Masks and sanitizer, greetings through windows six feet apart. We have all become untouchable. Moms that are still with us, aren’t. Moms that are not with us are worlds away untouched by time in our memory. And then there are those moms who cannot escape, cannot get away because love chases them into the bathroom and down the halls into the make-shift-office-room zoom calls. Pandemic Mother’s Day is complicated for moms who wanted to be and could not no matter how hard they tried and tried and cried whose bodies couldnot wouldnot become what we wanted them to be. And the dads who are better moms than our moms could ever be, mothering isn’t just for moms. Some moms just can’t. For the lucky ones whose love dripped down the sides of our faces like ice cream, their joy overflows like spilt milk on the countertop next to the oreo cookies. We can still feel their touch and the kisses in clockwise directions on our faces filled with laughter or tears, over the years, those kisses fade into the photos on the wall. They are now missing from our minds. Gone on this day. But for the grannies and mimis and granddaddies and pattis and tathas and pappas and mammas that make life just a little sweeter with drive-by birthdays and package deliveries, the complications of Mother’s Day are no match for unbridled love. Boundless expressions of joy cannot be hid by the hand sewn masks and poster board signs hurriedly colored while tears fell making rain marks on homemade cards. You can see a smile with your heart, if you try. And so we do. We try. We forgive. We remember. We regret. Our mothers. And those who wish our mothers were something more than they could be, we sigh and breathe in one more day. Mother’s Day has always been complicated, but this year more of us understand why.
My mother died 1 year ago this month, on our daughter’s 16th birthday. As a pastor I have often counseled people through the stages of grief and know that grief can take many twists and turns along the pathways of our life. Grief may walk beside us when we loose a parent, a spouse, or a child—these are journeys people notice. Continue reading “Remembering Well, Grieving Well”
A Friend of the Family, Andrew the Cymbal Kid
One week ago my son’s best friend Andrew Pawelczyk (Pa-Vel-check) was thrust onto an international stage–he is the YouTube sensation “Cymbal Kid”. A month ago during the last middle school band performance, Andrew, an accomplished drummer who usually plays the “quad” 4 drums, was asked to play the cymbals. I was sitting dead center with my husband and daughter while our son sat in the trumpet section at first chair. Continue reading “Learning to think on your feet: Cymbal Kid, Autism, and the Family that Makes Us”
Giants of Our Time
We are a people gathered together today, in this place, in this time, to reflect, to imagine, and to step forth into a new future where we are called to a greater purpose by a God under whose Divine eyes watch over us on this day.
This same Higher Power that has watched over, guided, inspired and led the Spiritual Giants of our faith Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, Rama, Buddha, and the great Gurus, on whose shoulders we stand today—this same Higher Power watches over us. That same Spirit that hovered over the waters at the dawn of creation lives and dwells in you, our graduates. Continue reading “In the Presence of Giants– Neuqua Valley High School Baccalaureate Speech”
The Garden is Ablaze with Color
These days my garden is blooming with color-reds, pinks, yellows, and especially purples. These warm days of June bring such bountiful beauty I can sit in my rose garden for hours contemplating the mystery of God’s creation around me. The tomatoes have not yet formed. The eggplants and peppers are hopeful flowers blossoming on young plants in delightfully cool mornings awaiting the buzz of bees to bear their fruit in fall. The basil is reaching upwards toward the sun, not yet ready for my Friday pizzas. It is here with the sun on my face, sitting at my garden table, with the breeze dancing among leaves of the cottonwood trees that I feel at peace, a sense of ONENESS with God and the world. This is sacred Sabbath time. Continue reading “My Blooming Garden (Part 2): The Fragrance of God”
The Garden Teaches us Life Lessons
The garden teaches us many things about life. It teaches us about patience. It takes time for a blackberry bush to grow, to flower and to produce fruit. My blackberry bush is three years old and I think this year I may harvest 20-30 blackberries. Last year we picked 4. Another lesson the garden teaches us is discernment. We must learn to distinguish between plants that will produce food, and plants that will not–of course I am referring to weeds! If we allow the weeds to grow, they will choke out the young tomato and pepper plants. These two lessons are fairly obvious. The third lesson the garden teaches us is a much harder lesson. Continue reading “My Blooming Garden (Part 1)–Thinning Seedlings & Making Space”
In honor of Earth Day and her 12th birthday, this week’s blog is written by our daughter Nandini. Last April at 11 years old she began fundraising to build clean water wells for kids in remote villages. This is her second year and today she shares her story of the Well India Project.
Join me in giving the gift of clean water to people who need it most!
Hi! My name is Nandini and I am celebrating my 12th birthday this month and you can help me give the gift of water.
Last spring, I had an epiphany. Everyone wants to do something to help people, and I had just figured out what I wanted to do. It felt like God was sending me a message, and it came in a funny way. I got my message in a catalog. Continue reading “The Gift of Water: Every Drop Counts! 12 yr old raising $10,000”
Be strong, and let your heart take courage.
These are powerful words. How do I let my heart take courage? So often there are times when the news is so overwhelming that we are filled with fear and trembling especially when we hear the words, “You have a tumor.” How can we take courage in those times?
Learning to Cultivate Hope
It has taken me some time to find my voice again. Recently I became discouraged after I received some disappointing news and I stopped writing in my blog. I am reminded of a time 6 years ago when we heard those words, “You have a tumor.” As pastors we are to be cultivators of hope and promise–faith and joy. But what happens when life seems to be filled with more downs than ups? How can we learn to cultivate hope in the midst of adversity? Continue reading “When Cancer Strikes the Family: Turning Adversity into an Adventure”
The best toy in the toy store–a broom.
Last week I was standing in line at a toy store and I saw a little boy about three years old very excited about the present his dad was buying for him. You might imagine it was a car or truck, maybe a building set, or even a sword or light saber. Any of these would have been expected for a little boy to be excited about, but to my surprise this boy was delighted to have a kid sized broom and dustpan. Like many kids, he wanted to hold his new toy while standing in line. He took the broom and began sweeping the floor and singing…”Clean up, clean up, every body do you share. Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere.” I was amazed by the sheer enthusiasm this child had for doing his share and getting to work cleaning up messes on the floor. Generally speaking kids and adults alike do not like cleaning up messes.
Give your kid the best chance for success and plan for failure.
One of the best pieces of advice I got as a mom of toddlers was to give them the best chance of success and plan for failure. What do I mean? When we bought our new home the dining room was carpeted. The highchair sat on carpet and three times a day our son would throw food on the floor and we would have to get down on our knees and dig the food and crumbs out of the fibers. The carpet was never really clean and so we were upset every time our kid did what kids do, make messes. We decided to pull up the carpet and put in a hardwood floor.
When the floor was installed, I was as excited as that little boy in the toy store was to sweep up the messes my kids made. What once was a headache and chore became easier to manage and my attitude was much happier. The broom was always close by. We planned for failure when they were learning how to drink as well. We gave our kids tiny steel cups to drink from and put about a tablespoon of liquid in the bottom. If they spilled it, it was no big deal to wipe up. If they drank it quickly, we would give them a refill. When my son fought to hold the spoon I was feeding him with, I gave him his own spoon too. Two spoons allowed for us to be successful. Two spoons changed my relationship with my son. No more fights…for now. Continue reading “When the Principal Calls—Helping a Good Kid get Back on Track”
These past two weeks I have been battling bronchitis.
One morning when I was very sick I woke up with no voice. I had but a whisper to talk, and that too was strained. The morning routine with our 13 year old and 11 year old is an intense schedule. They each have to move through showers, breakfast, backpacks, packed lunches, and chores all in the space of 1 hour. The last 10 minutes are especially rushed with me yelling, “don’t forget your lunch!” and “hurry up you’ll miss the bus!” or “practice piano before breakfast.” Suddenly with no voice and no energy the “mom voice” did not exist and my children were on their own. Fortunately they made it to school on time with all their stuff in tow.
The urgency of needing my voice back was compounded by the fact I had to teach a class on the book of Nehemiah that evening. I was trying to imagine teaching the class without talking much. It wasn’t going to work. I realized that without my voice, I had no profession. No voice meant no ministry.
For a brief moment I realized how dependent I was on my voice. Without a voice pastors cannot provide counseling, we cannot teach, we certainly cannot preach. Our work is based on the art of communication and building relationships.
Fortunately, my friend Swati came by and took me to the clinic where they gave me a breathing treatment and diagnosed me with bronchitis. Within 5 minutes my voice returned. I had thought that my voice was gone, but what was actually gone was my breath.
In Hebrew the word for “breath” ruah is the same word for “Spirit” (to learn more click here). It is the Spirit of God who dwells within us that is found within our own breath. We breathe in the breath of life and the Spirit of our Creator with each breath. When our breath leaves us at the time of death, then we say that our Spirit is gone. While I still could breathe, I had not the strength to speak. My voice was weak because the breath flowing through me was not strong enough to speak. My air pathways were constricted—too tight for the ruah to flow. Thus, my spiritual power as I understood it was certainly weakened.