a sermon that would honor Harriet's life. But more than having ample material with which to work, I was struck by the resonance of the material with the life she lived.

The Scripture passage was filled with images that I could connect to the Harriet I knew. In fact, anyone who knew her could easily connect the dots between the contents of the drawer and the 'content' of her life. Someone told me that during the sermon, there were smiles, tears and times when one wanted to say, 'Yes!' Her words and deeds generally matched her values and beliefs. The life that was visible to others reflected the relationship she lived with her God.

How do you want to be remembered? Why not start a 'bottom drawer' file and fill it with bits and pieces that say something about who you are and what you have loved. Start gathering words and images and songs that capture what is sacred to you, that reflect what has been true, for you. Let the contents of your bottom drawer be a reminder of the life you wish to live. And then, with the gift of each of your remaining days, live it!

Blessings on the Way,

Cheryl

The Shadow

One bright sunny morning, recently, I walked through my dining room and noticed how the sun was shining on the bright pink cylamen sitting on the table. I noticed how the light brought the color vividly, to life. And then I noticed the shadow. I noticed the darkness, contrasting with the light.

Have you seen your shadow, lately?

This week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy" explored the shadow side of a brilliant neurosurgeon, whose gifts brought healing for many. But when a mistake leads to the death of a patient, the surgeon is overwhelmed by his shadow. When presented with the evidence of the many lives he could not save, all he can see is the shadow. It doesn't matter to him that many of them had reached a point beyond the capacity of medicine to bring healing, when they turned to him. It doesn't matter to him, that by using his gifts in these last-resort cases, he gained knowledge that could advance the boundaries of medical science. Facing what is beyond his control, discovering the limits of his abilities, seeing the consequences of his mistakes, experiencing the difficult emotions that come up, the shadow is overwhelming, even terrifying.

Have you seen your shadow lately?

This week, I've been thinking about the cross as the shadow of our faith. In some parts of the world, churches, even stadiums are filled to capacity on Good Friday and empty on Easter. For people who live every day of their lives in the shadow of death or violence or suffering, the cross of Jesus is a profound source of comfort. Not so much among those who fill churches on Easter, the joy and hope of resurrection eclipsing the shadow of the cross.

The "Grey's Anatomy" episode ended with the statement....one way to get rid of the shadow, is to turn out the light. Where does that leave you? In darkness. In this season of Lent, perhaps the idea is not to get rid of the shadow, but to turn toward the light of Jesus, where as for my cyclamen, our brilliant colors may be exposed alongside our shadow. Perhaps there we find God, loving both the light and the shadow, in us. Perhaps there we find the courage to walk with the suffering and to trust the path God has provided for our healing, for our salvation.

Blessings, on the Way,

Cheryl

Standing By

Now that the snow is mostly gone and the earth is once again visible, it looks absolutely dead, does it not? The lawn that will turn bright green, with fresh, sweet-smelling new growth is now nothing but frozen brown thatch. The trees lift stark, bare branches to the sky like gaunt arms, raised in surrender. Flower beds and gardens lie empty, blank, bleak....there is not even a hint of the riot of color and fragrance that will break through, come spring. At this time of the year, we are still in the dead of winter.

Today, I am thinking the same may be true for our souls. In his book "Care of the Soul," Thomas Moore writes, "Soul is not a thing, but a quality or dimension of experiencing life and ourselves. It has to do with depth, value, relatedness, heart, and personal substance." In the dead of winter, our souls may look like death: our mood may be dark, our thoughts may be negative, our energy may be low, our desire to withdraw or escape may be compelling, our heart may be heavy, our capacity to engage life with enthusiasm may be just about null and void.

Just as, within the earth lies the capacity to generate growth once again, the same is true for our souls. However, as long as we view the dead of winter as a problem to be solved or a condition to be avoided, we may miss the gift that is in this season, for us. Joe Cocker sings a song called "Hymn for My Soul." The lyrics include a line that says, "sing a hymn for my soul, stand by me as I grow...."

It seems to me that Lent is a season to stand by our souls, in the dead of winter. Standing by is about acceptance of what is. Standing by is watching the darkness, noticing the heaviness, observing the emptiness....and wondering what it can teach us. Standing by requires patience and trust. Standing by is about loving the soul that looks like death. Just as we would not judge the grass for its brown-ness or the garden for its emptiness, or the trees for their naked branches, neither need the winter of our souls be cause for criticism.

Jesus said, "Those who want to save their live will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it." (Mark 8:35) Standing by, we relinquish and there we find the healing, save love of Jesus, standing by us, in the dead of winter.

Standing by, on the Way,

Cheryl

Laundry and Lent

In her book, "An Altar in The World," Barbara Brown Taylor suggests looking for the 'more' that is sometimes called God, in the "red X under your feet..." or in my case, in the laundry basket that is before your eyes. I woke up to a mountain of dirty laundry today. The basket was not only heaped-over, but also overflowing into a colorful jumble on the floor. I did not greet this awareness with dread. Although doing the laundry does not necessarily fill me with joy, it does give me a certain sense of accomplishment. Seeing the pile transformed from an unruly, disorderly jumble into a display of clean, neatly folded or hung clothes is a weekly experience that is unlike much of the work that I do.

Most Fridays, you will find me at home, immersed in the process of creating the pieces that will become a service of worship on Sunday. It is a process that, like my laundry basket, can often appear unruly, disorderly, and a colorful jumble. By Sunday, I will bring the pieces to church, where they will become an offering that may be anything but neat and tidy. But that's not what it's about, is it? When we come into the sanctuary, we bring with us the colorful jumble that is our lives, not so much so God can bring order to it....but so that we may experience more of God, loving us and working with us in the midst of it.

I've been thinking about how I might experience more of God in this season of Lent. In my life, I have experienced more of God by reading what others have written about God. I have discovered more of God by talking with others about the things that matter to them. I have found more of God in the labyrinth and in nature. My experience of God has been shaped and changed by encountering people whose own life experiences have been quite different from mine. Through prayer and meditation, through acts of service and various other spiritual practices, all of this has led me to experience more of God.

This year, maybe I should just do more laundry. Which is to say, maybe I will find more of God in the colorful jumble that is my life. Maybe I will experience more of God in the bending, lifting, and folding. Maybe in the fragrance of the laundry detergent. Maybe in the empty basket, waiting to be filled again. Maybe even the smelly socks and wrinkled shirts will speak to me of the God I have come to know in Jesus, who never shied away from the messiness and unruliness he encountered.

Where do you suppose you might find more of God?

Blessings, on the Way,

Cheryl

Turning The Corner

Here's our group, in two pictures, standing in front of MR GO: The Mississipppi River Gulf Outlet. This "short cut" shipping channel, carved between the Mississippi River and the Gulf Goast is part of the reason Katrina hit New Orleans with such force. MR GO brought salt water into the marshes, destroying Mother Nature's 'speed bump' for hurricanes and also became a conduit for the storm surge. The decision has now been made to close the outlet and allow nature to be restored.

We had the opportunity to hear a representative of the Army Corps of Engineers talk about the risk management plans that are in the process of implementation. In addition to improving the levees and closing MR GO, residents are being encouraged to build higher - thus some rebuilds are happening on pylons. The Corps has received $14.6 billion and plans to have a new hurricane risk reduction system in place by 2011, with many years to follow for the restoration of the wetlands.

We also enjoyed a driving tour on Wednesday afternoon. We stopped by a couple of the houses we worked on in previous years, which are now occupied. We drove through the Lower Ninth Ward, which is but a shadow of its former self. We saw the levee that was damaged when a barge was driven into it and is now repaired. And, Brad Pitt's housing project is now well underway. He has hired archictects from all over the world to design 150 houses that will be built in the Lower Ninth Ward. They are designed, not only to be hurricane-proof, but also to be envirnonmentally sustainable. Musicians' Village, in the Upper 9th Ward, continues to grow.

Today was the most satisfying day of work so far. In the first part of the week, both of our teams experienced many frustrations, as we tried to learn new skills and struggled with the difficulties of completing tasks in these homes that have been so badly damaged. Today, both teams turned a corner in their work. Floor scraping gave way to pouring and smoothing a new skim coat to prepare for the tile floors that someone else will lay. Hauling sheetrock up a flight of stairs gave way to more dry wall sheets, hung and taped. One of our teams enjoyed an authentic New Orleans lunch prepared by the resident of the home they are working on: gumbo, jambalaya, and fried chicken.

After work tomorrow, we'll probably go into the city to do a little more exploring. Then, we'll be rising early Saturday morning to begin our trip home. We look forward to sharing our pictures and stories with friends, family, and our congregations, when we return.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Changes

Those of us who have been here before are noticing the changes that have happened over time. Whereas last year, progress was seen in the concrete slabs that remained after abandoned houses were razed, this year more homes are occupied, but we are seeing many abandoned houses that are still standing...with broken and/or boarded up windows and overgrown lots. The streets in this part of town are in very poor condition, and there is some evidence of road work underway. A sign of progress is seen in the homes that have not only been restored, but also have finishing touches like landscaping.

In the homes we are working on, there is a common theme: warped wood studs. Our crews are learning how to create shims so the sheetrock can be hung properly. Between the length of time that has passed since these homes were gutted and the work that was not always properly done, there are plenty of challenges in trying to figure out how to accomplish the tasks we are given. The PDA folks are well stocked with good tools, at this point, and have construction assistants who are very helpful - another sign of progress

Some members of the group drove by the home we gutted last year. After a year's time, the homeowner has not yet moved in, but significant progress has been made. It is such a slow process. I met a neighbor today, whose daughter has been on a waiting list for 2 years.

We are tired, but the spirit of the group remains very good. The sun was shining today, with temps in the low 60s. Not bad, for January!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Beginning

Sunday's sightseeing included a visit to the Aquarium and the viewing of an IMAX film called "The Hurricane on the Bayou." It showed the relationship between the depletion of the wetlands in this area and the growth in the destructive power of hurricanes. It was a helpful piece of context, especially for those who are here for the first time. Emotionally powerful, it gave us a glimpse of the natural beauty of this area before Katrina, and offered some images of the immediate aftermath of the storm.

Monday we received our work assignments and got busy! Our group from New York has been divided into two work crews. One group spent the day hanging sheetrock on the walls of a home. The other group cut and placed insulation in a ceiling and began hanging sheetrock on the ceiling, while other members of the group (including yours truly) spent the day attempting to scrape the remains of the adhesive residue that had held tile onto concrete floors...using warm water, soap, and metal scrapers. There must be a better way, we concluded. And yet, the slow, difficult process with little to show for it gives us a window of insight into the experience that many residents of this area have been living for three and a half years.

At the Olive Tree Camp, our numbers are now around 80. There are groups here from Virginia, Minnesota, Wisconsin, New Jersey, and Quebec. We are eating, sleeping, showering, and living in a facility that used to be a Presbyterian Church. Our sleeping areas are dormitory style rooms with wooden-framed bunks and mattresses. We shower (with wonderfully warm water) in a trailer parked on the premises. All of us here share the responsibility for coooking meals and keeping the facility clean.

Monday evening, we had a bit of time to circle up our group for a bit of reflection on the experience that is just beginning. We used the story of Zacchaeus from Luke 19:1-10 as a springboard for reflecting on themes of 'lost and found,' 'hope,' and 'hospitality,' especially in this New Orleans context. Our group is working well together and is sharing plenty of laughter. We're off to a great start!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Getting Here

After airport "Ice-Breakers" and snagging a stranger to snap a photo, and a slight delay for airplane de-icing, we lifted off from Rochester and flew through a flurry of snowflakes, soon enough clearing the clouds for a smooth flight to Atlanta. Wheels down, with just enough time to grab a bite to eat before catching our connection to New Orleans. While waiting in line at the Atlanta Bread Company, Jack and I were approached by a young woman who noticed the Team New Orleans shirts we were wearing. "Are you going there to fix houses?" she asked. "Yes...it's our third trip, we replied." "New Orleans is where I live," she told us. "Thanks so much for coming to help us out." And so the journey begins. Before we have even arrived, we have tapped into the need and the gratitude that have drawn us here.

Of course, rarely can you fly anywhere in the U.S. these days, without encountering travel glitches. Ours came in the form of a one hour delay in our departure from Atlanta. So, we waited and walked the airport concourse and people-watched, until time for take-off from Atlanta, 10:00. We crossed a time zone by the time of our arrival in New Orleans, around 10:45 p.m., Central Time....11:45 according to our body clocks. A shuttle ride to the rental car agency and a 1/2 drive later, we arrived at our destination...the Olive Tree Camp of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.

It was a short night last night, but we are up and about this morning, getting ready for breakfast, church, and some sight-seeing. Our first day of work is tomorrow. It was too dark to see much when we came in last night, but we know that we're working in a part of the city that is still pretty devastated from Katrina. I will post more after we've had a chance to settle in and start to work.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

By Word of Mouth

For the third year in a row, I am starting the New Year with a trip to New Orleans. No, it's not about the French Quarter or Bourbon Street, or the majestic Mississippi. It's about the on-going rebirth of the region in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Three years later, many people have returned to their homes, but the waiting lists are still growing. Much of the progress is being made with the help of volunteer groups like ours. Our initiative started with two people from the First Presbyterian Church of Ontario Center, where I am pastor. They travelled to the Gulf Coast with a group from Geneva Presbytery and returned with stories and a passion to continue this important work.

By word of mouth, we gathered a group and in our first year, 15 of us arrived at Camp Hope, in St. Bernard's Parish, ready to work. We were deeply touched by the stories of those who had endured the devastation of losing everything. We were angered by the sense of abandonment. We were saddened to see restaurants and businesses standing, vacant, and neighborhoods that looked like ghost towns, and parking lots filled with FEMA trailers, and homes still filled with muddy, moldy debris. We pitched in, did our part, and returned home, with stories and a passion to continue this important work. We were heartened by the spirit of the people and by the gratitude expressed by everyone we met.

By word of mouth, our group grew. Three churches got involved. Local businesses became corporate sponsors. Friends told friends. Connections spread through college and church networks. Year two, we were 30 strong. Back to Camp Hope we went. Progress was seen. There were fewer FEMA trailers and more businesses open. Neighborhoods were starting to come to life. But we were shocked when assigned the gutting of a house, two and a half years after the hurricane. How are people managing? What keeps them from giving up? Their patience and perseverence were inspiring. Habitat for Humanity has come a long way in restoring Musicians' Village, a neighborhood dedicated to preserving the rich musical cultural heritage of the region. The rainbow colored homes are a hopeful sight. Brad Pitt has launched a Do It Right initiative in the lower ninth ward. There is still a long, long way to go. We returned home, with stories and a passion to continue this important work.

This year, we are a group of 23 college students and adults from the communities of Ontario and Walworth in New York. Only a few of us are from the church that started this initiative. By word of mouth, it's spun way beyond it's starting point. At this point, many of us are strangers, drawn together by a common desire to contribute to the rebirth of New Orleans. We are grateful to a vast network of friends and family who are partnering with us through generous financial contributions. On Saturday, January 10th, we will embark on our third Hurricane Relief trip to New Orleans. It is my intention to offer blog postings from the Olive Tree Village Relief Camp, where we will be living.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl