On Saturday morning I was walking near our neighborhood park, enjoying the crisp morning air. I recognized that it was no doubt going to be a rainy day so I'd best enjoy the clear skies while I could. I was surprised to see several groups of people throughout the park planting trees. The trees, maples and oaks mostly, were being planted near, but not under, the many mature trees that grace this lovely green space. It quite a sweet sight, the small, immature trees standing near their towering,botanical relatives, many of whom are probably several decades old.

 I noticed that the trees were being planted by groups of people from several generations. I watched as a grandfather-type held the young sapling in place while two children, a boy and a girl, both with bright red hair, scooped the dirt into the hole in which the ball of the tree sat. I was not close enough to hear the conversation but it was very animated. Their arms flew and their expressions were joyful as they laughed at their efforts. 

Not far from this trio, another generation worked. Three teenagers were just putting the finishing touches on their planting. To celebrate, they handed a cellphone to what seemed to be a supervisor who took their picture standing next to their horticultural feat. Their arms entwined with the trunk of the tree making it difficult to see where human limbs stopped and barked limbs began. I was touched by their pride and found myself wondering if, someday, they will bring their own children to the park to see the tree they planted with their very own hands. That tree, with luck and care, would then be the mature one, tall and strong, as will those who planted it.

I was interested to see who was in charge of this planting party. I approached one of the workers who seemed to be in charge and began to ask some questions. He told me they were a part of Tree Trust, an organization that has been bringing people together to create positive, lasting changes in communities for 32 years. The group recently launched an initiative called Green Futures that brings people together to plant trees in the Twin Cities. You can learn more about them at www.treetrust.org.

All week I had been part of conversations as people registered their helplessness at the devastation off the Gulf Coast. How is it possible to take in the destruction of that beautiful land, the precious water, the vulnerable wildlife? We talked about how, in this particular situation, we have failed so miserably as stewards of God's creation. They were sad conversations and I had been carrying the weight of the words that had been spoken.

So when I came upon these people, all generations working together to plan for the future of the park we hold dear,the park in which we ran and played with our children, it birthed such hope in me. As I thanked the planters for their work, I walked out of the park a little lighter than I had felt in some time. The devastation continues in the Gulf and for that my heart aches. But there are young trees planted near my home, trees that will grow and come to maturity, not in my lifetime, but in that of my children's children. And for that I am eternally grateful. And in that I put my trust.

"For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace;the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12

I have just returned from the yearly gathering of United Methodists in St. Cloud. I have often wondered if the residents of this fine river city steel themselves against our arrival. "Must the the first week in June. Here come the Methodists!" they might say. Or perhaps, as is probably the case, we scoot under the radar like any other group that comes to the Convention Center. I hope that somehow an employee or two heard the fine singing that has been happening over the last three days. I also hope a few stuck their heads into the ballroom where we held worship and were stunned by the beauty of candles, banners, images and transformation from big-black-block-room to a kind of sacred space. 

This annual Conference is rather like a big full-blown family reunion which carries with it all the complexities of any family. All the differences of opinion, complicated relationships, outright arguments and hurt feelings show up. But also so do the warm, heart felt embraces, the smiles and laughter that come from shared experience, a common history that people remember and recount in different ways but mostly with a sense of deep love. It carries with it the fullness of what it means to be the church, warts and wonders for all to see. 

Last night we welcomed and celebrated those newly ordained to ministry. This service is always rich and glorious, full of memory and hope. The red fabrics and stoles associated with ordination and Holy Spirit, made the room where we worshiped feel as if it was on fire. And in some ways it was. The Spirit's presence moved through those who were ordained, their ministry an experience yet to be fully discovered. That same Spirit moved among the families, churches and friends of those who had worked so hard, so diligently over the last years. Pride and excitement filled each, often tear-stained face. The Spirit also danced above the heads of those who have been in ministry for a long time as knowing looks could be seen as those who have 'been there' watched those at this entry point be blessed in their journey. The entire service was, yet once again, one of those mountain top experiences in which we all can see one another as our 'best selves'…..perhaps as God sees us.

While this mountain top experience was fabulous, the high point for me came in the meeting where the clergy meet to affirm those to be ordained, memorialize those who have died this past year, and vote on several other things that keep us up to date with the institution. The high point came when one in our midst was asked to pray. Not an unusual thing except that he began his prayer:"Galactic God of grace……" I heard nothing after that naming. Galactic? Grace? In all the prayers I've ever heard(and there have been many), not once, has anyone every referred to the Holy as "Galactic". My mind was catapulted to the immensity of this Source of All and bounced right back toward my own small self. Here I was, here we all were, connected to this 'galactic' One and everything in between. Isn't is a staggering thought?

I am not sure if others in the circle heard this in the way that I did or not. I am also not sure if those newly blessed to be hearers, speakers, doers and be-ers of God's word, in other words 'clergy', heard the enormity of this address either. But if they did, they must have realized that what they are signing on for is a life bigger than anything they can imagine. It will take knowing, no matter how poorly or how brilliantly they have done their work, at the end of the day they are loved in an unconditional way by the God who birthed the immense galaxies and them. And who holds both in eternal grace. 

From experience I can say, it is a message that will come in handy.

Many mornings I head into a local Caribou Coffee shop on my way into the office. It is a guilty habit that brings with it smiling faces of people who greet you with a knowing look as they make your 'regular'. I also spend time at our many independently owned coffee shops as well. I know, some kind of intervention may need to happen!

A few months ago Caribou changed their look and marketing plan. After years of being the homey, plaid-flannel-shirt,Minnesota company they were ready for a new look, a hipper image. The new plan still includes their 'Life is short. Stay awake for it.' logo with a twist. The cups and napkins give ideas of what to 'stay awake' for….ghost stories around the campfire, break dancing,maxing out your passport(my personal favorite).  Plus there are post it notes with the question "What do you stay awake for?" which patrons can fill out and stick on the edges of the counter. I have to admit that I love reading them. I love this sanctioned form of graffiti that allows people to put a little bit of themselves out into the world for all to see. There are the familiar ones: a good book, a calculus test, a sick child. There are those who find it an opportunity to declare their love, or crush, in public: I stay awake for Amber, for Jason, for Rachel. Others are more curious: I stay awake for Jesus. There are the ones that make me smile: I stay awake for good chocolate, for ballroom dancing, for playing the violin. 

Each of these tiny notes tells a story, one which we caffeine deprived readers only get to read a small part. The sticky notes tacked to the counter space provides a glimpse into the everyday lives of people we do not know and yet there is an intimacy about it that appeals to me.Somehow I leave there wondering if the person staying awake over Amber is having their adoration returned. And the one who is staying awake for Jesus…well…..I'm  not sure what to think about that. 

Perhaps this was the marketing department's intention, to create this sense of connection between coffee drinkers, a relationship of sorts, so we will keep coming back.Or maybe I am one of only a few people who takes these notes with such seriousness. It did, however, make me wonder what might happen in our churches if we did a similar thing. At the entrance of a church building what if we had post it notes that said: "What are you longing for?" "Where have you experienced God?" "How do you shown love in the world?" We could then invite people to plaster their answers all over the door and walls of the entrance. I can imagine people standing and reading. Smiling. Crying. Laughing. Turning to the person next to them. Making eye contact. Maybe even taking hands in recognition of something deeply shared.

Such a 'marketing plan' might create a church of evangelists in the true sense of the word….tellers of good news. Now wouldn't that be something?

What are you staying awake for?

"Open my eyes that I may see
Glimpses of truth you have for me
Open my eyes, illumine me
Spirit Divine."
~Clara H. Scott

Our church is about to embark on a summer emphasis of "Open My Eyes", a way of encouraging people to stay awake to the experience of God in their travels, vacations, time at the lake, whatever summer holds for them. The theme originally started with the idea of focusing on the environment, how we are stewards of Creation, being 'green'. It will continue to do that but in the process of evolving has become so much more. 

 In conversation with a nature photographer who will join us at the end of June, I was struck with something he said. I had asked him to do a presentation about how to take good pictures of the natural world. He said, "Well, I can tell people what kind of camera to use and how to use it. But all that means nothing if you can't see, really see."I hung up from that conversation and immediately began to think about his statement. I, of course, knew he was exactly right. I think of the photographs I have seen that are lovely but somehow are lacking something. While others seem to capture the essence, the spirit, of a moment that draws me in, that touch something deep inside me, make me feel as if I was truly there when the image was captured. Those kind of pictures require a presence and an ability to see, deeply see the fullness of any given image. Can this ability be taught? Is it something anyone can do or is it only for the 'gifted'? Time will tell, I suppose, but hopefully this talented photographer will help those who are interested to develop their gifts for seeing which may result in some amazing photography for them to share at summer's end.

Whether it is photography or simply the ability to be more fully present to God's movement in our every day lives, seeing begins with intention. Is my intention to be present to the fullness this day brings? Or is it simply a matter of getting through one meeting, one project, one load of laundry to find myself watching the 10:00 news, the day ended? Some days play out like that. But if our intention is to live with an awareness of traveling with the Sacred through the day, then opening our eyes becomes imperative. This wide-eyed walk will carry with it not only the beauty of faces and places we love but also the struggle and challenge of those who rub us like sandpaper. It will also allow us to see the person standing at the corner, sign in hand, as the face of God in our midst and that can bring as much pain as compassion. Living with our eyes wide open will not always bring joy but it will, I believe, bring us in deeper connection with the One who walks with us and with all we encounter. Living with our eyes wide open deepens our hearts, our minds and our spirits.

The old hymn by Clara Scott, written in 1895, still carries with it a profound longing. And so I am not troubled at all that it has become a tune that has been playing through my head at the oddest times, sometimes when I least expect it. 'Open my eyes that I may see. Glimpses of truth you have for me.' It has become a prayer, a traveling prayer. 

May each of us make our way into the world today, full of intention to see, really see. And in our seeing may we know truth. A truth that will,perhaps, change us and help to heal the world.

"Every day
    I consider 
    the lilies-
how they are dressed-
 and the ravens-
     how they are fed-
  and how each of these
  is a miracle

of Lord-love
    and of sorrow-
for the lilies
    in their bright dresses
cannot last
    but wrinkle fast
and fall,
and the little ravens
in their windy nest
    rise up
in such pleasure
at the sight

of fresh meat
    that makes their lives sweet-
and what a puzzle it is
that such brevity
the lavish clothes,
    the ruddy food-
makes the world 
so full, so good."
~Mary Oliver

Yesterday I shared this poem as a part of worship. It seemed the perfect piece of beautiful language to go with two of the scripture readings, Proverbs 8 and Psalm 8, both speak of the beauty and fragility of the created world. I commend them both to you. Proverbs speaks of our search for wisdom among the gifts of Creation while the psalmist lauds God's work in Creation asking what the human purpose is in the midst of it all. 

These two scriptures and the poem created a kind of perfect storm of words to bless my experience of yesterday. It was, in truth, a nearly perfect summer day. Warm and sunny with a marvelous rain storm that came in late afternoon. The brilliance of all that is blooming…..trees, flowers, plants…..created a palette of color that dazzled the eye. Outside the entrance to our church, pink and red shrub roses line the walkways and labyrinth creating a welcome of both sight and sweet scent.  The rain not only cooled things and gave a free watering to plants fresh to the ground but  also brought about an end to those flowers which had been lingering past their spring prime. What had looked bright and beautiful in the morning, seemed a little aged and worn by day's end. 

If we are awake to the daily movement of the season's work, we can honor this brevity of beauty, the elusive nature of it all. It is, I believe, an important life lesson to learn that a rose will not always be as beautiful as it is in the first days of blooming. The same may, of course, be said of so much of our living. The sweetness of an infant, the precocious nature of a three-year-old, the poignant longing of an adolescent, the wide-eyed wonder of someone newly in love, all change and come to some kind of end. Those who spent time honoring our fallen veterans on this Memorial Day know this fragility all too well. So the ability to be present to the fullness of miracle in each day, in each stage, is something to practice.

The invitation is ours each morning to awake with the blank slate of the every day looming before us. As our eyes open, and I dare say our hearts as well, we can come to know the fullness that is this life, which is pure gift. This day can never be repeated so, perhaps, it would serve each of us well to consider wisely what we choose to do with it, how we will choose to hold its precious minutes and hours.

 The beauty,the  fullness, the goodness awaits. Are you ready?

"The grace of the love of the skies be thine,
The grace of the love of the stars be thine,
The grace of the love of the moon be thine,
The grace of the love of the sun be thine."
~Carmina Gadelica

Over the last couple of days I have been rereading J. Philip Newell's lovely little book, Listening to the Heartbeat of God. This book uses many prayers from the early Celts which have been collected in a book called Carmina Gadelica which simply means 'songs and poems of the Gaels'. It is a collection of the unceasing prayers of people of the Scottish Hebrides,those tied closely to the earth, who understood the Holy's movement in their lives.This was true in the day to day tasks of laying a fire that would warm their home and cook their food, in the birth and death of their animals, family and neighbors. The prayers reflect that they saw no part of their life in which God was not active. They are beautiful, sweet,sometimes simple prayers passed down orally to generation after generation until they were finally collected by Alexander Carmichael in the late 19th century.

I thought yesterday about how far we have moved from this kind of deep understanding of our connection with Creator and creation. I wonder how many people say a prayer as they turn the gas on to warm the teapot that will create the hot water for their morning cup. I know I certainly don't. With a turn of the knob I watch fire flare forth and turn toward the next thing to be done never giving a single thought to gift of this amazing source of warmth. I wonder how many people took the tiny plants that have been planted in gardens over the last several days,held them gently, saying a prayer for the wonder of seed that sprouts into food to nourish our bodies. How many of us pass by fields full of dairy cows and raise our hands in blessing for the milk that builds our bones and brings us the pleasure of ice cream on a warm summer's day? So many things to be thankful over……

There is a kind of envy that wells up in me when I think of these early faithful giving thanks for the ways they were connected to their God. And yet nothing except intention and a perception of busy-ness keeps me from following their lead. Yesterday I told a coworker that it seemed nearly a sin to have left my backyard to go any place else. The bold purple irises were so splendid. The columbine, lavender and dainty, had just bloomed. The bright red gerbera daisies were lifting their faces toward the sunlight. I could have spent the whole day moving from plant to plant enveloped in the awe of it. But somehow duty called and I answered.

And if the beauty and wonder of these earth bound ones weren't enough, what about that moon last night? The deep blue night of sky was hung with a yellow moon so bright it must have kept the most sensitive awake with its brilliance. As I crossed the bridge over the Mississippi coming home from a late night meeting, I saw it hanging like a huge dinner plate in the sky waiting to be feasted upon. The ancient Celtic cells in my body collected into a prayer with no words, only deep breath,and an even deeper connection to something I can only describe as Sacred.

Perhaps it is romantic to think that, in the 21st century, we might be as prayerful as those in earlier times. Perhaps it is not possible to connect our daily actions with the Holy as deeply as they did. But I do believe that living with a sense of humility about our place in the family of things cannot be a bad thing. The beauty of the iris, the majesty of last night's moon, was something I had no hand in creating. And yet it was a gift to me from a Source bigger than I can imagine. And for that I offer my praise and my gratitude. Amen

This morning I was privileged to observe a small turtle that had made its way out of a pond that skirts a walking path I frequent. I watched as it sat in the morning sun, the dewy grass creating a cool nest and also a sense of camouflaged safety. Its dark green shell and its lighter green head blended in quite nicely among the blades of newly mowed grass. My eye had only caught the sight of it because it was reaching its head upward and I saw the movement of the breath in the length of its neck. I stopped for quite some time, watching its breath go in and out, in and out. Its contentment was contagious as I observed it and found myself aware of my own breath, in and out, in and out. The turtle and I were breathing together.

I do not know in what tradition or context meditation first was practiced. But if I were to speculate, I would say that someone observed the pace and rhythm of a turtle and knew that somehow their way of moving in the world was a good thing.I could imagine that first one human practiced the rhythm of movement and breath employed by this slow, moving one who carried its house with it.I have thought about this creature all day wondering if it is still sitting in the beautiful place it was this morning. The dew might have evaporated all around it and the sun might have risen higher in the sky. But the turtle was in a good place, a happy place and so why move on? Somehow I think there is much to be learned from this languid creature.

As I walked away from my turtle encounter I made my way along streets that are being resurfaced in our neighborhood. I was forced to the side of the road by an enormous, earth moving piece of construction equipment as it crept along the street. This large piece of machinery and the small turtle, though drastically different in appearance, had something in common…….a lack of speed. These two encounters gave shape to my day. Instead of speeding from one thing to the next, I found myself taking the time that was needed in each meeting, each conversation.I have allowed myself to be fully present to the moment at hand, moving with the rhythm of the turtle or the earth mover. And I have found that no work was neglected in this endeavor. Imagine that.

Gandhi was reported to have said,"There is more to life than increasing its speed." Today I am thankful to the lovely little turtle who halted the hare in me and allowed me to be completely present to the beauty of this day. What a blessing it has been!

"Everything in the universe is made by union, by the coming together of elements that seek out one another." Teilhard de Chardin

I have been doing a little late spring cleaning, going through the stacks of papers that seem to reproduce in both my office and at home. Reading through notes I have taken at meetings, workshops, and conferences I was able to make sense of some of them while others eluded me. What had I meant by writing that down at that particular minute? It seemed so important at the time and now its meaning is lost on me.

Sifting through one particular stack I found a folded piece of paper with the statement: 'The more a thing is torn the more it can connect.' I recognized these words from a workshop I took in the winter with Jan Richardson. Jan's work in collage art and poetry helped frame these words but I knew I had written them down sensing they meant more than the way pieces of torn paper come together to form a collage. 

The ways in which our lives are torn by the struggles and stresses that come our way provides oh-so-many-ways to remember the many ways we are connected to one another. I am thinking of the immense oil spill in the Gulf. I am thinking of those people whose lives have been upended by this terrible catastrophe. I am also thinking of the animals, birds, fish and wildlife that have been harmed in ways yet to be determined. I am thinking of the water and the landscape scarred and torn by this unimaginable hole that continues to spew forth oil, gallon after gallon of oil. 

Perhaps the many tears that have happened in this situation will finally bring us all to the recognition of the ways in which we are connected that are seen and unseen. I don't believe Jan Richardson was speaking about destruction. She was, instead, speaking of creativity. And creativity, BIG creativity is what is needed now. What are the ways the engineers and the experts can take the torn pieces of what has happened and make connections that will take us toward a brighter future, one that is more sustainable for our children's children? How can we take the torn pieces of this catastrophe and demand a world less dependent on oil? How can we all take the torn pieces of what has happened and move them around on the page until they form connections that can be glued down and smoothed out to make a more beautiful picture of what is yet to be?

For all those who are experiencing torn places in their lives, let us pray for the deep wisdom that leads to making the connections toward healing…..healing ourselves,healing the world. May the Holy Spirit, whose coming we celebrated this past Sunday, be among us moving, shaping, dancing us into the Great Connection.

"For everything there is a season"…………Ecclesiastes 3

Being one of those people who often talk their way into an understanding of personal awareness, I found myself explaining to a group of dear friends yesterday what was going on in my life. As I talked my way through it I realized that I am in the presence of many transitions. I am surrounded by people and situations that are experiencing in-between times. I was reminded of a conversation I had a couple of years ago with explorer Anne Bancroft who described herself as 'between expeditions'. I wrote about that conversation in this space and the metaphor has stuck with me. Her words rang true to me yesterday as I talked my way into a deep understanding.

Many people I know are in transition. Some are on the verge of retirement while others have just graduated from college and have their whole career ahead of them. Some are unemployed and filled with soul searching that is laced with anxiety and fear.Still others are in the midst of jobs that are taking on new shapes that cause challenges and opportunities. Most institutions, including the church, are also in a time of great transition: not what and who they were, not yet what they will become. Transition is all around.

As I took a morning walk I was also aware of all the transition around me. The evidence of the work in people's gardens and yards was everywhere to be seen.Upturned soil housed newly planted vegetables and flowers. Shovels leaned against the sides of houses. Piles of uprooted plants sat in buckets to be thrown or replanted or given away. All the human hands at work had participated in creating a visual image of transition. None of these garden plots will look the same in August. Some of the plans for how the garden will succeed, no doubt plotted in the dead of winter's cold, will flourish and grow. There will also be surprises, unplanned gifts that the gardener could not have expected. And only part of the success of the garden can be claimed by the ones who did the planting. Forces greater than those with dirty knees and sore muscles are also a part of this great Creation play. Weather, sun, rain, stray animals, insects all contribute to what grows and what doesn't.

And so it is with all transitions. We hold only a piece of the great puzzle that will eventually take us from one place in the journey to the next. But there so many other, unseen, pieces that take our trust, our faith, our sitting still. Trusting that there is much to be learned in the in-between place can make all the difference. The tomato plant in May is only a few green leaves on a stem. Come August the red, ripe juicy fruit will bring delight beyond measure. 

For the in-between times, it is a good image to remember.

Have a blessed weekend……….……

Yesterday morning I read of a new Panera Bread restaurant in St. Louis. As customers arrive at the store they are greeted by the sign that simply says:"Take what you need, leave your fair share.” While still serving its delicious breads and healthy soups and sandwiches, the store allows people to pay what they can for the food they will receive. The cash register is replaced by a 'Donation Jar'. The article reported that, though no one is required to pay any amount for the food they order, 1/3 of the customers are opting to pay more than the retail value of their check. Those who cannot pay at all are asked, if they are able, to help out some place at the store.

As I read this article, my heart filled with a sense of gladness and hope that had been absent for awhile. In the face of all the other articles in the paper that showed a less than stellar side of humanity, this story lifted me up. I found myself, once again, able to glimpse an imageof the greater good. I pray this endeavor, underwritten by the company's foundation, works. If it does, the concept will expand into other markets that Panera serves. Wouldn't that be wonderful? I thought of the many homeless and transient people I pass on Nicollet Mall as they ask for handouts. Near by is a Panera restaurant. I loved the idea that these people might some day walk in and be served with all those able to pay, many even more than the face value of the cost of their order.

Despite the sheer goodness of this story, i know I was drawn to it for at least two other reasons. The first is that it seems to live out what the early disciples did as recorded in the book of Acts. "Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were
being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and has all things
in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the
proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together
in the temple, they broke bread at home, and ate their food with glad and
generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people." These early followers of Jesus banded together, not only out of self preservation, but to continue to live out in community what they believed Jesus would want them to do. They were all about  taking what they needed and leaving their fair share. 

The second reason I was drawn to this story was because of my father. My Dad was a man who loved food and had also been a cook in the Navy. He could never cook for just four people. Everything he created in the kitchen was meant to serve a crowd. He said to us on more than one occasion that if he ever became rich, which was a big if, he would open a soup kitchen. My Dad was also a man that really believed in the dignity of all human beings. I can imagine that the soup kitchen of his dreams would have countless ways for all who came to eat to be given ways to help out in some way so their food was not a hand out but a hand up. I can imagine him walking into a Panera store today and putting far more than was required for his meal into the donation jar.

I will look forward to following the progress of this amazing act by a corporation. Its intention brought hope to my day and an opportunity to think that a dream my Dad once had might have the opportunity to be lived out by others with equally generous hearts and souls. May each of us walk into this day taking only what we need and leaving our fair share.