Tuesday, November 29, 2011

THE SUNDAY AFTER




And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory are being transformed into his likeness with ever increasing glory which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:18

The last football game of the Big Ten season has always been The Game, the classic rivalry between my Michigan Wolverines and Ohio State. I love the tenseness, the pressure, the exhilaration which only comes from such a Game. This year we won after a seven year drought and my delighted excitement and enthusiasm spilled over onto Sunday.  My Pastor, Rick Dake of Clarkston United Methodist, http://www.clarkstonumc.org/even poked a little fun at the Wolverines in the congregation whose big smiles he observed from the pulpit. His message turned serious, however, when he started discussing “we and they.” Wolverines and Buckeyes, first service and evening service, church members and community members, haves and have nots, rich and poor. His scripture, Matthew 26:31-45, concerned the sheep and the goats and the Kingdom of God:

“…They also will answer,’ Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes, or sick or in prison and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’”
Matthew 25:44-45.

And the veil began to fall away ever so slightly. Pastor Rick was discussing holy relationships and trusting Jesus as our model who loved all the “theys” of the Biblical world, including, probably the Buckeyes.  The Game’s excitement faded as I remembered my Companions class from church seeking a need, looking for a way to connect in our community. Just beginning an afterschool Book Camp for first and second graders at a lower income apartment complex, we were all floundering: a little unsure, a little scared, until we sat one on one with children who just wanted to share the joy of story. Suddenly I heard their chatter, their delight and knew it was louder than all those Saturday cheers.

Later that Sunday we went back to church to hear Rev. Faith Fowler, senior pastor at Cass Community United Methodist Church http://casscommunityumc.org/ , an inner city church connecting in amazing ways with the community which surrounds it. She talked about Hannah in the Old Testament (1 Samuel1-2) and how she rose above her disappointment, the ridicule and disdain of others, to seek the Lord, to pray, to sing:

“There is no one holy like the Lord; there is no one beside you; there is no Rock like our God.”
1 Samuel 2:2

And I was struck again by how much I am learning from the young mother I am mentoring from Grace Centers of Hope http://www.gracecentersofhope.org/ in the inner city of Pontiac. She is teaching me about poverty, the horrors of drugs, the degradation of the foster care system; but more importantly she is modeling someone filled with hope, with faith, with determination to “break the cycle” for her own children. Someone singing. Because of this friendship I am beginning to understand prayerful empathy, not sympathy, for Hannah, and the Hannahs of Detroit and Pontiac.

But God was not done with my Sunday. I watched the Hallmark Special, “Have a Little Faith,” written by Mitch Albom. Albom parallels his adult relationship with a rabbi from his childhood and his growing involvement with a Detroit pastor restoring hope in a broken down church and the pastor's own broken life. I asked myself, “What makes this so powerful?” Because the relationships are authentic transformations, because God is present and acknowledged. I thought about three books I have read in the last few months, Half the Sky by Nicholas D. Kristof and SherylWuDunn, The Language of Flowers: A Novel by Vanessa Diffenbaugh and The Story of Beautiful Girl by Rachel Simon. Half the Sky is a well documented discussion of worldwide oppression of women. But it is not just the facts and figures which overwhelm, but the true stories, the interviews, the contacts, the authors participated in. The Language of Flowers: A Novel is about a foster child who has been in the system since birth and now is literally dumped on the street when she’s eighteen, outgrowing the system. How can Diffenbaugh write with such conviction? She is deeply involved with her own foster children. The Story of Beautiful Girl is about a mentally challenged girl and a deaf man who are caught in “The Snare” of a mental hospital in the late Sixties. How can Simon write with such passion? She has a mentally challenged sister.

I remember the murals we painted this summer at Grace Centers of Hope Daycare, murals to brighten the dingy brick wall which surrounds the playground, walling out sirens, city traffic, tall shabby apartment buildings. I remember especially the manger scene with Baby Jesus, tiny army waving, seeking a hand to grasp.
 “…the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child shall lead them."
Isaiah 11:6b

And I am overwhelmed once more with a God who sticks with us as we seek Holy Relationships, who lifts the veil from our own faces and lives, as we encounter, connect, and learn to love the others Jesus finds for us.







Tuesday, November 22, 2011

LETTERS FROM DAD AND MOM: BILOXI THANKSGIVING



We celebrated our Thanksgiving Sunday this year so we could all be together: traditional, family-oriented. The grandchildren talked easily about school, video games, friends. The men watched soccer, football, NASCAR. The women chatted about TV cooking shows and good books, while cleaning up the delicious remnants of turkey, dressing, fruit salad, green bean casserole. In 1943 my parents planned to be part of a similar family Thanksgiving scene, minus the television, video games and green bean casserole. Dad had completed his training at the Air Corps Technical School at Kessler Field in Mississippi, where Mom had joined him in July. His furlough was planned to begin Thanksgiving week, but the “good ole Army” changed its mind and they were left in Biloxi for another week.

Dad wrote to his parents in rural Michigan, “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving—my first one away from home. I have a pass from four thirty until seven thirty Friday morning. That will mean Eva and I can spend all day together. She already has the chicken for our dinner.”

Mom was quite excited about that chicken. She wrote to her in-laws, “I got acquainted with a lady with a car…this morning we went down real early to see about getting a chicken. There’s a place she knew of where you could buy them alive and then they dressed them while we wait. It was $1.55 for a 3 ½ pound one….I scrubbed and cleaned that chicken for a good hour so it ought to be clean. I’m going to stuff it (bought some fresh oysters too), have never done it before so am anxious to see what it will be like.”

Later she notes, “We surely stuffed ourselves,” and even describes the table set up in their one room tourist cabin, “Our table really looked nice even if we didn’t have a table cloth for it…We ate so much we stacked the dishes and took a nap…then we went downtown to a show.”

Certainly different than our Thanksgiving held over sixty years later, but maybe not so much, still an emphasis on good food, being together, and entertainment. Especially being together, sharing a small segment of their lives; finding a way to embrace the moment given, rather than the moment postponed.

Both Mom and Dad knew the furlough coming up would be Dad’s only chance to be home before going overseas. Mom wrote Dad talked about seeing his nephew and nieces, whether they would even “know me.” She quoted him, “Eva, I can’t tell you how much it means to be going home.” But for Thanksgiving they were together and that was enough.



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