Pastor Annette's Blog
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"OF ALL THE THINGS GOD HAS SHOWN ME, I CAN SPEAK BUT A LITTLE WORD NOT MORE THAN A HONEYBEE CAN CARRY AWAY ON ITS FOOT FROM AN OVERFLOWING JAR."
~ MECHTHILD OF MAGDEBURG, 13TH CENTURY MYSTIC |
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Beloved:
Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better . . . Luke 10:41-42 Be still, and know that I am God . . . Psalm 46:10 It’s almost 5 am. I’m the only one awake in this very quiet house. Cool air and cricket songs slip through the open windows as touch, sound and scent. What is Spirit and how do we know it save through these extraordinary bodies of ours? What makes a word or experience spiritual? A scientist turned seminary professor said he never worshipped more rapturously than when witnessing cellular miracles through a microscope. Music and poetry deliver as do certain texts. The everyday beauty of sunsets and new babies and healing and human courage press through the sieve of our senses to delight, encourage, amaze, silence, strengthen and change us. But only if we notice of course, only when we sit quietly at the open windows of our spirit can these things reach us. Already, I hear neighbors leaving for work, beginning daily their commutes to Indianapolis. The cat is at the window, calling for his breakfast with his crazy, hiccupy meow. The sun is an hour away and already I feel the pull to get busy getting things done. Just a few more minutes . . . . after I feed the cat of course. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette
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Beloved:
Trying to be helpful to Ann Damon, I was tidying up a church flowerbed and cut off armloads of what I thought were spent daffodil greens. In fact they are brand new day lily greens. Yikes! When I confessed to Ann, she said, “Well, nothing to worry about. They’ll come back. Remember the life is in the roots.” And my heart said, “Yes.” The life is always in the roots and the roots of our life together are our prayers for one another. From our prayers grows ministry and fellowship, activity and affection. They bloom and fade according by the persistence of our prayer. As our new deacon set gathered last night - we restated the twin task of UBC deacon; to foster the spiritual health of our life together, primarily through prayer, and do the leg work of UBC’s commitment to serve the poor in our local community. Both demand selflessness, courage and a sense of humor. It begins, ends and is shot through the middle with prayer. Please do not fail to prayer for them and for me even as we pray for you. Finally, big cheers and many thanks to outgoing deacons Gwenette Gaddis and Becky Underwood. They served with dedication and much patience as their terms extended by several months. Thank them when you see them. Better yet - go out of your way to send them a note of gratitude. peace & prayers, pastor annette Beloved: I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses . . . . I wish my camera could show how heavy with dew the roses are this morning. My garden these days is a work site of lumber and mud which the dogs treat as their playground, not exactly the image C. Austin Miles had in mind when he wrote the 1912 hymn. No one told the roses. The canes are heavy with dewy blooms, a fuschia explosion rising from temporary chaos. The go about the business of beauty indifferent to the mud, the men and the noise. That the church might mimic the way of the roses, mindful that we have been liberated from the sorrow and stress of this world, keeping to the business of joy. To persist in quiet peace ~ who knows what else might bloom and fruit. ~peace and prayers, pastor annette Beloved: I intended to take a picture of my climbing roses and write about how they withstood the rain and hail to bloom gloriously. They I looked down and saw this fellow draped over the bottom rail of my rose trellis. One end was underground and the other under the porch but I got close enough to get this shot of his gorgeous skin. Turns out, he was in the same place this morning. I gave him a little poke with a stick and discovered, sadly, he is dead. He’s a corn snake, also called a red rat snake, though not all corn snakes are red. They come in a rainbow of hues. Gardeners like them because they control pests like moles and mice. It seemed appropriate to give him a proper internment further from the house since the scent invites the dogs to regard it as a chew toy. My plan was to pick it up with the rake and fling it into the woods but it was stuck. Carl came to help and we discovered he had been inside a tube of drainage tile and attempted to escape through one of the tiny holes at the surface of the ground, no doubt in the heavy rain on Tuesday evening. He made his body skinny enough to pull the first twelve inches through but that squeezed too much of bulk into his lower body. He couldn’t go either way and died. Sparing you the details of how, Carl extracted him. We laid him out on the driveway and he measured about 36 inches long, the lower two-thirds significantly fatter than the rest. Hardly a day spent in my garden doesn’t deliver a basketful of spiritual lessons. Those roses grow wild because I don’t know how to prune them, reminding me that God doesn’t necessarily need my help or input. The corn snake reminds me that just because a place looks cool and comfortable does not make it the right place for me to be. Entering may turn out to be much easier than exiting. I pray the day is kind to you and yours. 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
Everything on this site is licensed under a Creative Commons license, which gives you permission to copy freely, provided that you attribute the work to me, that you use the work for non-commercial purposes, and that you do not produce derivative works. Archives
December 2024
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