Stereotypes

I was in a funeral procession yesterday for a lady at the church.  It was a long procession…and it lasted for nearly 45 minutes.  I was the last car in line, with the exception of a police car that would pull ahead of me to stop traffic, then lag behind again.

At one point I glanced over and saw a man walking.  Pants were hanging off him, baggy sweatshirt on, chain around his neck.  I had totally pegged him.  “Thug” I thought.  And I’m ashamed to admit that I thought that…but I did. 

As I got closer, I saw the man was carrying a hat, that he was holding over his heart.  I did a double take, and as the procession finished driving by, he gave a solemn nod and put the hat back on his head.  I don’t know if the man was praying, or just showing his respect, but, in those moments, the woman that had passed was on his mind…and that was important.

Whoever you are, I am sorry, and ashamed, that I would peg you so quickly. 

Thank you for that lesson.

Reconciling

So…if you’ve been reading my blog, you may have noticed that two posts ago I wrote about the birth of my nephew.

The Gift of Life.

And then…my last post, was about someone dying.

To say the least, I’ve been trying to reconcile the two all day now.  In my mind, at the first, they seem to be polar opposites.  Life and death.  Just like hot and cold.  Or hard and soft.  And it’s very difficult to live in a world where two totally opposing things are coming at you.

But maybe they aren’t so polar opposites after all.  It doesn’t make the joy of life…or the pain of dying…any different to have that realization.  I’m still thrilled about the birth of my nephew…and I still ache for those who are sick or dying.  It doesn’t take away those emotions…it just makes them…reconciled.

Grace and Peace to all of you.

Weeping

So I arrived at work this morning.  We’ve had a parishoner sick in the hospital for a few days now…and it’s beginning to look rough.  When I got here I was talking to our administrator.  She gave me a book, “Gone From My Sight”…the book that hospice hands out to those who have a family member dying.

It is well written.  Not depressing at all…simply stating what happens in the body as a person dies.  It is actually very poetic…and peaceful.

But it makes me want to weep.

So, today, I pray for tears.

The Gift of Life

It’s been an anxiety driven pregnancy for my brother and sister-in-law. 

Finally, it was decided that their baby, my nephew, would be born on February 5th.  He was a pretty big baby, and Lauren is definitely tiny…so C-section was pretty much essential.

Well…my nephew apparently gained some of the Johnson impatience…because yesterday, they decided that it was time to get that boy out of there.  At 5:11PM my nephew, Truitson Creger Johnson was born.

So…without further adieu, I present him to you.

Truitt Johnson (8 pounds, 1 oz.  19.5 inches tall):

 

 

Welcome to world, sweet boy.

To Discern

Things are good. Things are great for me.

For the first time in a LONG time…I feel the ground under my feet. I have a solid footing.

Could things possibly be working out?

I’m in a bible study on discernment. As I have prepared this week to meet tonight, several thoughts have come in to my head…but primarily, right now, the thought that is in my head is, “Don’t stop discerning”

Because…things are working out. Through the pain of the past two years…my seperation, divorce, not going to seminary, trying desperately to find work after 6 months of unemployment…I truly feel I’ve been called right where I am. I have discerned. And I have been faithful.

So, it’s easy for me to stop. And maybe that’s what I’m called to do…stop and rest. Regroup. Refresh. But that doesn’t mean stop listening. I must keep discerning, or I will become complacent. So, the following is my prayer for this point in my life. My prayer for continuing discernment…even as I feel confident in my calling to be where I am.

My vision is blurry Lord, make it clear.

My hearing is muffled Lord, make it clear.

My wisdom is cloudy Lord, make it clear.

My heart is scarred Lord, make it clear.

Lord, have mercy.

The Manger (what happened?)

So…my call a few weeks ago, was simply to make it to the manger.  And I had all of advent to do it.  And I did make it to the manger.  I made that journey…and I knelt at the feet of my Rabbi, my teacher, my savior, my king.

And then, all to suddenly, I turned around and left.  It is as if I said, “sweet, I made it here…now, let’s get back home.” 

In my eyes, of all God’s promises in the bible and in life, His greatest promise is that he will be present.  Through the pain, joy, sorrow, and happiness of life, he is present through it all.

I wasn’t very present to God when I made it to manger. 

It’s amazing how, once we get there, we simply begin focusing on how to get back home.  After such a long journey to the manger…after weeks of preparation, gifts given, gifts recieved, joy spread, pain felt, decorations up, and back down again…after all that, you’d think I would have lingered at the manger a few more moments…

But it’s amazing how life catches back up…so here I am…yearning again for the manger…when, just a few weeks ago, I was there, and should have stayed longer.

So, Lord, turn me back.  Keep me focused on you and your son.  It’s about 11 months before the world travels to the manger again, but keep my heart, and mind, and spirit on you, and I’ll make the journey again.

Maybe next year I’ll linger a bit longer.

Finding Rhythm

I’m tired today.

And yesterday.

And probably tomorrow.

I just can’t seem to get in to a rhythm of rest, of sleep.  I will sleep hard for a night or two, but, then I’m up half the night for 3 nights in a row.  I’m trying to place my finger on what it is that is keeping me awake lately…but I can’t seem to.  I really need to find my rhythm.

And at this time of year, it seems even more difficult.   The world seems to tell us to kick it in to high gear, and then completely shut down right after Christmas…I just don’t think I work that way.  Peace, rest, life….fruits of the spirit…that’s what Christmas is all about…not rushing until you can’t function.

Rhythm to life is a good thing, I should know, I am a drummer, after all.

Waking up…

Is a very traumatizing thing to do when you realize you forgot to set your alarm, and just a bit more light is shining in the window than you anticipated.

I Have A Problem With My…

So, yesterday, in light of what today was (see previous post), I went to visit my Grandma in the Alzhiemers nursing home that she lives in.  When I walked in, I sat down next to her as one of the nurses was reading the newspaper to the residents.

She didn’t recognize me.  I touched her hand, and said Grandma, and she said, “Oh, are you here for me?”  Which was fine.  She’s happy.  She smiled.  I said yes, and walked her back to her room to talk.

She was so enthusiastic about the stories she told…but I couldn’t understand much of it.  She can’t remember words anymore.  And is mostly incoherrant (The nurses call it “word salad”) when she tries to complete a sentence.  But she smiles, and occasionally laughs, and so you smile, and nod, and laugh with her.  She really is very sweet.

At one point in our conversation, during what was perhaps the sanest moment I’ve seen her in a LONG time, she forgot another word she was trying to say, and she sighed, her shoulders dropped, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, “I have a problem with my…” and pointed to her head.  But then, she couldn’t complete the thought…and she thought for a moment, and finished with “chicken”. 

Then she smiled, and (from what I could gather) told me about how she raises chickens and she had problems with the chicken coop.

I’m glad I went.  It’s great to see her.  I love her laugh, and her smile.  It’s so genuine.  She lives in a world where whatever she thinks is reality.  The nurses take such good care of her.  And she truly is happy there.  And her happiness is her reality.

Here’s to you Grandma…here’s to your happiness, and your joy.  I was a stranger to you yesterday, and you loved me, and talked with me, and shared your joy.  Thank you.

4 Years (today)

I’m not sure why today still aches the same way it did 4 years ago. I really can’t believe it’s been 4 years, yet, with all that’s gone on in my life since then, it feels more like 20. However, this day, still seems like only yesterday sometimes.

I was out celebrating with my friends because I had just graduated college and my graduation was the next day when I got the call that grandpa had died. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. I had been expecting the call anytime the past few weeks, but it does seem like his sickness came on very quickly.

The next day the family came, saw me graduate, and helped pack up my apartment so I could move back home.

In all honesty, I don’t remember thinking alot about Grandpa that day. But I think of him often now. And when I think of that day, I always think of him…and usually nothing else.

Grandpa was perhaps the most genuine loving man I knew. He loved, simply to love. Never to gain anything in return. He just loved. He was always present, whether you were five or twenty or seventy years old, when you were with him, he was always with you. I think that’s God’s biggest promise to us…that He is present…which is probably why today still hurts. Grandpa was always present with you…and that points to something so much deeper than the man himself.

Grandpa taught me alot growing up. He taught me how to care for the chickens and the cows. He taught me how to trim trees. How to put up fences. He taught me how to be part of a family. How to mow the lawn, how to give cows their vaccinations…a thousand things…but, I think the most important thing is that he taught me about the presence of God.

Through his presence with me in my life, he taught me that even in this pain, God is present, God is with me…just like Grandpa was.

And there is definitely comfort in that.

Sometimes though, I do just want my Grandpa.

Peace to you Grandpa.