Bloom Where You're Planted

It's 6 pm and 111 degrees Fahrenheit outside. The sun's still up, but gradually moving toward the western horizon. It's been sunny all day, and it looks like it will continue to be that way for some days yet. For those who have had lashings of rain and inclement weather, I'm sorry, but could you please send some rain this way?  I think the last month when we had rain was February – oh, wait, we did have 0.03 inches in May, but that was a long time ago. I know we had a wet winter, but, dear Lord, couldn't you spread it out just a little throughout the year instead of lumping it together over a single month or so?


I know God made the world with different climates and temperature zones. God made mountains and valleys, glaciers and swamps, seashores and deserts.  God also created people to live in all those places, each with the ability to use the climate, the growing zones, and the weather patterns to sustain their lives. Animals lived in the same way, adapting when necessary. God was pretty smart to do all that and using only imagination, creativity, and sometimes mud.


Now the polar icecaps are melting along with glaciers,  which are millions of years old. Fires are again burning scrub brush and old-growth forest alike.  Some shorelines are being built up,  while others are suffering erosion. The clear skies are often dirty brown, and people with breathing problems are suffering from increasing episodes of asthma and decreased ability to breathe. God made a perfect world, but human beings have done much to destroy the beauty and balance that existed at the time of creation.


There are traces of primeval forests at the bottom of lakes and swamps.  Humans have found seashells in the materials that make up high mountains.  Petrified wood is proof that trees existed in places where they are very scarce now. I wonder, did God create the world to shift things around from time to time? If the magnetic poles switch positions from time to time, do floods, earthquakes, volcanoes, and other environmental events occur the same way – on some schedule God put in place to shake us up once in a while?


The calendar changes, the seasons change, the weather changes, and people change. It all seems to be in some great plan unknown to us, but that certainly doesn't mean that it is not known to God. But God also put free will on the earth for humans to make decisions for themselves, to choose to do good or evil, to do things that make life better or worse.  That free will means they can choose to protect the earth and the beings that inhabit it or elect to live selfishly, tearing the ground apart, leaving footprints of greed in every corner, and bruised and broken bodies in its wake.  It creates deserts of blowing, choking sand, and rising tides that flood the land, drowning all that stands in its path.

I can see what frustrated the prophets of old who could, with the help of God,  clearly see what was happening yet were seemingly unable to make the people see it too, much less change their ways.  People watch the weather reports today, but don't always take notice of warnings. Even with signs, meteorologists, hydrologists, geologists, vulcanologists, and dozens of other -ists can't always forecast or predict how dangerous things are going to get. It seems to be the only time we think about "Acts of God" is when some kind of disaster comes around, even if we were cautioned, and prepared for what we believe is the worst that can happen.


Moses predicted plagues to strike Egypt. God had warned him and told him to tell Pharaoh. The king might listen, after two or three of these "warning" plagues, but usually wasn't about to pay attention to warnings of something that might happen but what would surely deprive him of bricklayers, farmers, and other workers if he acceded to what Moses said God wanted. We know what happened in that story.


There's a saying that goes, "Bloom where you're planted." Yes, even in a desert without rain. Our desert certainly isn't the worst place by any stretch. I guess what I have to complain about is so inconsequential to what others have to suffer through that I sound pretty wimpy. I may be tired of a pandemic that I didn't start. I may not see the end of it, but that doesn't mean I can ignore it and the safety precautions that modern prognosticators like the CDC say I should obey, like wearing masks, staying six feet apart from others, and staying home, especially if I am sick. We've found out that the hot weather isn't going to improve things, and I don't know if we can wait for snow and freezing temperatures to see if maybe COVID-19 doesn't like the cold.


Meanwhile, I will sit at home, read, knit, talk to the boys (my cats), and pray for rain. The earth around me needs it, and the fire danger grows higher every day. We've already had several severe fires in the mountains as well as in the Valley, but more are sure to come. I'm sure God has something in mind, even if I don't know what the plan is.


It's up to me to do what I can to bloom here in the desert. It's also up to me to trust God to take care of me – with some help from me, of course. A flood starts with a single drop of water.


God bless.

Originally published on Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, July 18, 2020.

The Example of Mrs. Zebedee

Matthew 20:20-28



Every mother thinks, or should, that her child/children are the smartest, best looking, most athletic, most talented, best at every subject, and probably a hundred superlatives in every phase of life. Granted, not every child is a Martin Luther King Jr, Einstein, Yo Y o Ma, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, or Queen of England. But each child has something they do well, something for which they should be praised for those accomplishments. They also have things that they may not do well, but which, with a bit of encouragement and help, could improve. Each step of improvement is an invitation for support, assurance of parental pride, and praise for hard work done. Then some mothers jump in to try to make sure her offspring get noticed and, hopefully, in are rewarded for loyalty, being the first in the deep end of the pool, or perform outstandingly in some manner. The mother of James and John certainly fit into that last category.


James and John weren’t the first in the pool of Jesus’s disciples; they were the third and fourth, following Andrew and Simon Peter. They probably weren’t the brightest in the group, the hardest workers, or even the closest to Jesus, but Mrs. Zebedee wanted to make sure she did all she could to get Jesus to give them prime positions at his right and left sides. I have to give her props for being willing to speak up for her boys, show her pride in them, and look out for what seemed to her to be their best interest. She would be the kind of mother who always worked, “My son is a doctor,” or “My boy was first in his class at Harvard Law School,” or “My son is President of XYZ Bank” into a conversation about their offspring.


Jesus didn’t grant her wish.  Instead, he launched into a talk about leadership and how leaders should act. What Mrs. Zebedee had been asking was for her sons to become leaders by occupying places right next to Jesus, but Jesus had other criteria. To him, a leader showed leadership more by action than mere position in a queue. A leader wasn’t a self-proclaimed genius, world’s greatest entrepreneur, most decorated military hero, or the greatest star on Broadway or in Hollywood.

Leaders demonstrated by their words and actions. Jesus might have dissed the Pharisees and others because they were so sure of their own righteousness and purity, and refused to consider that they might be wrong about a lot of things.  Jesus looked for leaders who were open-minded, willing to learn, to change, and to teach others. He looked for those who understood his teachings and then demonstrated them without expecting compliments or praise. Most of his disciples didn’t really come into their actual roles as leaders until after Jesus’s death and resurrection. They weren’t students anymore; they had to become teachers, preachers, healers, and mentors.


I look at some of those who lead these days. One of my favorite world leaders is HM Queen Elizabeth. She may be rich, she may be the top of the pack in Great Britain, but she is also modest, knowledgeable, and willing to meet even with people with whom she does not agree, all for the sake of doing her duty to her country as she promised years before her coronation. The world respects her, and for me, and maybe many others who have known her as Queen, she is like a rock, demonstrating dignity, manners, tradition, and duty.


Ok, I admire others too – but they seem to be getting fewer and fewer. I respect former President Jimmy Carter. He may not have been our greatest former president, but he still lives the Biblical life, helping to build houses for those who have none, speaking out for rights of those who are denied them, and continuing to teach Bible studies at his church.  I admire The Most Rev. Michael Curry, who speaks the truth as a prophet of old, and who demonstrates that love and smiles change more hearts than military parades or political rallies. He preaches love, just as Jesus did, even in a time when love seems to be in very short supply.


None of these three would need to collect Workman’s Comp from breaking their arms by patting themselves on the back like so many folks these days. None of these people were born to the positions they now hold. Heredity may have played a part in their becoming the people they are and helped form their ethics of duty, obedience, and love. They all have a sound and active faith and use that faith to guide their actions and their leadership. There might have been a Mrs. Zebedee in each of their backgrounds, guiding, urging, perhaps even nagging a bit. Still, they all stand on their own two feet and let their faith shine forth, giving the world hope and love and wisdom, all of which are sorely needed.


I have to admire Mrs. Zebedee for speaking up, even if it seems she seemed perhaps a bit too forthright. She didn’t claim any greatness for herself, though, and for that, I have to give her kudos. Maybe I (and a lot of others) should speak up for things we truly believe in, something that Jesus would want us to call attention to, without breaking our arms by patting ourselves on the back for doing it.


God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, July 25, 2020.

A Good Kind of Exhaustion

It's been one of those weeks that makes me think God is laying things on with a trowel to make me regret having been lazy too long. Granted, I am a senior citizen and retired to boot, so I figure I deserve days where I sleep nearly all day, spend most of my awake time knitting, or reading a whole book in a day. So there are dishes in the sink. The floors have more than a few balls of cat-lace (loosely accrued bits of fur that appear in the middle of the floor the second after I turn off the vacuum. I ought to clean the oven or the bathtub, but there's an interesting program on TV, and besides, as my best pal Mouse tells me, the housework will still be there tomorrow.

I think I stretched it too far this time, though. This week was scheduled for my annual mentor training for certification to be a mentor for Education for Ministry (EfM). This year the group met from 8 am until 11 am, then 1 pm – 3 pm for three days and just the morning session on the fourth day. We sit in an online classroom, 7 or 8 of us forming a group plus a trainer, and learn to be better mentors for our groups. We aren't teachers, and we certainly don't have all the answers, but then, we aren't expected to have them. We're more like facilitators, guiding, sometimes directing, sometimes coaching, sometimes acting as cat herders, but always being supportive of the group and its members as all of us work to become more spiritual, closer to God, and more educated about the Old and New Testaments, church history, and theology and ethics that inform how we serve God, the earth, and the people of the earth. We serve as ministers who don't have to be ordained to do the job.  

Training is always fun because quite often I meet people I've never met, but better yet, I have a chance to get re-acquainted with folks I've met and worked with before. This year was a mixed group of Canadians and Americans, and it turned out to be both a chance to explore the differences in EfM in the two countries, and the similarities we all have had as mentors. We have discussions on various topics, such as how to have "difficult conversations" such as racism, privilege, social justice, and cross-denominational talks. We talk about culture and how it affects our faith. We discuss how our faith leads us to take certain positions and results in specific actions, and how we encourage our group members to expand their ideas of what ministry is, how to read the Bible with eyes to the context of the time in which it was written, and development of prayer styles and routines that foster spiritual growth. It sounds easy, people sitting around and talking for five hours a day, but the depth and breadth of the conversations and mutual sharing take a lot of concentration and can give the feeling of having run a marathon at day's end. 

I dread training sometimes because it means committing to being up earlier in the morning than I would like, being more organized about my early morning routine, and preparing to be ready for class at a reasonably early hour. Since we do this online, we could show up in pajamas and birds-nest hairdos if we wanted. Still, it's like we have a sense of responsibility to the group to be a bit more professional, even if wearing t-shirts and jeans. Then we get to the classroom, and the energy starts to build. By 8 am, we're ready to go (maybe wishing we'd had time for one more cup of tea or coffee), and then we're off. By the end of the day, we're all tired. Still, we are also invigorated, excited, eager, and exhilarated by what we'd accomplished, and we have pages of handouts and personal notes to remind us of what we'd learned when we returned to our groups in the fall. 

It always happens to me. I start slowly, but as the end of the training gets closer, I try to absorb more and more like a dry sponge while striving to be a cat herder for my own thoughts and questions. More and more, all of us realized that what we had was a ministry that didn't require three years of seminary and an ordination to do.  I, like the others in the training group, feel we have been called by God to do this ministry of helping others learn what they believe, where that belief came from, and how what they learn can strengthen their faith and commitment. 

I finished the training this morning and wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a long nap, but there was housework to do, cleaning cat boxes, and a half million other things that I'd put off because of the seminar. Life doesn't stop because I'm having fun doing something other than routine tasks. Besides, I tell myself, sitting in a virtual room with a group of other people as passionate about a subject as I am, without masks and with clearly understood boundaries, is the closest thing to the previous "normal" as I was likely to get for some time. 

So why do I do it every year? Where else can I sit with a group of people and talk about things about which I am passionate? Most of the world wouldn't understand that joy in a topic that would perhaps be seen as crazy or unimportant or even stifling. Where else can I go to another room of people who are on a similar journey that I've been on or who are just starting one, and help them discover their own joy, passion, and ways to serve others. Where else can I continue to learn more about what my life journey is about and where spirituality fits in? 

I haven't gotten everything done yet, and I have an appointment tomorrow early that requires me to get the lead out very early tomorrow. Still, I'm processing the last few days and what they have meant and will mean to me as I mentor my group come September. There's a joy there and an impatience. God got me going this week, and I have a feeling there'll be more nudges to come. 

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, July 11, 2020.

Freedom and Independence

O God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.  – The Book of Common Prayer, Collect for Peace.  



July 4th represents a milestone in our lives as citizens of the United States of America. Not just America, which includes the countries of Canada, Central and South America, but the specific fifty (hopefully to soon become the fifty-first) states that make up our country. July 4th marked the day when the Congress approved the final draft of the Declaration of Independence of the combined colonies, having declared their independence from England on July 2nd.  All the signatures on the original document were not completed until August 2nd, 1776.


There were not a lot of fireworks demonstrations, parades, or even people gathering in the streets to mark the occasion. Probably most people did not get the news for days, weeks, or possibly months. Still, the country, led by delegates from the thirteen colonies, believed in the dream and boldly (perhaps not as prominently as John Hancock, but yet with great resolve) signed their name to a document that would be the foundation of the new nation.


We celebrate this holiday and remember the men who brought the idea into being. Many were men of some wealth, and some were even slaveholders. Many condemnations have been made of Jefferson's statement of "all men are created equal," based on the fact that women were not mentioned (or given any legal status) and that slaves were still slaves, considered far below the rank of white men. Despite proclamations to the contrary, "men" meant white men, not slaves, women, or Native Americans.

I have to consider the times during which the document was written. It was not exclusive to the new colonies, but was much of a worldwide perception. It is hard to blame the writers and signers for espousing something that represented much of the viewpoint of the world, much less the colonies, over 200 years ago. I think we have to give some leeway to those wordsmiths and their culture as we do the Bible and its ancient cultural biases.


The signers seized their freedom from a distant ruler and parliament by declaring their independence from a system that held them in contempt while profiting from the goods and services of the colonies. Freedom became independence, but the two things are not precisely equal.  Freedom means that a person or person has the right to act according to his or her own beliefs, moral code, and understanding (as long as it does not infringe on anyone else's rights). Independence gives them that ability, as well as creating a structure that benefits all under its umbrella. Christians have the right to their beliefs and practices, along with other religions within the borders of the country. They do not have the right to dictate that only Christian beliefs and practices (especially specific beliefs and practices to one denomination) are permitted.


Independence precludes the government from establishing a state-sponsored religion to which all must subscribe or face the consequences. We have the liberty to enjoy life and the pursuit of happiness – but we should not use that right to tread on, stifle, mock, or otherwise quash those of others, as long as the beliefs of others do not infringe on other individuals or groups.  In short, hate groups and crimes are against the will of God and the good of humanity.  


The Collect for Peace is one I look to on Independence Day because it reminds me that God gives liberty to those who trust and follow God's path. It does not mean a Christian's life is going to be all peaches and cream. There are times when Christians, true Christians, have to stand up and be counted. They have to stand for the teachings of Jesus, which echoed the practices of the ancient Hebrew religion about caring for the needy, the sick, the elderly, and so on. Jesus did not preach a gospel of prosperity but of giving away, sharing with one another so that no one would suffer from needing help. God gave us the independence to respond to those teachings positively or negatively. Those who followed them found that "perfect freedom" that comes from God.


The Collect also reminds us that God is with us, standing with us as we seek to rid the world of the slavery of inequality and protecting us from adversaries who would seek to destroy us and what we are trying to build. I think that's something we need to remember in this time of fear, anger, uncertainty, cruelty, and pain. Even if the peace we find is only within ourselves through the grace of God, we can pray that prayer and reflect that grace to others who need it so badly. We have the personal freedom to go without masks, but those who follow God's wishes will wear them to protect others from potential contamination. It is thinking of others that show true freedom.


I think that makes this prayer one that should be read, marked, and internally digested, especially on this national holiday. It could replace gathering in large groups, potentially spreading infection, and shooting off fireworks (which will save a lot of animals from becoming lost and frightened).


Happy Independence Day. Let us thank God for our freedoms and for those who felt strongly enough about them to risk all to help create a new nation.


God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul at Episcopal Café  Saturday, July 4, 2020.