Up, Up, and Away!  We arrived in Joplin after a beautiful drive through Kansas and Missouri autumn countryside.  We were amused at a rest stop, when we observed a couple of goats being 'walked' in the parking lot.



Soon after our arrival at First Presbyterian Church of Joplin, this hot air balloon floated by.

We are encouraged to see signs of progress here.  Lots of new businesses are under construction; some lots have now been cleared of debris. On the other hand, we saw at least one restaurant that was open last spring, now closed.  The recovery process is not without its setbacks.

After hearing the story of the blind beggar Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52) in church this morning, we listened to the story again this evening, this time listening from the perspective of displaced homeowners in Joplin, volunteers who come to this community to help, and the organizations (like Re-Build Joplin) who are here for the long-haul, overseeing the process.  Just as we were settling down for our discussion, there was a knock at the door.  I went to open it and found a young man who was, along with his wife, stranded without shelter, looking for help.  Faced with our very own Bartimaeus, we listened to his story and gave him some food.  He seemed to have an idea about where they could spend the night, so he departed.  We were struck, once again, by the irony that we came to this place to serve the people of Joplin without knowing how we would be asked to serve.  As we continued our reflection on the story of Bartimaeus, someone noticed the alliterative similarity between Jericho (where Bartimaeus called out for mercy from Jesus) and Joplin (where displaced homeowners are, likewise, crying out for mercy).  We observed that we, too, are asked to throw off the cloak of security in order to follow Jesus.  We were struck by the question Jesus asked Bartimaeus, "What would you like me to do for you?"  We picked prayer partners and talked with one another about how we might answer this question, if Jesus asked it of us.

Bright and early tomorrow morning, we'll receive our work assignments from Re-Build Joplin.  Blessings, Cheryl and Team Joplin!

Welcome Home

When we arrived at our new home on Welton Grove Circle, I noticed the previous owners had left behind not one, but many welcome mats. At every point of entry we encountered the word, scripted in beautiful colors coordinated with the home’s architectural style.

Welcome, welcome, welcome the message repeated itself and wove its way into our lives….not only in the mosaic of mats strategically placed in our home, but also in the words and actions of the many strangers, soon to become friends, who have come to our door. We have been welcomed with tasty packages of food, with flowers, with meals, and with gracious words, “We’re so glad you’re here.”

We have been welcomed by church members with strong arms and a truck, who transported my books and files to my office at the church. We have been welcomed in worship, by friendly faces, gleaming stained glass, soaring music, inspiring Scripture, proclamation and prayer. In the swapping of stories we are already building connections between and among us. And, we have been welcomed by a church staff, eager to orient us to this place. Even nature has joined in manifold witness (as the old hymn goes). We’ve been welcomed by the beauty of a summer sunset beckoning us westward as we drove into town, by the evensong of the cicadas, by the crackle of lightening, rumble of thunder and nourishing rains that have watered the parched, dry earth. The sounds of the city have welcomed us, too. From our screened–in porch we can hear the steady hum of traffic on the interstate, the wail of emergency sirens, the whistle of trains and the roar of planes flying low on their way to and from Forbes AirField.

Welcome, welcome, welcome. The word is an invitation to practice hospitality. In their book “radical hospitality,” Father Daniel Homan and Lonni Collins Pratt write, “It is a courageous thing to keep getting up every day, and it is a much more courageous thing to rouse your heart and incline it to love. To care for each other, to open the door to the stranger, to open your heart to the stranger, lifts you into the great dance of life…What matters is that we stretch our hearts open and draw near to each other. It is the way of hospitality, the way of life, and it is, in this remote place where we have awakened to find ourselves, the only way home.”

Blessings,

Cheryl

Yard Sale-ing

This weekend we had what was, for us, an unusual experience....a yard sale. Actually, it's a moving sale since we are getting ready for our move to Topeka. For the past couple weeks we've been sorting, cleaning, and pricing the stuff we no longer use and don't want to haul half-way across the country. Our children have begun to pack up their child-hood mementoes. We've tossed and turned on what to take with us and what to leave behind...what we 'treasure' and what is just more stuff, taking up space. It's quite a process.

Our day dawned bright and early as we hauled out our offerings, posted our sign, and waited for customers. Although yard sale-ing is unusual for us, around here there are folks who make a sport of it. All season long they hop from sale to sale, looking for bargains. Some save up $1.00 bills just for this purpose. Some arrive as soon as you're open for business. Others drive by slowly, just scoping things out. One guy strode up the driveway and asked, "how much for it all?" Now that would be a deal. He did snag quite a number of items. By the time he was done, it was clear that he was working a well-honed system.

I was interested in what sold. Like many, we had an assortment of odds and ends from the kitchen, ramdom office supplies, a few books, some linens, a couple of appliances, a few pieces of furniture, and some trinkets from the kids' younger years. Some of this went, but much remains. Instead, we quickly sold a glockenspiel that our son used in high school band. A couple of needlework pieces that once were in Jack's family, but more recently have sat un-noticed in our basement went to a woman who owns a B&B. A pouch with a dozen tiny perfume bottles were purchased by a woman who has a bottle collection. And the lava lamp went to a little boy who was absolutely delighted with it.

We were also been fascinated with the people who stopped by. Everyone wanted to know, "where are you moving?" They were surprised to hear, "Topeka, Kansas," but then the small world connections began. We met a man grew up in a little town outside Wichita. Another was wearing a t-shirt from a bird sanctuary we visited during our PA years. Neighbors we hadn't seen in quite some time, stopped by to wish us well.

At the end of the day, we still had quite a bit of stuff we don't need, but we agreed it was a pretty good day. It was a gorgeous day to be outside. We met some interesting people. And now, we'll pack up the remains to donate. The hard work of sorting and deciding what to do with the accumulation is behind us...at least for now.

What to do with the past is a question we'll continue to ponder, as we say our good-byes and move through the transition from Ontario to Topeka. What to leave behind? What to recycle? What to take with us? Questions not only of the household, but also of the heart.

Blessings,

Cheryl

Stepping IN

Some babies are not easily comforted, when they become anxious. They will NOT take a bottle. They will NOT take a pacifier. They will NOT take to anybody other than mommy and daddy, even well-meaning grandparents. From the time we enter this world, we need to be comforted, especially when life is too much for us: when we are anxious or afraid, when we are tired or irritable, when we are confused or uncertain, when we are depressed or disappointed or sad, we need to be comforted. Sometimes, that means reaching beyond our own resources, connecting with someone, something or some place that somehow calms us, helps us feel safe, secure, okay. Sometimes it means knowing how to access resources within ourselves.

This is my blessing bowl. I made it at a gathering of our church's College Moms group, so it holds all of the love and energy of a group of women who are special to me. My blessing bowl contains brightly colored slips of paper...post-it notes on which I have written words that represent some of the concerns of my life....the names of those I am holding close to my heart, the uncertainties I face in life, the things that are beyond my control, situations that bring anxiety to my soul. My hopes, dreams, and longings are here, too.

The blessing bowl becomes a source of comfort as I sit with it, opening each slip of paper and lifting its contents to God, in prayer. It is comforting when the needs and realities of my life change, and I can take a slip of paper out of the bowl or add another. I am comforted by the awareness of God's activity in my life, whether I always notice it, or not. As I hold the bowl to my heart, lift it up, then set it down, I find it helps me ground my day in the love of Jesus, for me and those I love. This is one source of comfort for me.....what's yours?

With this question, the sanctuary was abuzz this morning, as people moved into triads and shared with one another, what brings comfort to them. We listened to the story of a man born blind, who Jesus healed (John 9:1-41) by making a paste of dirt and spittle, applying it to the man's eyes and telling him to wash in a pool of water. Not a very comforting picture. The healing touched off a controversy among virtually all who witnessed it. No comfort there, either. Comfort comes when there is a shift, an awareness, from within or beyond, that enlarges the blind man's soul so he able to confess, "Lord, I believe." Crossing from 'once I was blind' to 'now I see,' the blind man finds comfort when he is awakened to the love and light of God, in this gift of healing.

Comfort is not the end, but the beginning of his transformation, and mine. Stepping in to comfort, my soul is enlarged and awakened, so that the healing love and soothing light of Christ I experience may flow from my life, with God's healing, for the world.

Stepping in,

Cheryl

Stepping OUT

This is Sarah. She and her boyfriend Scott recently went to Trapeze School, on Pier 40, in New York City. I asked her to tell the story in church, to help us think about what it is like, to Step OUT into God's unknown. Imagine being strapped into a safety harness, clipped to another safety cord, and sent off to climbup a 25 ft. ladder. Imagine meeting a tiny girl at the top, whose job is to hold your entire body weight, as you lean over the edge of the platform to grab the trapeze bar that seems miles away and way beyond your reach. Is your heart racing yet? Have you begun to question what you are doing way up there, and why you are even considering launching yourself off the platform into the air?! Go ahead and look down. Do you see the instructor who will use his body weight to pull the safety harness, so your face won't smash into the net and then the ground? Are you wondering if it's too late to turn back now?

It’s all a process of timing, weight and motion. The instructor will get the rhythm going 1...2...3... hut!' On 'hut' you are supposed to jump off the platform and swing forward, and backward, while flipping upside down. How many tries do you think it will take to convince your feet to budge and leave the platform? What questions are running through your head now? Do you trust the process? Here's what happened, eventually, for Sarah...

"As I climbed that ladder I took a moment to embrace the experience. I realized that the view was beautiful, the sun was setting as I enjoyed the beauty of the city skyline and now it's time!!! Now I'm ready to step off and take a LEAP OF FAITH! I loved the feeling of swinging in the breeze, hanging upside down by my knees and finally letting go and free falling. What a rush!!

My heart was pounding and the adrenaline was flowing!!!!! Before I knew it, I was lying in the middle of the net, thinking, 'I made it' , 'I survived'!! That day, at Trapeze School, I learned a lot about going beyond my comfort zone, trusting my life to complete strangers and a single cable."

Listening to Sarah's story, I wondered how I embrace both uncertainty and exhilaration, as I step out beyond the familiar territory of known experience. With trust? Yes. Courage? Surely. But also with a beginner's mind. In his book, "a life of being, having, and doing enough," Wayne Muller makes a distinction between the beginner's mind of child-like awe, filled with wonder and curiosity and the expert's mind, which just 'knows' how things ought to be done, how they will work, which way is the right way, and which is clearly wrong.

This distinction may have been at play in a conversation Jesus once had with a so-called expert named Nicodemus. Jesus said, “The wind blows where it will, and we hear the sound of it, but we do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8

"We do not know," Jesus said. With a beginner's mind, frontiers of new experience may become a source of birthing as well as blessing. If I am willing to be surprised, I may learn something new about myself. I may learn something new about God. Stepping OUT beyond the frontier of known experience, I may be born again.

Stepping OUT,

Cheryl

Stepping OFF

This year, I'm beginning Lent by stepping step OFF the treadmill!

The advantage to exercising on a treadmill, of course, is all season, all weather, access. The disadvantage is….the scenery never changes. It’s sheer repetition. Effort that eludes a sense of progress. Movement that gets me nowhere.

Still, many of us run, we walk, we pedal, we jump. We bend, we stretch, we huff and puff, to get our blood circulating to all the vital organs of our bodies...to keep our muscles toned...to build stamina and endurance....for flexibility and balance...to burn off calories….or reduce stress....to discharge anger or boil off frustration….or break a sweat. We work out. Yesss!!!

At the outset of Lent, I'm stepping OFF the treadmill, because, if the scenery never changes and I am moving but getting no where….am I really living? Not that I'm giving up my exercise routine for Lent. I wouldn't dream of abandoning the Jazzercise, yoga, and walking by which I maintain some semblance of physical health. I'm stepping OFF the treadmill, that I may draw upon its benefits to gain access to my inner life...to explore the interior landscape of my soul.

In nature, layers come from the passage of time and the interaction of various elements. Wind, sun, soil, rock, freezing, thawing, flooding, the erupting of a volcano, the shifting of tectonic plates, the movement of a glacier creates layer upon layer, a natural process, a process by which the earth has come to the shape and form in which it exists today. In places like the Grand Canyon, the layers are visible….the carving out of that massive hunk of earth broke through the encrustation to reveal what lies within. And what lies within is beautiful, is it not? What is true in the geology of nature is also true in the geology of a human soul…over the passage of a lifetime, elements we experience create layer upon layer so that the image of God in which we have been created: our beauty and creativity, our unique gifts and wiring, our life-pulse and heart-beat, the expression of divine essence that God called good, lie within an accumulation of layers, resulting from the natural process of living.

Layers of defense built up when we needed to protect ourselves from pain.

Layers of denial accumulated to shield ourselves from difficult truths.

Layers of habitual action we used when we didn’t want to risk vulnerability, on life's treadmill.

Stepping off the treadmill to enter the wilderness, as Jesus once did, these layers of defense denial, and habit may be sifted and sorted, laying bare one's essential character, deep passion and core qualities. But, as long as I consider this testing to be about pass/fail, right/wrong, good/bad…I dare not step off the treadmill. Remember what it was like to take a test, when you were younger? Some would tear eagerly into the test, confident, ready to show what they know. Others might have tried for a while, picking their way through the material, sometimes knowing, other times guessing, filling in the circles on the sheet randomly or making things up, hoping at least to get points for creativity. Some never tested well and approached every test with dread and anxiety, doomed to fail, because that’s what experience taught.

Only as I step off the treadmill to explore the contours and layers of my soul, with love and compassion, will I experience renewed vitality and hope. Could I, like Jesus, allow the Spirit to lead me to a place where I might give full attention to what is going on with my soul? (Matthew 4:1-11) Full, undivided attention. How about giving myself breathing space, these 40 days?! Sit still before God and try to listen to what God is saying to me. Reflect on who and what I love. Notice what is difficult to admit, even to myself. Name what I need. Do not judge or criticize or complain. Instead of telling God my troubles, say "thank you." Say, "I love you." Say, "here I am." The advantage of a treadmill is all-season, all weather access to exercise. The advantage to stepping OFF, is access to the Source that gives me life, the goodness in which I am being created, and the purpose toward which my life is moving.

Stepping off,

Cheryl

Attraversiamo

Yes, it's a sunfish sailboat, in our sanctuary. In ancient times, artists used to portray the church with the image of a boat....so we did, too. On the final Sunday of our series from Unbinding Your Heart, we imagined ourselves, the wind of God's Spirit, filling our sails, crossing over, with well-tended spiritual lives, to an ever-deeper faith. With eyes and hearts open, receptive to what's next, we envisioned crossing over to share our faith with people who do not yet know God’s love.

When we started this adventure, six weeks ago, no one knew what God would do, if we started praying like we never prayed before, if we gathered in small groups for conversation about why it matters that we are Christians. When we started this adventure, six weeks ago, our boat was rocking gently on placid water, ripples just beginning to flow out from our center.

Who knew that God would bring new people into our lives and deepen the relationships among us? Who could imagine the spark that would expand our worship life? Who expected the flow of faith stories, shared from the heart, awakening us to God's activity in our lives? Who would have guessed that our small groups would not disband after six weeks, but would value what they shared together so deeply, that they would find a way to continue? Who anticipated new ministries emerging, as the Spirit whispered in listening ears and open hearts?

Attraversiamo is an Italian word that means 'let's cross over.' In her book, Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert calls it her favorite Italian word, as she describes dragging her friends across the crazy traffic of Rome. If Italian had been Jesus' native language, we'd find this word sprinkled all over the gospels, for Jesus often crossed over to people and places that needed to be touched, to be blessed by God's love. In this painting, by our resident artist Chip Stevens, Jesus is crossing the Sea of Galilee, where his disciples are caught in a storm. In a brash moment, one of them, Peter, stepped out of the boat, believing, he too could walk on water. When fear got the best of him, and he started to sink, Jesus reached out to steady him. Peter and his friends found, in Jesus, a companion they could trust, whose love and faithfulness would cross over the chaos of a stormy sea to steady them.

Who knew that over the six weeks of Unbinding Your Heart, we too would experience Jesus, crossing over to us...with courage that deepened our faith...with love that opened our hearts...with compassion that steadied us, as we stretched and took risks, together. And, who knows what will happen next?! Attraverisamo...let's cross!

Blessings,

Cheryl