Bloom Devo

The Journey is the Destination

3/1/2021

Our retirement plans include traveling across the country and into Canada in our motorhome while exploring National Parks and other wonders of nature. We’ve wandered through the southwest desert, climbed the hills at Mesa Verde, gaped at the mud pots and boiling springs in Yellowstone, hiked on red clay trails at Arches National Park, enjoyed the snow-covered craggy peaks at Glacier National Park, explored the Canadian Rockies, and had a dozen other adventures. We have taken at least two long trips a year that last six to eight weeks each as we happily check destinations off our bucket list. We were discussing our tentative itineraries for spring and fall trips last year when Covid 19 brought our travels to a screeching halt. Many of the attractions at our anticipated locations were completely shut down or only partially opened. So, we put our travel plans on hold and focused on the possibilities closer to home.

I had been working for several years on a book about the strategies I created to cope with fibromyalgia that eventually resulted in complete remission of my symptoms. I had written a few pages off and on and then put it aside for weeks at a time. Galivanting around the country in our motorhome was more fun than the hard work of producing an entire book. During this past year of interrupted travel plans, I finally finished writing it. Vic contributed his medical perspective to each chapter. We finished Practical Priorities for Fibromyalgia Recovery during our quarantine year. The book was released on January 25, 2021 and is available on amazon.com and at your favorite bookstore. You never know what might happen when the plans you have are disrupted by the new plans you create. Life is an adventure.

Vic and I have been on our grand adventure together for over forty-eight years. We served as missionaries in Colombia, South America for six years, traveled on numerous volunteer mission trips, worked in our local church, raised two wonderful children, and have been blessed with six grandchildren. I have taught first grade and high school Spanish, been a freelance writer, and worked in Vic's medical office. Vic worked in an ER, practiced family medicine in a small town for thirty years, and taught medical students in a rural medicine program. There have been times of doubt, renewed faith, debilitating sickness, recovered health, heavy sorrow, inexplicable joy.

So where do we go from here? And how will we know when we get there? Well, I have to admit that is kind of a trick question. You see, I don't think we ever get there. The journey is the destination. Followers of Jesus, the Son, never arrive because there is always more to learn of him along the way. Those who believe in God the Father, find new revelations of the loving Creator each day. His mercies are new every morning. When we are guided by the Holy Spirit, we can rest assured that whatever the future holds, his grace will be more than sufficient for us.

We have had our first Covid vaccine so things are looking up on the viral front. I have no idea what this year will bring, but I know one thing for certain. We will continue to greet each new day with joyous expectation of what it may hold. We will pray that God will show us more of who he is and teach us to be more of who he has created us to be. We will sit in our rocking chairs in the sunroom drinking our morning hot ginger tea and chat about anything and everything while we gaze out the windows into the beautiful woods behind our home. Maybe we will pack up the motorhome and travel out into the wide waiting world. I hope we will get to laugh with our grandchildren, visit our family, have friends over for dinner, read a book, maybe even write another one. Most of all we will be thankful for the journey no matter where the destination leads, because we know that the blessing of living this life together in God's love, peace, hope, and grace is everything.

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The Light Has Come

12/18/2020

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Christmas is next week. Usually, the holiday season is filled with light and laughter and festive gatherings with friends and family. But it’s different in 2020. The world seems dark right now. There is political unrest, increasingly contentious posts on social media, and a raging worldwide pandemic. Christmas won’t look the same for many folks this year. My mother, children, and grandchildren usually come to our house for a weeklong holiday house party. Due to the sharp increase in Covid cases, we aren’t gathering this year. There are no holiday parties, choir cantatas, church pageants, and crowded candlelight Christmas Eve services to anticipate. While meditating on the current darkness, the memory of a long-ago Christmas popped into my mind.

We were preparing to celebrate our first Christmas as missionaries in Barranquilla, Colombia. The city was filled with palm trees and bougainvillea, but nary an evergreen was to be found in that tropical climate.

We had packed an artificial green tree and a box of ornaments in a nook of the shipping container of personal belongings that had arrived by boat from the states. The children were excited as we dragged the trimmings into our sweltering living room. Jack Frost definitely was not nipping at our nose. It was so hot in December in our coastal Caribbean city that we had on shorts and sandals. We pointed a creaking oscillating fan toward the tree in an effort to stave off passing out while we decorated. There was much laughter, singing of carols, and rambunctious joy as our preschoolers tossed ornaments on branches with wild abandon. We turned on the tree lights and stood back to admire our handiwork. Then we trooped off to fix supper.

This might be a good time to mention that electrical service was not exactly reliable in our city. Sometimes the electricity worked perfectly. At other times, we had no power for hours or days at a time. In addition, the electrical wiring in our South American home was a bizarre tangle of confusing connections. There were no universal government requirements or standards for wiring installation. In the middle of preparing supper that night, we were plunged into sudden darkness. As I rummaged in the junk drawer for a flashlight, we peeked out the kitchen windows. Our entire neighborhood had experienced a blackout. The lights were out in every direction. And then we walked into the living room and saw something quite unexpected. The colorful twinkling bulbs on our recently decorated Christmas tree shimmered in the blackness.

To this day, we have no idea how or why our Christmas tree lights managed to stay on while the rest of our barrio remained shrouded in darkness. The only explanation we could come up with was that the wire to the outlet where the tree lights were plugged in must be connected to a power source somewhere far beyond the boundaries of our neighborhood. Those red and green and blue and yellow bulbs were the only visible light for as far as the eye could see.

What a precious memory to come to me at the exact time I needed it! I was reminded that my true source of joy and light doesn’t come from staying connected to my usual Christmas traditions, to my family, to holiday parties, or to church activities. Light and hope come from staying connected to my true power source. His name is Jesus. He dwells far beyond the boundaries of my neighborhood, my country, my expectations. He fills the whole world with his light and glory. Although his light and love extend farther than I can imagine, they also reside as close as my heart. Christmas will look different this year. At first glance, life may seem a bit dark and dreary right now. But the truth is, we can celebrate and rejoice no matter what is going on around us. Even in this incredible year of turmoil, we can find our way to peace and joy because of Jesus. The Light has come.

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Few Things are Fatal

11/5/2020

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The 1970s was a busy decade for us. We graduated from college and got married. Vic finished medical school and completed his family practice residency. I was hired for my first teaching position. We had two children. And we went through the process of being appointed as international missionaries.

This involved lots of paperwork, meetings with missionary candidate consultants, research, and prayer about which country would be our new home. When we first contacted the missionary sending agency, Vic was a medical school student and I was teaching first grade at a small Christian school. We didn't have any children yet. The possibility of moving to a different country seemed like a wonderful opportunity for an adventure in faith.

Then we had our first child. Gazing into the sweet tiny face of our beautiful baby girl, I suddenly had a lot of specific questions related to safety and health conditions in the countries we were considering.

Vic finished his residency, we were appointed as missionaries, and we went to seminary where we had our second child, a cute and lively sweet baby boy. By then, the thought of moving with two young children to an unknown land struck me as more of a reckless idea than an adventure in faith.

Despite my reservations, God continued to confirm that this was his plan for us. And since I was worried about safety issues, of course we felt a persistent holy nudge to go to Colombia - in the middle of the Pablo Escobar drug war years, no less. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?

By the time we went to Georgia for four months of missionary orientation in preparation for the big move, our children were one and three. I had a growing list of questions and concerns. One week, the area director for our region of South America came to the orientation campus to spend time with all of the appointees preparing to serve in one of the countries under his jurisdiction.

J. Bryan "Breezy" Brasington and his wife, Vickey, were such wonderful, encouraging, kind, optimistic mentors for new missionary families. We are blessed that we had the privilege of knowing them both. Breezy always had a story to share, a smile on his face, and wise words for just about any situation.

When we had our scheduled time with him, I pulled out my list of questions and fears. I'll never forget something Breezy said during our conversation, "You don't need to worry too much. Few things are fatal." He was not discounting my concerns, and he was certainly not making light of people who face terminal illnesses and death. Rather, he was reminding me to put things into the proper perspective. He spent the afternoon sharing humorous missionary tales, reassuring us, encouraging us to trust God, and reminding us that most of the time things are not quite as awful as we imagine they might be.

During our years of missionary service, "Few things are fatal" became our motto. When we didn't have running water for a week, the electricity stayed off for days, the washer broke down, our car was stolen at gunpoint, a bomb went off a block from our house, our son's kindergarten class was sent home for the day so the janitorial staff could get rid of the tarantulas that had invaded the classroom, our living room flooded in the middle of a children's Bible class, a rooster ran through the church, and it was so hot we almost passed out decorating the Christmas tree - we would invariably look at each other, laugh, and say, "Oh, well. Few things are fatal." Those six years in Colombia gave us the joy of working alongside our Colombian brothers and sisters in Christ, connected us to an extended missionary family we still cherish, changed our ideas about what is important in life, taught us the value of diversity and inclusion, helped us recognize God is present in spaces far beyond our little corner of the planet. (And our children got to have some really interesting pets.)

After we returned to the states, these wise words continued to provide clarity on the truly important things in life. We are blessed with family and friends who love us, a life more often filled with joy than sorrow, and a loving God who is present with us in all the moments of our days. We have no reason to complain even when we are sick, relationships change, difficult people discourage us, the dishwasher quits working during Thanksgiving dinner, a tree falls on the roof, a deer jumps in front of the car, we don't get our way, customer service techs drive us nuts, and life just seems hard. There is always something to be grateful for, and besides, "Few things are fatal."

One day fatal will become my reality in the form of an accident or an illness that is not survivable. But even then, when death comes, it will only be to call me home. For death is never truly fatal for those who believe in Jesus. It is just a new beginning in a new place where our perspective will be forever changed to everlasting life and unending joy.

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Who is My Neighbor?

10/19/2020

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I heard Reverend Michael Curry, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, preach the guest sermon yesterday at the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection. I was in Alabama, the church is in Kansas City, and he was speaking from his home via Zoom. Technology rocks! Sermon by Bishop Michael Curry.

Bishop Curry’s text was Luke 10:25-37. It includes a discussion between Jesus and a religious legal scholar about the way to salvation and abundant life that leads to Jesus sharing the parable of the Good Samaritan. This is such a well-known scripture passage that people both inside and outside the church are familiar with at least the general concept of the story. Grab a Bible and read the tenth chapter of Luke if you want to refresh your memory.

Jesus asks the religious expert to summarize his view of scripture and he replies, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27 NIV) Jesus commends him for this answer. I can’t stop thinking about verse 29. The religious guy wants to prove that he’s always right in all his attitudes and actions so he asks Jesus a loaded question, “Who is my neighbor?”

What did he really want to know? I think he wanted a list of all the people he was required by his religion to care about and all the people he was permitted by religious law and social custom to ignore. But Jesus doesn’t give him an easy out through a simple list. He tells him a story, a story with a twist and a surprise ending. A Jewish traveler was robbed, beaten, and left bleeding on the side of the road. He needed help but none of the people most well-positioned to offer assistance gave him the time of day. Two respected churchy guys, a priest and a Levite, saw the injured man and walked right on by. It was a Samaritan who assessed the situation and stopped to offer the man extravagant care. The Samaritans and the Jews were bitter enemies who avoided all contact with one another. Yet, it was the Samaritan who bandaged the Jewish man’s wounds and carried him to an inn where he stayed with him overnight tending to his needs. When the Samaritan had to continue his journey the next morning, he left money with the innkeeper to care for the injured man until he recovered.

Here we are two thousand years later in 2020, a year filled with discord, upheaval, division, strife, religious argument, hateful rhetoric, a politicized pandemic, and a world full of hurting people. We refuse to even ask the question, “Who is my neighbor?” because we know we won’t like the story Jesus tells us.

There is a huge and complicated cast of characters in this story:

Republicans demonizing Democrats
Democrats denouncing Republicans
People of color brutally murdered by rogue policemen
Mask wearers and social distancers
Mask avoiders and party on as usual dudes
Immigrant families separated and locked in cages at our border
LBGTQ citizens mocked and marginalized
Moslem American citizens labeled as the fearful enemy
Peaceful protestors tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets
Violent rioters burning cars and buildings
A train wreck of lies and misleading memes on social media
People who look, think, and act differently than me
Me

This list is guaranteed to provoke an emotional response of one kind or another from everyone who reads it. The intense response that has been tugging at my heart is a single question. “Who is my neighbor?” I know what Jesus taught through his stories and modeled in his life. I’m just not sure I’m willing to do it.

Offering extravagant care, bandaging wounds, staying alongside the injured, contributing financially to someone else’s care, loving people different than me, caring for those outside my personal comfort zone, and valuing all my neighbors isn't easy; but it's necessary if I want to live like Jesus who said, “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35 NIV)

Asking the question, “Who is my neighbor?” is a risky proposition. I know Jesus will tell me that anyone in need is my neighbor, no exceptions. I’m not sure I want to hear that reply. I don’t know if I possess the courage to act on that answer. Learning to love all my neighbors well is not easy. But it is a good way to intentionally bloom where I am planted living a faith of hope and joy.

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Label Makers or Peacemakers?

9/14/2020

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Yikes! There is a rainbow on that mug. Hmm. I wonder what the owner of the mug thinks about LGBTQ rights, politics, the church, faith, hope, and love? Is she conservative or liberal? Is she voting for Donald Trump or Joe Biden?

No matter how those questions are answered, someone with a different opinion is likely to label the person who has an opposite point of view as stupid, moron, heathen, radical, socialist, idiot, unpatriotic, clueless. We are quite prone these days to hurl hateful adjectives toward other human beings created in the image of God. We seem to have lost our ability for civil discourse, thoughtful discussion, exchanging ideas, and giving one another space to have diverse opinions about politics, culture, and the church.

The destructive art of label making has reached new heights during the current election season. We constantly divide ourselves into groups of "Us" and "Them." This tendency is reinforced by partisan 24/7 television news broadcasts and social media platforms incessantly demanding that we click, like, copy, paste, repost, favorite, comment, and agree. And if we dare to refuse, we will be unfriended, deleted, boycotted, and tossed away.

We don't have to agree with one another to be kind to one another. Those who call themselves Christians are commanded by Jesus himself to love one another. It is sad that the name calling comes from inside the church as often as it comes from outside it. The label makers on any side of an issue take the name of the Lord in vain each time they use his name as an excuse to hate, judge, or exclude those they consider "The Others." People with healthy faith recognize that God has not called us to be label makers. He has called us to be peacemakers.

What about that rainbow mug? That is my mug sitting on a table in my sunroom. I suppose that makes me the most qualified person around to tell you what the rainbow cup represents. Have you already labeled me, decided who I am based on a photograph of a mug?

The mug is not very valuable, monetarily speaking. But it is a precious treasure to me. It has a long history of generational ownership in my family. My mother gave her mother a flower arrangement in it for Mother’s Day one year. When my grandmother gave away her things to move into assisted living, my mother inherited the mug. It hung on a hook in her kitchen for decades. When my mother moved into a senior living facility, her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were honored to look through the possessions she had collected over a lifetime and take whatever they wanted. I chose the mug because I like rainbows and I love my mother and my grandmother. It makes me happy to think of them as I sit in the sunroom sipping my morning spicy ginger tea.

Although the story of my mug is quite innocuous, anyone who knows me is aware that I have strong opinions on all manner of things. And I am deeply convinced of this. It is time for all who say they believe in Jesus, the Prince of Peace, to make the world a little less fractured by refusing to label the people our Father God has placed in it with any other name than His. Resolving to be peacemakers, instead of label makers, is a good way to bloom where we are planted, living a faith of hope and joy.

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The Peril of Political Piety

8/20/2020

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In 79 days, Americans will go to the polls to vote for the next president of the United States. Unless the pandemic runs amuck and it’s too dangerous, or the post office completely shuts down and there is no way to mail in an absentee ballot, or the Russians tamper with the voting machines so Trump will win, or the Chinese create an algorithm for Biden to win, or both candidates die before November 3 because they are so old, or alien DNA infiltrates our brains rendering us incapable of mindful choices.

This election cycle is filled with conspiracy theories, hyperbole, and fearful predictions of apocalyptic doom. Scrolling through my Facebook and Twitter feeds this morning, I saw lots of posts that screamed BREAKING NEWS!!!!!!! and demanded READ THIS NOW TO SAVE AMERICA!!!!!!!

Competing messages duked it out all over social media. (Donald Trump, Joe Biden) has just been caught (in current scandalous situation). This shocking revelation totally ends the political hopes of (Donald Trump, Joe Biden). Our country is in huge trouble because now (Donald Trump, Joe Biden) will be elected instead of (Donald Trump, Joe Biden) If you are a Christian you better vote for (Donald Trump, Joe Biden) because if you vote for (Donald Trump, Joe Biden) instead of (Donald Trump, Joe Biden), Satan wins!!!!

Here's the thing. If Christians believe that the outcome of an election has more power than God our Father and Creator, Jesus our Redeemer and Hope, the Holy Spirit our Guide and Strength, then Satan has already won.

I understand that folks have strong feelings about both of the candidates and their running mates. But we have lost our way if we place politics above our faith in God. When we wake up on November 4, 2020, one of the candidates will be our president. Some people will be thrilled with the result and others will be devastated. Whatever happens, the Kingdom of God cannot by shaken by the kingdoms of this world.

A hundred years from now when historians analyze this period in our history, what will they report about the people who claimed to be Christians during our time? Will they say followers of Christ replaced Jesus with a politician? Will they remember our churches as places of worship focused on the love of Christ or as institutions of civil religion focused on gaining political power? Will they describe our generation as one that steadfastly followed Jesus or one that framed our salvation in terms of who won an election?

Neither Donald Trump nor Joe Biden is our Lord and Savior. Support the candidate of your choice. Vote for whoever you want to be the next president of our country. But, please stop equating politics with faith in God. Please stop saying your side is the Christian side, your way is the Christian way. Please stop saying that anyone who votes differently than you is not a Christian.

Jesus said, “I am the Way. I am the Truth. I am the Life.” Politics is not the path to redemption. When we wake up the morning after the election, whoever is president will be a man in need of our prayers. He will not be the savior of the world. Jesus, only Jesus, is worthy of that title.

"What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? Christ Jesus is at the right hand of God and is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution of famine or danger? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:31-39 NIV)

Remembering that absolutely nothing, not even a fractious political season, can separate us from the love of Christ is one way to bloom where we are planted, living a faith of hope and joy.

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Am I a Racist or a Reconciler?

6/22/2020

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Am I a racist or a reconciler? That is a loaded question. And like most uncomfortable questions, it can only be answered by you. It would be an audacious exercise in impertinence for me to attempt to craft a reasonable response from inside your soul. I don’t belong there. That’s between you and God. We are unique people with unique perspectives and unique stories to tell. All I can do is share my own story with you. In light of the current widespread discussion on the need for racial reconciliation, I’ve been pondering my own journey this week.

I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. When I was in elementary school, I saw signs for colored and white water fountains every time I went into a store. I never questioned the status quo. That’s just the way things were in the 1950s. As a teenager with a summer job, I was kicked out of a diner when I popped in for lunch with a black coworker. It was aggravating, but I didn’t say anything to the angry waitress who yelled at us. I shrugged and went down the street to buy hamburgers for us to eat outside. That’s just the way things were in the 60s. I rarely thought about the pervasive racism of my youth. I was shielded from the harsh reality by my local community and by my whiteness. Birmingham was a hotbed of protests and marches and violent reaction by the authorities. I was oblivious. All that happened far away from the trajectory of my normal everyday life. I heard an occasional news snippet when I passed by the television on my way out the door to hang out with my friends. It never occurred to me that those terrible events were worthy of my attention. I was in college when I finally read about the bombings, the water hoses, the marches, and the murders of four little black girls who died because they decided to go to church on a Sunday morning.

That was fifty years ago. I don’t live in Birmingham anymore. And I’m no longer oblivious. Decades have come and gone. We’ve crossed the threshold into a new millennium. Surely, things should have changed by now. Unfortunately, little has changed at all. Racism continues to thrive. The video of a white man pressing his knee into the neck of a black man until he died was all over the news a few weeks ago. It was the latest atrocity in the unending parade of violent hatred. The murder of George Floyd was the catalyst for nationwide protests against continued systemic racism. Voices of hatred, derision, and suspicion clutter my social media feed. Is that just the way things are in 2020?

Maybe not. Other voices are speaking out for justice. Large numbers of folks are coming together to demand an end to the violence perpetrated against people of color. I'm no longer an oblivious child. I'm an adult and I have a choice. I can remain silent. That’s certainly the safest option. But if I say nothing, that makes me complicit in the continued marginalization. I can declare I am not a racist a million times. But if I do nothing else, if I say nothing else, those words mean absolutely nothing. So, I've decided to say this.

Black lives matter. Every single person on the face of the earth is created in the image of God. We are all a part of the beautiful mosaic that reflects God to the world. The prevalence of racial hatred fills me with sadness. When the words of derision come from those who claim to follow Christ, it breaks my heart. The majority of white Christians in white churches said nothing while all the hate was spewed fifty years ago. In 2020, some churches still choose to ignore the present reality and others actively promote racial division.

I’m encouraged because some churches are stepping up and speaking out. White and black pastors are meeting together, listening to each other, looking for a way forward. White pastors of predominately white congregations are inviting black pastors to fill their pulpits. Adam Hamilton, senior pastor at Church of the Resurrection in Kansas City, the largest Methodist Church in the country, recently invited black pastor, Rev. Dr. Emanuel Cleaver III, to preach at Church of the Rez. I encourage you to listen to his powerful and enlightening sermon, “Time to Step Up.”

I’ve seen racism in action for over fifty years. It’s been going on far longer than that. The problem seems unending and overwhelming. Am I a racist? I hope not. I'd rather be a reconciler. I’m a believer in Jesus Christ. Through the lens of my faith I see that God, the Father, relishes diversity. He made a world teeming with variety and beauty expressed in countless ways in nature and in people. Jesus, the Son, gave me an example to follow during his time on earth. He rescued the marginalized, healed the sick, fed the hungry, and ministered to everyone regardless of their race, sex, or perceived place in the society of his day. The Holy Spirit compels me to love everyone and to be a peacemaker who values mercy, justice, and grace.

I’ve been thinking about tangible ways I can promote racial reconciliation in my little corner of the world. I only have one small voice. I intend to use it. I will speak up when someone makes a derogatory racist remark and politely ask that person to refrain from using language that demeans a person created in the image of God. I will listen to my black brothers and sisters in Christ to learn from them what it is like to be a person of color in America. I will ask for their suggestions about ways to stop racism. I will read books by black authors to help me understand their reality. I will support people of color who experience specific incidents of racially motivated hatred. I will use my writing platform to promote justice and racial reconciliation. I will share social media posts like this video from my beloved University of Alabama football team: All Lives Can’t Matter Until Black Lives Matter. I will step up and speak out. I will do whatever I can do to make a difference. Because I don’t want to be a racist who is part of the problem. I want to be a reconciler who is part of the solution.

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Unanticipated Pandemic Blessings

5/14/2020

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When we began social distancing in March in an effort to slow the spread of the novel Covid-19 coronavirus, it never occurred to me that there were unanticipated blessings waiting to be found in quarantine life. Coronavirus is a terrible illness that is negatively impacting countries around the world. Life as we know it has been turned topsy-turvy. The global economy is on a downward trajectory. Illness and death are widespread. In our country alone, as of yesterday, 1,360,705 people have tested positive for Covid-19 and 76,617 have died. During the past two weeks, many states have started to open up businesses that have been closed. Some churches are planning to start in person meetings again. Many epidemiologists and ordinary citizens are worried that we are reopening things too quickly and that this will result in a huge spike of new infections and deaths. I am one of the worried people. My husband and I are in a vulnerable age group. My 91-year-old mother, friends, and family members with compromised immune systems and chronic illnesses will almost certainly have serious complications if they contract Covid-19. My state is one of the places that has chosen to reopen most businesses with insufficient guidance as to how to do this safely and no plan for enforcing the few guidelines available. The idea that there might be space for reflection and blessing while all of this is going on seems farfetched and impossible.

There is something to do besides worry. I have discovered much to be thankful for during these unprecedented times. I have experienced blessings that I had certainly not anticipated. These are five of them.

The absolute slowing down of everything. We are retired so we had already slowed down to some degree. But we were still busy: traveling to visit family, planning trips in our motorhome, camping, shopping, working on household projects we had put off for years, running back and forth to church and community events, racing to finish writing projects, cramming in routine medical appointments, scheduling, planning, doing. We somehow were just as busy as we had been during our working years. All that came to a screeching halt when we went into social distancing and self-quarantine mode. We were forced by circumstances to slow down. In exchange, we received the gift of calmness, stillness, peace, and time for quiet reflection.
Spending quality time with my husband. Weather permitting, most days we go outside to sit on our deck in the afternoon. We talk, share snippets from books we are reading, listen to the birds chirping in the trees, feel the gentle breeze, check the progress of the plants and flowers shooting up in all the flowerpots, soak up the sunshine, watch the hummingbirds flit around the feeders, and enjoy the beauty of nature all around us. We rock in our deck chairs and appreciate the gift of just being, rather than doing.
Extended quality time with my mother. My mother has an apartment in an independent living facility in another city. When the coronavirus hit, she happened to be staying with us while she recuperated from a minor back injury. By the time she had recovered, her facility was beginning lockdown procedures. Instead of a thriving community of seniors enjoying lots of daily activities and social interaction, residents are confined to their apartments, all activities have been suspended, and no visitors are allowed. We decided it was better for her to continue to stay with us right now. I have been able to spend more consistent extended time with her during these past weeks than at any other time since I got married and moved away from home. We’ve talked, laughed, played games, and are thoroughly enjoying this time together.
Appreciation of intentional time with our children and grandchildren. We live in the same town as our daughter and her family so we saw each other frequently at church, running around town, going to our grandson’s basketball games together, dropping in and out of each other’s homes. Now we plan social distancing visits sitting six feet apart on her porch or our deck. Before we didn’t think about what a gift it is to live in such close proximity. Now that we have to plan our visits, they are more precious and meaningful. Our son and his family live about six hours from us. We visited each other every few months before Covid-19. We were planning a spring camping trip that included spending a week or two with them when the lockdown started. Now we visit by setting up zoom meetings. I'll never again take for granted the gift of spending unfettered time with those I love. I’m so thankful for technology that allows us to stay connected with family from a distance.
Online church services. Speaking of technology, livestreaming is a great blessing. I miss meeting in person with my sweet local church family. On the other hand, I’m getting to experience worship services all over the place each Sunday now. We drop in on our local church service, attend services at the largest Methodist church in America from our den, watch portions of services from churches where friends minister, and even zoom into churches meeting in South America where we know several pastors from our years of serving as resident missionaries in Colombia and volunteer missionaries in Ecuador. This past Sunday, I saw pastors and musicians sharing the Good News in English, Spanish, and Quichua.

Although our state is rapidly reopening, the science and the epidemiologists indicate that in our desperation to return to normal we are rushing forward too soon without a detailed concrete plan. While we wait for states and cities to come up with sensible guidelines for staying safe while reopening, we’ll shelter in place a while longer. And while we are waiting, we will continue to look for unexpected blessings. It's a wonderful way to bloom where we are planted, living a faith of hope and joy; even in these uncertain and unprecedented days.

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Celebrating a Quarantined Easter

4/9/2020

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When I was a child, my Mother hid brightly colored foil wrapped miniature chocolate eggs tucked in nooks and crannies all over the living room for my brother and me to find on Easter morning. We had so much fun hunting the eggs and adding the treasures we found to our baskets. Afterwards, we ate breakfast (and chocolate), dressed up in our new clothes, went to church, and then to my grandmother’s house to enjoy a family feast with the aunts, uncles, and cousins. What memories do you have of childhood Easter mornings? What fun things do you do with your children and grandchildren?

I’m no longer a child. But I still love Easter. One of my favorite things about celebrating this special day is our church tradition of decorating the cross with flowers. All the black coverings placed over the altar on Maundy Thursday are removed, candles are lit, the cross is carried to the front of the church, and each member of our congregation goes to the cross to add a flower. It’s such a beautiful reminder that the darkness and death of the crucifixion have been replaced by the light and life of the resurrection.

Whatever traditions you usually enjoy with your extended family and your church family at Easter time, one thing is certain: Easter will look different this year. Churches are closed for in-person services. Extended family gatherings are currently on hold. We are sheltering in place to protect our families and our communities from the spread of the Covid-19 coronavirus that continues to infect and kill people all over the world.

I’ve been thinking during this Holy Week about what Easter must have looked like to the early disciples. Over the centuries, we have added so many layers of celebration and tradition that we scarcely can fathom what the followers of Jesus experienced on that first Easter.

They were sheltering in place in their homes grieving for what they thought they had lost. They were fearful of impending doom. Their leader had died. Would they be next? Life as they knew it was over. Jesus was dead and buried in a tomb. They wept and whispered and worried and wondered what the future held for them.

And then Sunday came.

Early that morning, Mary Magdalene and some of the other women went to the tomb with spices to anoint the body of Jesus. They discussed how they would move the heavy rock that had been used to seal the tomb. When they arrived, the stone had been rolled away. They thought thieves had broken in and stolen the body of their beloved friend.

The women ran back to the house where the disciples were hunkered down in fear and mourning to share this astonishing news. The news that changed everything. For them. And for us.

For the first time in over two thousand years, we have the opportunity to feel and understand down to our core what that first Easter must have been like. We are huddled in our homes, fearful of impending doom. Some of us have lost our jobs and incomes. Some of us have lost loved ones to this voracious disease. Some of us are sick ourselves. We’re contemplating what might happen next.

We can weep and whisper and worry and wonder what the future holds for us. Or we can let it all go. We can let go of all the cousins coming over to dye eggs for the neighborhood egg hunt, and instead plan special treats and activities for our children in our individual homes. We can let go of in-person church gatherings. Instead, we can watch church Easter celebrations online and rejoice that thousands of others are watching services from thousands of churches online with us. We can let go of huge extended family dinners and instead create delicious intimate meals for our precious immediate families.

And after we let go, we can remember. Remember what the first resurrection Sunday felt like for the first disciples. Remember what Easter means without all the cultural trappings we have heaped upon it. Remember that while we are quarantined in these days of uncertainty, waiting for the darkness to lift, that we do not wait alone. Light and Hope wait with us. Because Jesus waits with us. And that's something worth celebrating every single day of the year while we bloom where we are planted as we grow a faith of hope and joy.

He is risen.

He is risen indeed.

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Loving Our Neighbors During a Pandemic

3/16/2020

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I’m an Enneagram 8: The Challenger. So, naturally, my go to response in most situations is to encourage folks to action, often quite emphatically. It’s so innately my normal default position, that I don’t even realize I’m doing it most of the time.

Under normal circumstances, if I were writing a devotional on the importance of loving our neighbors, I would challenge you to get out and get busy with lots of suggestions for hands on ministry and engagement with those in need.

But these are not normal circumstances. We are living in the middle of a pandemic of the Covid-19 coronavirus. To stop the spread, it is essential to practice social distancing, cancel events, and stay at home. So, how do we love our neighbors well during this once in a lifetime event? I have ten suggestions.

Stay informed. Check out current recommendations on the websites for the Centers for Disease Control at CDC and the World Health Organization at WHO. Check out your state and city websites and listen to local news channels for the current Covid-19 status in your specific area. If you post updates on social media, share the facts instead of misleading memes.
Check on your elderly family members and neighbors. They may not have access to online information. They may need groceries delivered. They may run out of routine medications. They may get sick with the virus or some other illness and need help getting medical care.
Encourage your church to cancel all services and in person meetings. If you have skills for livestreaming, videography, running audio equipment, music, etc., volunteer your expertise to help your congregation provide alternatives to group meetings. This is a unique situation that requires a unique creative response. We can go back to meeting as congregations after this crisis is over. At my local church, two families have volunteered to help our pastor with a video message. They will play the piano, run the audio, share music, and help get our pastor’s message to our church members.
Continue ministries to those in need if it can be done in a way that limits contact and reduces the chances of contagion. My church has a food pantry which provides food for 200-300 people. Usually, those who are going to receive the food, meet in our fellowship hall, members of the congregation interact with them, others pack food sacks based on each person’s family size when they arrive and check in, and the men of the church help carry the food out to cars. The fellowship hall is a beehive of activity with hundreds of people crammed into one space. That’s not acceptable during a pandemic. This month, bags will be prepacked by a handful of people a day before the food pantry opens. We won’t be able to specifically target family size, but each family will get something. The folks who come to receive the food will be asked to wait in their cars and then come to the door of the fellowship hall one at a time to receive their food.
Check on children in your local school system who depend on school breakfasts and lunches. My county has developed a Covid-19 food plan. Meals will be prepared by each school’s CNP staff. They will be delivered between 10:00 a.m. and 12:00 p.m. every Monday while school remains closed. Students who ride the buses will have 5 breakfasts and 5 lunches delivered to them by our bus drivers running their regular routes. Car riders will come to the school to pick up the 5 meals during this same time frame. Meals will be delivered to vehicles waiting in the car pick up line.
Call friends and family members. Face time on your phone. Send texts. View this as an opportunity to find creative ways to deepen relationships by catching up with one another.
Send letters to nursing home residents who are quarantined. Mail encouraging cards to healthcare providers who are on the front lines of responding to this unprecedented crisis. Wash your hands and disinfect pens before writing so that you won’t unwittingly pass along germs.
Stay at home. We are a country of rugged individualists not accustomed to considering the greater good of the whole community. It will be difficult to change our habits, but we can do it. You may not be at high risk to catch the virus, but there are a lot of vulnerable people around you who are. High risk people include anyone over the age of 60, folks with an underlying condition like asthma, high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease, and anyone who has a suppressed immune system due to cancer, medications, or autoimmune illnesses. The choices you make will affect everyone around you.
If you have to leave your home to go to work, buy groceries, or check on family members, practice scrupulous hygiene. Wash your hands. Change clothes when you get home and wash what you wore outside. Clean doorknobs, car door handles, your phone, and anything else you touch. Keep at least 6 feet between you and folks you see. Loving your neighbor while you are out and about means waving and smiling from a distance.
Do your part to flatten the curve. The greatest danger we face is our healthcare system being overwhelmed by thousands of people seeking care at the same time when the disease spike occurs. It’s estimated that only 20% of the people who catch coronavirus will require hospitalization. If as few as 1% of our population catches Covid-19, that will be over 3 million people. If only 20% of that 3 million require hospitalization, that will be over 600,000 people. We don’t have 600,000 extra hospital beds and ventilators nor enough medical personnel to take care of that many seriously sick folks at one time. Stay at home. Flatten the curve. Love your neighbor as yourself by thinking of their needs, as well as your own.

We don’t know how long we will need to self-quarantine. We don’t know when the disease will peak. Right now, we don’t even have enough testing capability to know how many of us are already infected and passing the disease on to others every single day. What we do know as believers is that God is with us and we have no need to fear. Finding creative ways to love our neighbors during this epidemic is one way to bloom where we are planted as we grow a faith of hope and joy.

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I love to read and write devotionals that focus on joy and practical faith. I'm a fan of camping, traveling, healthy living, and practical life hacks about everything.

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