"Heart-shaped and Personalized"

Grandmommy Lazenby wore a charm bracelet.  It was very simple, probably no more than 10K gold, and only had a few charms dangling from it.  The names and birth dates of her two children (Mom and my Uncle Bob) and of her grandchildren (Eric, Anna, Steve, Sheryl, Sandy and Susan) were engraved on them ... one for each of us.  Although Mom didn't care for the jingle of her mother's bracelet, all of us grandchildren remember it with a bit of fondness. When we would worshiped with Grandmommy at “her” church, we listened for that jingle and could find her with ease among those in the pews. When she hugged someone, she would throw her arms wide and the charm bracelet would "sing" with a jingly sort of joy.  We heard that joy when she would hug each of us.

When visiting with Grandmommy Lazenby in her home, I loved to sit on the sofa next to her, cuddling up against her. At times, I would gently touch her charms … mine, especially.  There is a bit of wear on each one.  To this day, I like to imagine that the wear is because Grandmommy held each of our charms as she thought about us and prayed for us individually.  Although I never saw her fingering the charms in prayer, over the years this has turned into a personal certainty for me.  I so strongly desired those thoughts, prayers and unconditional love from my grandmother that surely it was true.  No one can convince me otherwise.  Recently, Mom gave me the charm with my name engraved on it.  What will I do with it?  Do I put it away or wear it as a pendant on a necklace? I'm not much for monograms or things bearing my name, you know.

Early this morning, I was reading the lectionary scriptures and found myself with this charm in my hand as I read.  The gospel lectionary scriptures for this Sunday are John 3:1-17.  Just when I thought that there was no other direction one can take with these oh-so-familiar words, no other ponderings, no other ways of saying the same thing, I opened my hand and saw the heart-shaped charm with “Anna” engraved on its face.  “For God so loves you, Anna.”   Yes, John 3:16 is heart-shaped and personalized just like the charm I held in my hand.

"Unbearable Beauty of an Ordinary Life"

I read these words today …

“unbearable beauty of an ordinary life”.

Tears, unbeckoned, flowed 

as the morning’s songbird came to mind,

with the plainness of her plumage

yet a great faithfulness
in her presence
and in her proclamation
 of her Creator's

approaching dawn.

Glorious is her song,

day after day.

Joyful is the newness

found in her singing

each morning.

Her feathers are not

red or blue or yellow 

so she is considered 

ordinary;

she is not migratory

so she is most common

in the neighborhood ...

common even
 in her great faithfulness

and beautiful birdsong.
Often, she is not heard
yet still, she sings

Such is the

unbearable beauty

of an ordinary life.

A MORNING'S PRAYER

Gracious and Loving God, thank you for the gift of this day. I know that each day is a gift from you, wrapped up with love, opportunities and new possibilities. Help me to live in gratitude.

For the beauty of creation, I give you thanks. Help me to notice the flowers along my way today … beautiful, colourful, resilient and strong even on those days when the forecast is of the rains. I pray that I might be the same in your world.

For the joy of loving and being loved, I give you thanks. Give me a heart that welcomes this joy. For the steadfastness of good friends, I give you thanks. Help me to polish and cherish friendships so that they might shine in new ways.

For meaningful work to do, for words to share, for supportive and encouraging people in my life, I give you thanks. I pray that I don’t overlook the importance of any of these.

When challenges and hardships overwhelm me, when darkness desires to delay the morning’s light, give me glimpses of your grace. Remind me that your grace surrounds me, is within me, is reflective of who I am and is to be noticed and seen if I would just remember to look for it. Yes, for the certainty of your grace, I give you thanks.

I now watch the sun rise and I think of you, Loving God. You are the one who stirs all awake to the newness of this day. The flowers raise their faces to you. The rains fall and offer me hope for a clean slate in my day. The birds wake with a new song and I find that my heart joins with them and sings new songs of love and gratitude to you, O God.

Thank you for another day.

Amen.

"Do You Hear Him?"

Before she ran and told the others, she heard her name whispered in a garden ... in the unknowns. "MARY." She heard Jesus whisper her name.

It is Easter! Before the Alleluias and before the sunrise, listen ... shhh. Do you hear your name whispered?

In the midst of all that will be this morning, as we sing and worship and shout our Alleluias, listen ... shhh, listen for your own name to be whispered for Christ has risen indeed!  A single whispered name is our very witness and our call to run and tell others!

"Today, There Is No Voice' (Holy Saturday)

Yesterday,

we still heard 

his voice,

agonizing as it 

might have sounded.

“Father, forgive them…

Today, you will be with me…

Dear woman, your son…

My God, my God …

I am thirsty …

It is finished …

Father, into your hands…”

Still, we heard his voice.

Yesterday,

we wondered

why, oh why

is this day called

Good Friday.

In disguise,

GRACE poured out

from nail-pierced

hands and feet,

from a sword’s wound,

from thorns pressed 

into flesh.

Yet, still, we heard his voice.

Today, 

scattered as we are,

we wait

in deafening silence.

At best, we cry

“How long, O LORD,

will you hide yourself 

forever?”

HOPE is now 

carefully wrapped

in linens and

sealed in a tomb.

“How long, O LORD,

will you hide yourself 

forever?”

In stillness,

earth awaits

the resurrection.

Today, there is no voice.

Today, There is Silence (Good Friday)

As a child, I didn't have the luxury of checking weather.com or The Weather Channel for forecasts ... I had my mother to call attention to the weather on Good Fridays.  My earliest memories of this day leading up to Easter were of her telling us to notice the weather.  "There will be clouds on this day ... maybe even rain or a storm if only for a brief moment."  There was a heaviness in her forecasting as if she knew something that I didn't know.  She continued by saying,"It is God's reminder."  Mom left it at that.  She left me moving about through the rest of my Good Fridays with a heaviness on my heart that I couldn't explain away.    She left me to dwell in these Fridays without jumping into my Easters.

I believe that it was Barbara Brown Taylor who once said to preachers, "Stop two paragraphs shy of a good Presbyterian sermon."  That is what Mom did ... and that is what God does on this day when Jesus' last words from the cross were "Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit" and then falling into the silence of death. God stopped two paragraphs shy of what we so want to know.  Today is Good Friday and Jesus is crucified.

THE END ... or is it?

"Do This In Remembrance ..." (Holy Thursday)

(As we think of this night, Holy/Maundy Thursday, so long ago, we realize that Jesus not only washed the feet of the one who would betray him, but he prepared a place at the table for him as well. It is the same today. He still prepares the table ... for all)

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.

It was when you asked me to help,

O God, that I truly understood ...

or at least understood

in the way that you asked me

to understand.

You handed a chalice to me

from the table you prepared

and whispered, "For all."

I gulped. "Oh God... really?

For all?"

You whispered again,

"Look into their eyes,

offer to them what I have prepared,

Some might be your enemies,

but none are mine."

And so I stood,

at the end of an aisle,

with chalice in hand

and wept at the thoughts

of my enemies welcomed

to the table

that was prepared for me

in such a generous way.

The table was not mine;

the guest list was not mine;

the chalice never ran dry ...

nor did the grace and mercy.

Once again, I heard,

"Do this in remembrance ...

and remember,

these are not my enemies."

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies,

and then you say, "All sit ... together."

And still the chalice never runs dry

for those around the table -

not even for me.