Ho-Hum

I wish I had some profound reason for not having written much lately - but I don't. I could say I have been busy - which I have been. I could say it's because I've been sick - which I have been, sick enough to simply stay at home for 2 days this past week - nasty virus that's going around these days.

But perhaps the main reason I haven't written is that nothing has stirred within my heart to "blog about." I just haven't had much to say here lately. Which is AMAZING to those who know me. According to my mother, I began speaking very early and very clearly. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am RARELY at a loss for words. And anyone who knows any preacher, talking and words are not usually a challenge. But there has no topic that has burned within me of which I felt a need to share.

So, why am I writing now? I don't have any burning issue to share - no deep insight about which to pontificate. I often read many of the blogs that appear as a link on this page - many of them friends and colleagues. I am often impressed, challenged and inspired by what they write. Some write sporadically others write religiously.

When I first knew that I would be a part of the "blogging world," I made a commitment to blog at least once a week. But let's just say that hasn't happened like I originally planned. Sometimes it's because I've been too busy, sometimes because I've just put it off, but this time, I've simply had nothing to say. So it's led me to reflect a little in my life about those times in when we feel dry - nothing inspires us, nothing sparks our imagination, nothing burns within us to share with others.

Maybe it's a little like writer's block. Writer's sometimes struggle through dry spells, when they cannot begin or continue writing. There are several theories to writer's block. One theory says that writer's block is closely related to depression and anxiety. Another theory says that writer's block is due to the lack of ability to concentrate on or devote time to their writing. Yet another theory says that writer's block is part of the natural ebb and flow in the creative process.

That being said, I can honestly say that I am not depressed nor anxious. I am recuperating from the normal wear and tear of Christmas, settling back into a more regular routine and the last week or so 10 days of fighting a virus, and has left me all a bit drained - but not depressed or anxious. Maybe it's part of the natural ebb and flow of the creative process of writing, but as I reflect on the whole thing, I have to say that fundamentally I do not always have or create the time to concentrate on writing.

So, I'm thinking about where I need some space in my life for the creative juices to flow. Yes, there are always things to do, the work is never finished, there's always a need to be met, but before I can possibly imagine meeting all the demands of my days, maybe I ought to carve out some "down time," some space where I engage in some things that simply spark my creative juices, so that as I engage with the rest of my daily routine, I can meet the challenges with the spark of God's reflective creativity within me.

Just some thoughts - how about you? What do you need to break those dry spells in your life? What do you neglect that you know will feed your soul? How do you discipline your life to include reflective, creative time? Where do you struggle to order your life?

Just some thoughts - hope they make your think.

By God's Grace,
Michelle

For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear, For Auld Lang Syne

Happy New Year! The standard greeting in early January. I've never really liked New Years - well, more particularly, I've never really liked New Year's Eve. I find myself a bit melancholic every December 31. Oh, I like to watch the ball drop in New York Times Square, but all in all, I do not look forward to New Year's Eve.

It's true that the New Year offers a fresh new start - a blank page ready to be written upon. The New Year offers a whole year of new opportunities, the chance to improve myself, and to make new resolve to do some of those things I didn't get a chance to do in the Old Year.

However, as I contemplate the loss of the Old Year, I find myself slipping into a melancholic state - reflective of all that's passed and the time that seems to pass more quickly with each passing year.

When I was a growing up on New Year's Eve, we watched Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, playing in the Grand Ballroom of New York's Waldorf Astoria. Guy Lombardo and his band popularized the song "Auld Lang Syne," turning it into a New Year's Eve tradition.

Lombardo first heard "Auld Lang Syne" as a teenager in his hometown of London, Ontario, where it was sung by Scottish immigrants. When he and his brothers formed the famous dance band, Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, the song became one of their standards. Lombardo played the song at midnight at a New Year's eve party at the Roosevelt Hotel in New York City in 1929, and a tradition was born.

After that, Lombardo's version of the song was played every New Year's eve from the 1930s until 1976 at the Waldorf Astoria. In the first years it was broadcast on radio, and then on television. The song became such a New Year's tradition that Life Magazine wrote "that if Lombardo failed to play 'Auld Lang Syne,' the American public would not believe that the new year had really arrived." In fact, it's Guy Lombardo and His Royal Candians recording of Auld Lang Syne still plays as the first song of the new year in Times Square.

It's been said that "Auld Lang Syne" is one of the most popular songs that nobody knows the lyrics to. C'mon, admit it - off the top of your head, you can sing some of it, but all of it? "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and hum-hum-hum-hum-hum."

Auld Lang Syne - what does that mean, anyway? Literally translated from 18th century language of Lowlanders in Scotland, it means "old long since." A good idiomatic translation is "times gone by."

I guess that's what makes me feel nostalgic and yes, a bit weepy on New Year's Eve - remembering all the "times gone by." My nostalgia lingers awhile into January - reflective of all those "times gone by." And at the same time I'll reflect on whether or not I've been living the kind of life I ought to live - what do I say are my priorities and am I living in a way that reflects those priorities - where do I need to improve the way I'm living - where have I gotten off-track physically, spiritually, relationally?

All over the world, people welcome the new year for it is one of the oldest of all holidays. It is a time to reflect on the past and envision a future. I leave you with this: "Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better [person]." ~Benjamin Franklin

By God's Grace,
Michelle

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