 Beloved:
On our very last day of another year of Global Women we traveled to the Edinburgh Outlet Mall and I learned two things; one extremely annoying and one extremely satisfying. I learned that my Fitbit records no steps taken when pushing a wheelchair or carrying a shopping bag. I presume that means it counts no steps taken when carrying my purse, my briefcase, grocery bags, laundry basket, garden tools or anything else in my left hand. And pushing a wheelchair? Shouldn’t I get double steps for that? I can’t begin to count the steps I have been denied credit! But Global Women - what a joy! My son, Ben, went along for the Chinese speaking practice and was quickly shuffled into the Chinese only SUV. The two grandmas in the group fawned over him all day. Yzh and her mama are having him over to cook tomorrow. Our day ended with tears as we said good-bye to a friend headed home to Turkey. We’ll likely never see each other again this side of heaven. Standing in the church parking lot she hugged us all many times. Pointing to the building she said in her own beautiful English, “I think maybe you don’t know what you are doing here. It’s is just so . . . . . . wonderful. Wonderful.” Then we hugged and cried a little more. But I do know. I know that every Tuesday afternoon we rebel against the way of the world by inviting strangers from around the world to sit together and simply listen. To hear and see through the eyes and accents of other women what life is like in places we might otherwise only know through news reports. Or not at all. Until two years ago I’d never met a soul from Sri Lanka and now I know four. Samitha came to our program and brought her mama and her little girl. Once I went to her house and met her husband. We drank tea and ate cake. The crafts and the games and the cooking keep our hands busy and the English flowing but what counts are the hearts and souls being knit together by threads that stretch the globe and the years. And while the soul of ministry can’t be meaningfully be conveyed with numbers, the math is pretty remarkable. All these figures are conservative and approximate.
Friends, this is not a shabby record for any church and an outstanding one for a church our size. While it’s not much money ~ what an amazing amount of time, energy and creativity. A gift for which I have never had to beg, borrow or steal because it flows so freely from the handful of members called to this ministry over the years. And I really don’t care about the numbers. I care that someone came within our reach and left in tears of joy and gratitude for having been truly welcomed by people who call ourselves Christians. Someone from a place that rarely receives positive press goes home deeply impressed by the kindness and love with which she was treated here. So even if my walking steps didn’t count for much the ministry steps did. Yesterday in the church parking lot was one of those few times in ministry I was struck with the sense, “Yes, this is exactly right. This is what truly counts.” Or as Gonul said it, “Wonderful. Wonderful.” How privileged I am to be granted the invitation to participate in this corner of kingdom work with the likes of Heidi, Julia, Joyce and Lisa and the other 375 friends we have made over the years. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette
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Beloved:
My husband is traveling which means that instead of his arms I wake up every morning in pile of furry dog love. Definitely second best but not at all terrible. I’ve only to whisper the word outside for the pile to explode. Outside in pajamas, coffee in one hand and tennis ball launcher in the other, I find spring has exploded all the more. Perfect light. Perfect air. Perfect breeze. First flowers have faded and round two is in full color. The wisteria I planted three years ago has climbed twenty feet and is loaded with buds that look like sugared candy. I want to pull up a chair and not miss their explosion. Nature is what happens whether we're watching or not. In springtime most of all. I pray you make it outside today. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette Beloved:
First the church news. Secondly, as church news has to do with prayer. Ann Damon took a spill last Wednesday and broke her hip. She sailed through surgery on Thursday and moved to the Meadowood Pavilion on Sunday where she will stay for a few weeks of rehabilitation. Her spirits are good. She loves receiving flowers and cards. I’ll let you know later in this week when she’s ready for visitors. It’s my habit to pray with folks when I visit them at the hospital. I like doing it and most folks expect it. But praying over Ann is a little nerve wracking for me. Because, if Ann Damon has ever prayed over you, you know she believes in healing. Many years ago I broke my arm in a car wreck. Comminution was the technical term for the fracture Comminution is the reduction of solid materials from one average particle size to a smaller average particle size, by crushing, grinding, cutting, vibrating, or other processes. The doctor decided to try a closed reduction first instead of surgery, saying he was doubtful it would work but worth the try. Ann prayed over me at the hospital first. Ten days of bedrest with hand above your elbow, elbow above your heart were my discharge instructions. I took my twenty pound, casted arm home and laid in bed for two days during which my hand swelled so badly I had to go back to the hospital to have the cast sawed open to relieve the pressure. The doctor plastered another cast on top of the original and told me ever so kindly that while the reduction seemed to be holding I should be prepared for how crooked my arm would be. Only Carl knew he’d said that. And, apparently, the Lord who saw fit to tell Ann. Another day lying abed with my hand above my elbow, elbow above my heart passed. Mid morning Ann called, “I need to come over and pray over your arm.” She came, laid both her hands on my cast and repeatedly told (not asked, told) the Lord to straightened my arm out, that I had babies to tend, work to do and both my arms needed to be straight and strong. She said amen, patted my head and went on with her day. Eight weeks passed. Time to take off the last cast. Dr. Doster again warned me not to be disappointed. He was the surprised one, bringing other doctors in to show off his closed reduction. Carl and I just smiled. I believe in healing, but one might not know it from the shy prayers I pray when one of my lambs has bones to knit. I don't even feel shy until Ann falls down. Praying over her feels like offering Michael Jordan a few basketball tips, explaining chess to Bobby Fischer, showing Fred Astaire how to dance . . . . . you get the idea. None of which Ann would concede. Praying isn’t a sport. Praying for each other isn’t a contest. But still ~ we are the lucky ones. Don’t forget to send Ann a card. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette |
I write a Tuesday morning devotional to members and friends of UBC. It is also posted here.
Enjoy! Pastor Annette Copyright
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