Memorial Day Thoughts

Making small talk at a wedding reception recently a friend and I realized we have in common an odd bit of history. We are about the same age and we both know we are probably here because President Truman decided to avert the invasion of Japan by dropping the atomic bomb. How can this be?

My father was a signalman in the Navy. At the end of the European theater of war, he was sent with other selected signalmen to train for the invasion. They were to be dropped offshore, were to get on land the best they could, dig in, and help direct the invasion from their vantage point. The Navy expected a survival rate of 1 out of 10.

My friend’s father was an Army sergeant. After time in Europe, he was assigned to a special force being made up for first wave of the invasion. I don’t know what survival rate was expected for this, but pretty sure it was slim.

Anyway, they were in training at bases in California when the news came of the atomic bombing of first Hiroshima and then three days later, Nagasaki. Six days after the second bombing, Japan surrendered.

This post isn’t made to offer rational for the use of nuclear weapons. I cannot imagine the horror they created and pray the world will never see them used again. But here on Memorial Day as I think of so many who have died in service to our country, I do give thanks that two young soldiers got the chance to live, and to become dads. And it reminds me that we who live peaceable lives owe a debt of gratitude.

Revived

My friends and family know I have been deeply involved in the Aldersgate Special Needs Ministry here in S.C. Our goal is to provide secure dwellings for adults with developmental disabilities. I have been chairman of the Board for the past year and it has been a job dealing with governmental agencies, regulations, revenue sources, worried parents, disgruntled board members, etc., etc. - especially since I really have no experience in the gov regulation area. Fortunately I serve a church where they don't worry about the days I give to Aldersgate, though I do try to schedule most of that on my days off.

Honestly, there have been several times over the past couple of months when I've asked myself why. There's no one making me do this extra work. It's frustrating, and it's all volunteer. Well, yesterday I got my answer.

In the past two months we finally got both our homes operating. The women's home has six residents and the men's home has one resident, with three other young men in process to get the funding lined up. I went by the women's home for a visit yesterday, my first since the residents had moved in. What a good move for me.

I was greeted by two of the residents and their first words to me were: "We love our home!" I met with some of the staff we've hired to run the house, but the residents cut that short, wanting to show "their home" to me, and to show me how they'd decorated their rooms.

You could tell they were so comfortable there, and with one another. One of the young ladies usually speaks in a whisper, but the other girls knew that and encouraged her when I asked her a question. You could readily tell they were already becoming "family" for one another.

We were worried about the transitions these girls would be able to make from their families. What's happened is that the residents have told their parents they don't have to come visit and check on them. They are enjoying their new found "independence."

There are many times in ministry when we work and serve and never get to see the fruit of our labors. Wow, am I fortunate. The experience yesterday does make the six year journey to get there feel so worthwhile. It has been a blessing to work with some dedicated parents and board members over those years, and to witness how so many people have given time, effort and resources to this cause. There's still a lot of work to do, and a lot of money to raise, but now I know in a new way what a difference it all makes. Thanks be to God!

What to do during the Lord's Prayer?

When the Lord's Prayer is sung by a soloist, do you bow your head/close your eyes for a public prayer, or do you watch the singer as you would with any other performance? This delimma came to mind at the National Day of Prayer breakfast last week. After the welcome the local Lutheran pastor, an excellent tenor, sang the Lord's Prayer. I considered it a performance and turned to watch him. There are many other prayers set to music and we do not bow for them.

But I noticed that the event leaders across the stage, except for the guest speaker, all sat there with their eyes closed or heads bowed. To me it looked rather odd. So I looked around me and found the group comflicted - most bowed, a few watching like me, and many sneeking glances.
Does anyone have a proper protocol for this?

Easter Traditions

After a wonderful Taize Good Friday service with the area churches last night, we went home to a Taylor tradition, dying eggs. For 24 years we have dyed or painted emptied eggs and kept a few each year. They aren't amazing eggs, but their ours, and reflect the changes of the years. Even our dog, Cooper, got into the act, adding his special touch to one egg. Now the Big Basket holds over 150 eggs, and this year another dozen is added. I suggested this might be the last year, but of course, was voted down.

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Hit and Run or Not

"We saw your car get hit," were the words that greeted me at the church's Family Night Supper. I had just come out of a meeting and immediately I envisioned my Nitro, which I'd left parked on the street, rear-ended, and felt the adrenaline rush into my blood stream.

Turns out that the couple greeting me with such kindness were nursery workers this past Sunday and watched out the window as an elderly gent pulled in front of my parked car, and backed right into it. He didn't hit it hard, they said, but he never looked back. After he bumped into my front bumper, he pulled forward a bit, parked, got out and went on his way.

It's hard to keep from rushing ahead of the facts when you're hit with the unexpected, but I sure am glad I waited for the rest of the story before dashing out of the Fellowship Hall to "see the damage." Now, if I can just remember to do that when I have hit and runs with personalities!

March Madness

March Madness usually refers to the excitement and insanity of college basketball tournaments, and the people who are fervently devoted to keeping up with it all. All that was settled last night with North Carolina reclaiming the national championship in a commanding win over Michigan State.

But there’s another March Madness I just learned about, done by some folks fervently devoted to a whole different value system. A friend came to me Sunday and handed me some money which he wanted to go to help feed the hungry. He didn’t win his family’s March Challenge, but he had $179 to contribute.

The Challenge? Feed yourself for the month of March on $10 a day. At the beginning of the month, each family member got $310. Everything you ate for the month had to come from that: meals, snacks, drinks, whatever. Family members could “pool” their resources for shared meals, but each person had to keep up with their own money. Anything left over was to go to a mission of their own choosing, and the one with the largest gift won.

Here are the figures for a family of four, assuming the $179 was the average: $524 given to charity and $716 spent on food – an average food cost of $5.80 a day per person. What kind of madness it this?

By the way, the 2009 domestic meal per diem rate, set by the US General Services Administration ranges from $36 to $61 a day, depending on which section of the country you’re in.

What a great “Lenten” focus, a family challenge that makes each person conscious of what it actually takes to eat and what can be done when we “plan” to give. But I don’t recommend you try it, not unless you’re crazy enough to believe in a whole different value system that claims:

Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.. (Matthew 6).

Love Feast

To wrap up our church retreat we decided to have a Wesleyan Love Feast today instead of Holy Communion. Since no one on the retreat had done a Love Feast before I wasn’t sure how this would go over, especially the part where we share with one another our experiences of God’s love. The participants had been sharing in their small groups (squadrons) during the weekend, but now we were all in one group, one big circle.

Needless worry. No all shared, but many did. Soon all eyes were moist as young and old alike stood to tell about their experiences of God’s presence. Some shared thanksgivings and new folks told how they felt welcomed into the “family of God.” In this setting the love feast was the right service that opened us up to a powerful, shared spiritual experience. I guess we just had a different kind of holy communion today.

Basic Training

Have been at our church's annual retreat at the beach this weekend. The theme has been Basic Training, which I understanding is all about re-socialization. The army takes a civilian, re-socializes him or her to think and act like a soldier. We sure didn't attempt to get all that done in one weekend. But we did decide to talk about what we have to do as a community to re-socialize ourselves to be the people of God. Also, we divided into squadrons, and with a little team competition, have had a lot of fun.

There was a decision made early in the planning for this year's retreat that we would focus on community building, rather than bringing in a speaker. Relationships won out over more "head-knowledge." I think, seeing the participation, that it was a good decision. Sometimes, another good Bible study is not the right prescription.

Small Hinges

At an out of town meeting the other day I briefly encountered a fellow blogger in a group of ministers, and his greeting was even briefer. I remember his smile, but not his words exactly. It was something about the fact that neither he nor I had been blogging during February.

It was just a passing observation, nothing incriminating, nor particularly encouraging. And yet, it was that encounter more than anything that got me back to blogging. Interesting, isn’t it, how things turn on small hinges - chance encounters, an acknowledgment, or the recognition of a fellow pilgrim?

So, I’ve thought about today, not the meetings or conversations, but the brief encounters. I wondered if I left any encouragement in my wake as I passed by. That woman in the hospital elevator who looked so tired. I noted her weary eyes, but mine didn’t reveal anything in response. Blew that one.

But at the quick stop, when I bought the diet sprite, the woman in front of me wanted a pack of cigarettes and then two lottery tickets. The girl checking us out seemed conscious of the small line forming behind me, but we caught eyes and I said, “It’s OK, no rush,” and her eyes did smile back. Could that have been a hinge, maybe?

A Lenten Examination

My Lenten discipline is not denial, but examination. Denial hasn’t worked before. I might choose something to give up, but it wouldn’t be something crucial. And then, like a New Year’s Resolution, it would dissolve in a couple of weeks. Through pure human defect, I’m just not good at works righteousness.

So this year I choose an intentional routine of something necessary - a daily examination of the day, of self, and of God’s subtle magnificence. A discipline of filing the important stuff, sorting the demanding, and tossing the rest. And I begin with ashes.

I have always been disappointed with the turn-out for Ash Wednesday services, no matter how well attended. Disappointed, but not surprised. Who wants to come to church simply to be told, “You’re going to die”?

And yet, we come and pray, kneel and confess. To old and young alike, each age evoking its own ominous sensation in my chest, I say the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.” Perhaps we come to be told the truth, our truth - a truth so veneered and disguised that now-a-days we experience death only as a fiendish thief, rather than as a stubborn, necessary, companion in the pilgrimage.

Live. Whatever life tosses on the table before you, take it and live it well. Else the greedy companion will take it for his own. Examine the day, keep what needs to be kept, and let him have the rest.