To Be Thankful

 

Thanksgiving is over now, but it still lingers in Black Friday sales, turkey leftovers, and football games. Christmas decorations have been up in the stores since Labor Day, so any seemingly Thanksgiving-oriented ones disappeared by midnight on Thursday. The same will happen at Christmas. Valentine’s Day cards, candy, and lingerie will be on store shelves before Christmas Day ends. Fortunately, people who put up Christmas lights at least seem to wait until New Year’s Day, if not waiting for the Christmas season to end on Epiphany, as observed by many denominations. I’m thankful for those folks.

But back to Thanksgiving. At least on one day of the year, it is a kind of reminder to the country that we have much to be thankful for – besides Black Friday sales, etc., as listed above. Even if slightly cracked by the last elections and increasing crime, violence, and political maneuvering, we are still a nation. Opposing forces haven’t invaded us. We still have families, friends, and our four-footed family members.

We have people who care for each other, even if the others are perfect strangers. We have first responders and service personnel who help us when we are in trouble or danger and do it willingly. There are medical service workers who care for us on holidays as surely as on regular days because they are called to be helpful. We have volunteers who run food banks (which depend on volunteer contributions) and thrift stores. We have those who work on Thanksgiving Day to feed those who choose to dine out on holidays. We also have those who work in soup kitchens on Thanksgiving and other days to provide meals for those for whom a hot, home-cooked meal is a necessity rather than a luxury.

Many are suffering from chronic or fatal diseases, and for whom this may be the last time to give thanks with those they love. We are thankful for the caregivers and respite workers who care for them. We remember those who are elderly, alone, suffering homelessness, mental illness, newly diagnosed or newly bereaved, and those overcome by daily life and hopelessness. We pray for them regularly, and sometimes we get involved in ministries where we can help those for whom we pray.

Even though Thanksgiving Day is over, being thankful isn’t something we need to relegate to one particular Thursday at the end of November. We talk a lot about being grateful but are we using actions to prove it? My Education for Ministry (EfM) group discussed this in our last session. One story we discussed was the sight of someone in a grocery checkout line paying for someone else’s basket of groceries as well as their own. We agreed that that was a wonderful gift from one person to a stranger, but as I think about it now, it produced two acts of thanksgiving. One was the person receiving the gift of groceries, which probably included basic things plus perhaps things for Thanksgiving dinner. The other was the thanksgiving of the giver whose heart was touched and who could provide for someone else.

Thanksgiving should be more than one day of overindulgence in turkey with all the trimmings and multiple desserts, family games and televised football, or even driving to celebrate with family and friends once a year. Many people have said the same essential thing many times, but maybe repeating it won’t hurt.

This year I’m grateful for my family, my friends, both living and deceased, my trailer home, a cabinet with food in it for me and my two fur-kids, heat, electricity, the internet that keeps me connected with so many, my EfM group, my faith, music, books that make me think, and the people who read my musings. I’m also grateful for my companion cat, Gandhi, who passed over the Rainbow Bridge this past Wednesday morning after 15+ years together with his brother and sister-cousin.

I keep saying I will work on being thankful more than one day a year, and for the most part, I succeed nearly every day, but nearly isn’t quite enough. My goal is to be thankful and to remind God that I am every day, several times a day. I can call it a New Year’s resolution since Sunday marks the beginning of a new church year, and it seems to fit.

Thank you for being part of this journey of mine.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November 26, 2022.

The Blanket of Humanity

 

I like this time of year. I enjoy being cold; it makes such a great change from the 110° heat. I can always put more clothes on, but I cannot always take enough off. Besides, I love cuddling under a blanket and/or duvet with a purring cat next to me. I’ve been sleeping much better since all this started, and I love that too.

It’s also a great time for knitting. My hands don’t sweat as I work the yarn, and my fingers don’t slip off the needles, sometimes taking some stitches with me. My color scheme changes a bit with the change of season, and I tend to use more autumnal colors than in spring and summer, but now and again, something comes up that makes me change my schemes. One is if someone I know is having a baby and, perhaps, knows the gender of the said baby ahead of time. I think every knitter should have a baby to knit for now and then – or maybe a sailor, a preemie, an abandoned child, a chronically ill person, or a senior. Somehow, though, babies are the most fun.

A friend asked me to make a blanket for an impending baby boy, the son of a friend of theirs. I found some lovely yarn – a three-ply yarn with two strands of white and one of a very pronounced baby blue. And so I set forth.

It knit up so soft and cuddly in a pale shade of blue all over. Up close, though, I could see definite strands of white and blue twisted together. The blend softened the brighter blue, and the white gave it a cloud-like appearance. They were different strands, but they melded together just perfectly.

I started to think about diversity and how it played into my knitting. Then I widened my view a bit. If I viewed a crowd from a very high altitude, I doubt I could pick out people of various races, cultures, and such, much as I couldn’t pick out the shades of yarn I was using. But up close, that all changed.

There are all kinds of people who make up who I walk next to or face as I walk down the street. Some stand out, perhaps because they are smiling, laughing, or wearing something bright and colorful. Others blend into the background as if they are hiding or prefer a more somber way of dressing. Some speak English, others Spanish, but now and again, I hear German or one of the Asian languages. It reminds me of riding the city busses in Washington, DC, when I visited there. It was such a wonderful place to people-watch and hear various tongues even if I didn’t understand them. Like the blanket yarn, each person stuck out in their own particular way, yet blended together in the great blanket of humanity.

Who sits in your church pews? With whom do you share office space? Who plays on your child’s soccer team? Who is your doctor? What about the clerk in the store you patronize? Do they all look like you? Do they speak the same language as you? Are their meals reflective of a culture unfamiliar to you, or perhaps a dish you always order at a restaurant? Do you see others as different than you, or are they just part of the makeup of a world where you live and move and have your being?

Diversity is like going to a yarn shop and enjoying all the available colors, combinations and weights. Riding the bus in DC was an exercise in the same kind of experience. Now I know the conglomeration of different people in Walmart, a yarn shop, the car wash, the church, or the golf course. I can appreciate them as being as different as snowflakes, yet all coming together to make drifts and snowmen.

Above all, I give thanks to God for all the diversity in the world. Without it, it would be a very dull place.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November 19, 2022.

A Metaphor for Relationship

 

If there's one thing that Education for Ministry (EfM) has given me is a whole fountain of new things to reflect on. EfM is usually a four-year course, but I'm in my fourteenth year with it and still learning new things and acquiring new points to consider.

I had to attend a yearly training seminar like I do every year. It keeps me accredited as a mentor for my group and also gives me an opportunity for new experiences. If I find I'm not good with something, I can ask that we cover it in the seminar, and I can learn to do better. If I'm reasonably strong on something, I can share my experience and knowledge with others to help them later in their own journey as mentors.

I attended a training seminar last month, and, like every year, my batteries got recharged, just as my brain got filled with new ideas and techniques. I gained new insights that hopefully will serve my group well. I also came back with new things to reflect on later to gain insights I could apply to my life as a mentor and as a Christian.

Like many of them, a simple question opened the group to personal reflection and sharing. We were asked to answer the question, "What kitchen gadget represents your relationship with God?" It sounds a bit goofy, taken out of context. Still, it is a kind of question we use as a check-in on our group members, giving them a chance to respond and incorporate how their past week has gone. Some answers are amusing, some painful to hear, others uplifting, but all are insights that can start any one of us on a meditational journey of our own sometime later.

It's funny, but simple questions are often the hardest to answer. I don't remember how I answered that one when it was raised in one of our sessions, but it's come back for a second round of meditation and seeking. My first thought is that I would be a spatula, always turning things over to find out where I am and where I am going in my relationship with God. I could also be a whisk or hand mixer combining various ingredients into a unified whole before adding to something else to make a cake, an omelet, a sauce for a stirfry, or a milkshake. God comes in as a recipe to follow to produce a product to give me pleasure, delight, or sustenance or to give to others as a sign of love, comfort, or simply for the joy of giving.

There are so many other ways I could answer. I could be a paper towel to clean up a mess I made before God knocks on my door for a visit or a bundt cake pan I love because of the design it gives to the baked cake. Maybe I am a strainer that separates something unwanted from what needs to be kept, with God deciding which is which. There seems to be no end to what I could be or opportunities to ask myself the question later.

One conclusion I could draw is that I want to please God and to love, support, and comfort my neighbor, just as Jesus directed. Another is that even if I make a mistake or a mess, God forgives me for it and helps me clean it up, with no loss of love from God. 

I love questions like this that actually make me think about something important – my relationship with God. It can also change if I pursue the insights using a different ordinary thing, feeling, or situation. It is a mental and spiritual exercise, each being important in its own realm.

What kitchen gadget would represent your relationship with God? Give it a try. Your mind might serve up some interesting thoughts for you to ponder.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November 12, 2022.

Microwaves and Crock Pots

 

Every year I am obligated to attend an 18-hour training to retain my accreditation and act as a mentor in the Education for Ministry (EfM) program. I look forward to it every year. I finished the seminar and was excited to go back to my online group and try to motivate them as I was inspired by my training group.

This year, our trainer presented a story about a man named James. He was a very kind man, always doing the best he could to help others and doing it joyfully. I can't remember the whole story, but evidently, James was asked how he could be so good and kind when people sometimes mistreated him or were ungrateful for his help. He responded, "We may live in a microwave time, but we have a crockpot God." I admit I've been thinking about that since I heard it.

It's no secret that we live a much faster-paced life than has ever been lived before. In just my lifetime, I've seen the rise of drive-thru restaurants, space travel made possible, more and faster automobiles (now including computers, which weren't around when I was a child either), cell phones, and the internet. I can now order whatever I fancy eating just by looking up a phone number on the computer and then dialing my cell phone. I can get a new book the day it is released simply by placing an order online and having Amazon deliver it to my electronic reader. I can participate in groups like EfM without having to drive to a church or hall at night, and I can wear my pajamas while I'm with my group via Zoom. I can have my doctor call a prescription to the pharmacy, who will deliver it to me within a couple of hours, and the pizza I crave comes even faster!

I admit I look back at how things were when I was a child, where I could read a book or play outside rather than watch TV or play video games. My best friend was our dog because there weren't any kids my age in my neighborhood. I don't remember having a library in our town until I was in my teens. Now I can look up just about anything anytime, day or night, without going anywhere other than my living room. All my neighbors knew me, and I couldn't have gotten in trouble if I  had wanted to. There were just too many kind eyes keeping an eye on me. Looking back, it was the kind of childhood I wish my son could have had.

Now, about the comment about the crockpot God, I admit, when I first read it, I read "crackpot." Even on the second reading, I was still trying to figure out what James was getting at. Then it hit me, James was talking about God not being in a constant hurry like we are. God sees time differently than we do, even though when creating the world, God set up the precursor of daylight savings time and 24-hour service.

Crockpots take ingredients like meat, potatoes, vegetables, water, broth, and seasonings, all put in and then covered. The magic starts when the pot is turned on, and for the next few hours, the ingredients release their flavors and mix to make an excellent stew or superb soup. The longer it cooks, the tenderer the meat will be and the more flavorful the combination. It even releases a delicious aroma that welcomes the family home from school, practice, or work.

God works that way, slowly and thoroughly. God could say a word or snap two fingers and change anything faster than an eye can blink, but God doesn't do that. We often pray, asking for something to happen quickly to heal someone or perhaps solve a problem right away. That's our microwave thinking. But God may set things in motion and let time and a little heat make the outcome whatever it is supposed to be. With a crockpot, it is good to stir it a few times during cooking. The same goes for that period between asking God for something and expecting results. Most of the time, God expects us to add a pinch more salt or another ingredient that doesn't need to be cooked as long. We have hands so that we can lend them where and when required.

I've learned from James's statement that perhaps I need to slow down a bit, open up a little, be more helpful and cheerful, and be more in line with God's thinking and, perhaps, cooking. I can't race through life, ignoring people who need my attention or help. I need to slow down, look around more, and be more deliberate in my living. I need to use the crockpot more and the microwave less. And the big thing is to remember that just because I put something in God's hands doesn't mean I keep my hands totally out of it from then on. I need to stir the crockpot now and then and learn to help others with deliberation and cheerfulness. I need to work in partnership with God – preferably with the speed and thoroughness of God, in God's time, not mine.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November  5, 2022.