Christmas Rush

On December 11, 2007, I had a minor panic attack. At some point that day someone mentioned this heart-stopping fact: "Two weeks today is Christmas Day!" They said it with a smile on their face - how COULD they - I was no where near ready...in fact not ready at ALL!

Of course, I knew Christmas was close, but when I heard that stark truth, that in 14 days Christmas Day was happening reality came crashing in on me. You see, two weeks before Christmas and I had not one Christmas present purchased, not one Christmas cookie baked, not one Christmas card written. I had been rushing to put Christmas decorations up, but RUSHING is the key word.

My husband Steve, try as he might to be supportive, was quite frankly....well...no help at all. He said things like, "Don't worry about it, we'll get everything done." (Oh REALLY?) He also said, "You know, you don't have to put every Christmas decoration up." (Blasphemer!) and "We don't need the cookies, we're trying to lose weight." (I know, but some things just mean Christmas!)

You see, Christmas holds such a special place in my heart and life. Of course, because of the birth of God's Son, our Messiah, God's heart wrapped in flesh. But on another level, Christmas has always been a very special time of the year. My mother transformed our home into a veritable winter wonderland. A tree laden with ornaments - each one holding a special memory of our lives. Electric candles in the window glowing with the orange glow of light bulbs. My father outlined the entire house in large multi-colored strings of light.

Each year he lugged the train platform upstairs from our garage. Two 4 foot by 8 foot homasote boards, having painted it all grass green, with white roads and sidewalks. He had also drilled holes and from underneath had wired strings of small lights (the kind of lights we often use on trees today, but in the 1960's they were screw-in bulbs). Over each light, one by one, we placed an entire Plasticville Village that my mother had meticulously glued, painted in great detail and hundreds of trees and bushes made from dried moss.

Plasticville people were everywhere and a wonderful train track that ran 2 trains, with whistling engines -- and a little red caboose bringing up the rear. My dad taught me to wave at the man in the caboose as it went by (my dad had at one time worked on the railroad - he knew what was what!). As we grew older, my brother and I sat for hours on end, running the train through town, making deliveries and imagining a whole town coming to life before our very eyes (when kids' didn't have so many electronic gadgets, we honed our vivid imaginations.)

And every Christmas Eve, I remember the magic of lying awake in bed, waiting in anticipation of the morning's treasure trove of gifts under the tree -- and living out the lyrics of that classic carol, The Christmas Song,...Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow...Will find it hard to sleep tonight... They know that Santa's on his way - He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh...And every mother's child is gonna spy...To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

So you see, all the things I do at Christmas - all the decorations, the cookies, the gifts - brings to life memories of Christmases past- when life was simpler, all was well with the world and for a season of time, the air held magic. Maybe my frantic efforts of keeping familiar traditions alive in my home has something to do with this -- "Christmas is the keeping-place for memories of our innocence."-- Joan Mills

By the way - 99% of my decorations have found a home...most of the gifts are purchased...no Christmas cookies yet and I may start a new tradition this year -- New Year's cards! And I'm reminded of a quote from one of my favorite Christmas T.V. specials - How the Grinch Stole Christmas, when the Grinch says, "It came without ribbons, It came without tags, It came without packages, boxes, or bags. Christmas can't be bought from a store... Maybe Christmas means a little bit more." -- Dr.Seuss"

As you gather round your Christmas trees this year and the dinner tables with family....as you thank God for entering this world in the mess of this world to lift us out of our mess, take a moment as well thank God for the traditions of Christmas. In a world that is changing so rapidly, our family traditions help anchor us to deeper values....of deepening relationship with God, family and friends...and of God's hope, love, joy and peace found wrapped in the swaddling cloths of the manger.

MERRY CHRISTMAS,

Michelle

Giving Thanks

It seems almost inevitable at this time of year to list the things for which we would give thanks. I give thanks to God for some much needed rest this weekend - time spent with our family, as well as, spending some time continuing the task of organizing ourselves in our new home. I'm thankful for our health, our home, the food we can afford to put on our table and the opportunity to be in ministry with the good folks of Christ Church here in Erie. There are many things I'm thankful for - too many to list here, if I really spent some time listing them out in any detail.

One of the things I most like about Thanksgiving - besides the food of course - is the time to slow down, sit still, relax and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Let me go on record as saying I do not generally enjoy parades at all. And the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is not the most spectacular parade. However, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is a treasured tradition from my childhood, and honestly, it would seem a little less like Thanksgiving if I didn't watch a goodly portion of it.

When I was a child, we slept in since we had no school, but my mother would always rouse us by 9:00 a.m. to watch the start of the parade on television. I remember anxiously watching for the balloons - Underdog, Popeye, Bullwinkle & Rocky the Flying Squirrel - among others, but those were always my favorites. I love watching and singing along to the Broadway musical songs that various groups would perform - some of them the actors from Broadway. And what would the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade be without the Radio City Hall Rockettes! Perfectly manicured, long-legged dancers who synchronize their movements with mesmerizing perfection! And for the grand finale, ending the parade and beginning the Christmas Season - Santa Clause! Wow - you can't get better than all that!

I can remember in the first few years of our marriage, I insisted on watching the parade. And if I would leave the room for any reason, Steve would often change the channel. When I came back into the room, I'd ask him, "Where's the parade?" His answer was often something like this - you weren't in the room, and it's only a parade. Only a parade! It's the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade! Just a parade - I don't think so!

I don't know what it is - but I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. And every year when I watch it, I go back a little in time each year, to when I was a child, sleepily emerging from my warm covers to the smell of turkey baking in the oven, our whole family gathered together at home, cuddled on the couch under one of the many afghans my mother crocheted, waiting for Santa Clause to appear in his magical sleigh. Maybe by watching it now, maybe life seems a little simpler for a few hours and all is right with the world.

I hope your Thanksgiving conjures up memories of simpler times and for a day or two, maybe, just maybe, you can enjoy simple living of being with your family, enjoying each other's company, good food and the abundance of God.

By God's Grace,

Michelle

A Tribute to My Father

Yesterday was Veteran's Day and I thought a lot about my father - Elmer Clayton Stewart. He died in 1994, at the age of 71. He grew up poor through the Great Depression. His mother died from tuberculosis when he was only 12-years-old, something which devastated him. Two years later, his brother - who was his best friend - died of the same disease. And he fought in World War 2, Army Infantry, 99th Division, 395th Battalion, Company L - he saw hard battle, especially during the Battle of the Bulge.

If you know anything about the Battle of the Bulge, it was a hard fought battle during the winter of 1944 primarily in the Ardennes Mountains of Germany. When the Allied forces won this battle, it was a turning point in ending World War 2. Now, I'm not an advocate of war, but I'm not a pure pacifist, either. I mostly ascribe to the Just War Theory. (To read more about Just War Theory - check this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Just_war).

I'd never say I'm in favor of war. But I'm very proud of my father's service to his country. I'm proud that my father selflessly sacrificed much to protect the world from a very clear and present danger. My father enlisted as a 19-year-old. He married my mother when he was 20 (she was 18) - 2 teenagers (basically) who started life apart for most of the first 3 years of their marriage. They were married on May 18, 1943. By the time he shipped out for Europe, my mother was pregnant with my sister. He left her behind not knowing if he'd ever see her again or ever see his unborn child. And unlike today, there were no emails to stay in touch with families.

My mother went for nearly 2 years not hearing much from my father - not knowing if he was dead or alive. He was in the battlefield, enduring one of the bloodiest battles of World War 2 - wounded twice and spending time in an England Hospital before returning home - mostly for battle fatigue. It was called shell shock in World War 1 and now called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. In World War 2 there was little treatment - just R & R -- Rest and Relaxation in a hospital ward while supposedly with time his mind and emotions healed.

My father never spoke much of his service - partly because he was a private man and partly because he couldn't bear the pain he had buried. Besides the horrors on the battlefield, part of the duty of his unit was to liberate P.O.W. camps - a horrendous task, considering how badly these prisoners of war had been tortured and starved. My father sacrificed much for the safety of the world. It changed who he was - I am firmly convinced that my father suffered for the rest of his life from that war. He wasn't diagnosed, but I suspect he struggled with depression. He drank too much - I think to numb the pain.

And while he suffered from what he had endured, I never heard my father whine or complain about what he had endured. He didn't blame the president or the government or even the Germans. He did what he felt was necessary at a time when the world was under attack. He flew the American flag in our front yard. I'm proud of my father.

I don't know if I ever told him, though. I don't remember ever thanking him for being brave. It wasn't easy to talk to about things like that with my dad. He would have thought that was too "mushy." He only said, "I love you," to me one time - but I knew always that he did love me. I only saw him cry one time - when he thought my mother was dying from peritonitis. I was 12-years-old at the time - the same age he was when his mother died. He never said so, but now I wonder if that was going through his mind - but he would never say.

I miss my father very much. And while I don't think I could have expressed to him my pride in his service to his country or thank him for being brave or struggling to keep it together for his family - I hope now he knows. And by the way - Tom Brokaw is right - they are the Greatest Generation.

By God's Grace,
Michelle

It's Here!

This morning I woke up to the first winter storm of the season here in Erie. Since we've moved here in July, everyone has said, "You've never seen an Erie winter. Just you wait!" So here we are, the beginning of winter weather here in beautiful Erie, Pennsylvania!

It started last yesterday. Rainy, dreary, cold, windy -- then the hail storm yesterday afternoon. And this morning - everything was white with snow - and it was cold and windy. Okay, it wasn't as bad as this picture - this was sent to me by a friend when he heard of my appointment to Christ Church titled, "Ministry in Erie." (Thanks, Keith!)

Our dogs, 2 miniature dachshunds, were NOT very happy about having to brave the wind whipping their long ears, slogging through the wet snow and slush - especially since they are so very low to the ground!


I was not very happy about slogging through the slush, either - and the wind whipping wet snow in my face wasn't very pleasant. And I had made several appointments to visit folks this afternoon, which meant I would be driving on this delightful day!

I must confess - it was a much more tempting thought to stay in the house, wrap up in a warm afghan with a cup of hot tea, and intermittently read, nap and watch the snow swirl around the window. I'm sure it would have been much more beautiful from that vantage point.

Right now we're under a "Lake Effect Snow Advisory" until 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. The wind is whipping wildly, the sleet is pelting the window and just think - there's more of this to come! Ah, well - all part of the bliss of living in Western Pennsylvania - which honestly, I would not trade for anything in the world.

So I invite you to pull up a chair, grab a hot cup of tea (or coffee, hot chocolate or cider), and ponder these words, one of my favorite poems, that I fell in love with as a child, with woods in my own backyard:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost (1923)
Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Give thanks to God for every day - even winters in Erie!

By God's Grace,

Michelle

Birthday Blessings

Yesterday was my birthday and this entire week has been a blessing. On Wednesday, the staff at Christ Church threw me a surprise brunch. They even got my husband Steve in on it. Although, poor guy, he doesn't lie very well -- which is good, but not when you're in on a surprise party. Then the next day, both Thursday Bible study groups surprised me with a cake. Then there were the many cards and emails from folks at Christ Church wishing me a happy birthday. Cards came from friends in the mail. My son Craig even remembered to call from Greensburg! (I love him, but he sometimes forgets or needs a reminder).

This is the first birthday in a long time that so many people remembered my birthday. What a blessing to be cared for by so many people. I've only been here at Christ Church for 4 months, but feel so comfortable and at home. It was so good to sit around the table with our staff and just talk, laugh and eat together. Usually we gather round that table for staff meetings, but how wonderful it was to simply gather round for fellowship.

Jesus often "sat at table" with people. In fact he got in trouble for hanging out with drunks & gluttons. There's something about sitting down to share a meal and conversation. You grow closer to people. That's why it's so important for families to sit down together for meals. You get to let your hair down and be yourself, no pressure to get any "business" done, just get to know each other better and to connect in relationship with one another outside of our "official" relationships. What a joy!

So I'm grateful to God for the day of my birth and for the many people who have been and are a part of my life. I'm very grateful that God has put me in such a great church as Christ Church. IHow much fun it is, and how vital, to break bread together.

By God's Grace,

Michelle

Rhythms of Nature

I know, I know, it's been a while since I've blogged. I wish I didn't sing the same song again and again, but I have indeed been very busy. Last week I spent a few days at Olmsted Manor with a group of other U. M. clergy who are part of a 3-year Pastor's Stewardship Academy. We're in the beginning of our third and final year. By the way, if you're not aware of this gem we have here in Western PA, part of our Western PA Conference in The United Methodist Church - here's a link: Welcome to Olmsted Manor .

I carpooled with a colleague and friend of mine. As we set out on our 2 hour journey to Olmsted Manor, his father was with us - he was dropping his father off, back to his home. As we drove the country roads to this man's home, he talked a lot about what was going on around us, most of it doing with the rhythms of nature. Since he's been a farmer all of his life, he knew these rhythms well.

He talked about seeing a male turkey strutting in a field with a flock of female turkeys and said, "That's unusual to see a turkey strutting with the hens this time of year." Or as he talked about hunting, he spoke of knowing when to find certain kinds of animals, where they hid, how they could be spotted and flushing them out into the open. He spoke of seeing the same turkey in the same spot over the course of several seasons - no one could get him, seems as though he had figured out what were real hens and what were hunters' calls. He also spoke about the fields of various crops, how he was in the process of clearing the last plants, finding a few butternut squashes he had missed in the last crop of the field. He spoke of the different kinds of wheat and beans, how the weather this year had been good or bad for those crops.

As he continued speaking, I watched out the windows at the empty fields, the beautiful flashes of brilliant fall leaves on the trees, and flocks of turkeys and even seagulls in the fields, my heart began yearning for the ability to know the rhythms of nature as he does.

For the most part, my days are not often predictable. There are those certain things I can depend on - the meetings on Monday's, staff meetings on Wednesday's, Bible study and hospital visits on Thursday, etc. Despite this, I find it difficult to maintain a rhythm to my life. I'm not talking about the usual unexpected interruptions that come with pastoral ministry - the crisis in a person's life, a death, a drop-by visit with the words, "Can I talk with you pastor?" I'm talking about a certain rhythm and balance to my days and life.

I struggle to find time each day for work, rest and play. Well, that's not exactly right - I find PLENTY of time every day that I devote to work. And while I love my work in ministry, I also love spending time with my family, I love pursuing my hobbies, and I love enjoying time with my friends. Why is it I can't find the balance of prayer, meditation, sabbath rest, work, fun, family and friends. Why is it so difficult to do what I know I need?

When I get out of balance - mostly because my schedule is too full of work and too little sabbath - I know it. When I get out of balance I begin to resent the time I spend with work, I begin to resent the Church, I sometimes even begin to resent God's call in my life. None of this is healthy. I know it, God knows it, and yet from time to time I find myself caught in an unending treadmill of work.

I imagine it's not much different for you if you work in industry, education, health care, or any other field. We often think that the things that tempt us are awful things and we'll recognize them coming a mile away. Remember - the object that tempted the first humans was a juicy, delicious piece of fruit. The things that often tempt us are appealing - who would say that tending to the spiritual needs of people or being a strong leader for the church is a bad thing? Some might even say that sacrificing your own needs is a noble thing.

Except.....God said, "Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." (Exodus 20.8). The problem is that we forget the Sabbath day and then we profane this day that God has set aside for our benefit and to God's glory. Marva Dawn in her book Keeping the Sabbath Holy, writes of how the Sabbath day is there for us to 'cease and desist' not just from our work but also from all those things in our life that we pursue out of a need to be productive and in control of our lives. She writes, that in remembering the Sabbath and keeping it holy, "we will recognize the great healing that can take place in our lives when we get into the rhythm of setting aside every seventh day all of our efforts to provide for ourselves and make our way in the world. A great benefit of Sabbath keeping is that we learn to let God take care of us -- not by becoming passive and lazy, but in the freedom of giving up our feeble attempts to be God in our own lives."


Yearning for rhythm and balance - I truly believe my yearning for rhythm and balance is God's prevenient grace at work in my heart, calling me to remember Sabbath and keep it holy. God's prevenient grace reminding me that I need Sabbath and God's Spirit stirs mine to yearning. Here's a poem I found on line, written by John David Walt. Read it and consider what it means in your life:

Rest in Rest

Holy Leisure

Airtight Time

Sabbath

Creation slowing

Eyes open

Ears hearing

Sabbath

Sacred rhythms

guiltless feasting

Heaven hugging

Sabbath

Nothing doing

Nowhere going

Work unknowing

Sabbath

By God's Grace,

Michelle

Liberating Grace

Our Bishop, Tom Bickerton, is spending time on each of the districts in our Annual Conference. He was with us on the Erie-Meadville District this past Thursday. In general, he spoke about doing those things as a church that will choose life rather than death. One of the things he said pierced my heart. It pierced my heart, because it was a reminder that I needed.

As our Bishop spoke of the church, he said something to this effect: It's not about you. Clergy come and clergy go. Laity come and laity go. The church lives on. The church has been here for thousands of years and will be here long after we come and go.

Those words moved me to tears, because they were very liberating words. For any of us who are conscientious about ministry - for any of us who care about the ministries we are engaged in - for any of us who are concerned about the health of the church --- the truth is that we work very hard so that things go well in the church. Because we care so much and work so hard, we can get to a point where we think it's all up to us; then we work harder and harder thinking that if we make one little mistake, the whole thing comes down like a house of cards -- or -- we think that if we don't do it, it won't get done or done well.

The truth is that we ought to do our best and work hard at what we do - but it's not about us. We serve and are members of our churches, but they are NOT our churches. They are God's churches, and since God is always in control, we can relax a little from our labors from time to time. Since God is always in control, that means that we can freely take time to rest, time to play, time to sleep, time to enjoy the fullness of this life that God has graced us with.

With that in mind, I spent a lot more time with my family this weekend and doing some things that simply needed done in our home. Today, for instance, I spent some time weeding out the garden area in the backyard of the parsonage today. Since we moved here in July, a little late for planting season, we've not done much with the area. We haven't done much -- but that hasn't stopped things from happening -- weeds! Lots of them and in 3 months, they've gotten pretty big.

Well, today I plunged in -- in an hour or so I cleared out about 3/4 of the weeds. It's very therapeutic to r-i-p weeds out by the roots (especially if you're frustrated!). At the end of my efforts, something was accomplished. It reminded me of why I need to keep my hobbies of sewing, quilting and needlework going - my efforts achieve measurable results in a fairly reasonable time period.

I know I'm not receiving enough Sabbath rest when I lay my head on the pillow at night with the work of the church on my mind and when I wake up the next morning, my first thought are all the things I need to do that day --- that's been happening a lot lately.

This weekend I made a deliberate effort to turn it all off and not think about all the things of the church. It's very liberating to know it's not all about me -- it's about God. God's grace at work in a "garden" full of weeds - a place where I was able to vent my frustrations, accomplish a much needed task and shut off my brain from thinking about all the "to-do" lists. So tonight I'll lay my head on the pillow, ready for rest and know that God is taking care of the church.

By God's Grace,
Michelle