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 |
Beloved:
A week and a half until I’m on vacation. For three whole weeks! I’m going to pump my brain and body full of sleep, sewing, reading and staring at the water. No email. No meetings. No sermons to compose. No bigger decisions to make than what to eat next. It’s my first real vacation in two years and I am so grateful for a job that doesn’t just allow but honors the need for restoration of body, mind, and spirit, and encourages real time off. He was forty years old before he lived with a dog, said the author of an essay I read in a magazine mostly about crafts and decorating. His parents thought dogs were unsanitary and belonged outside. But his only child was desperate for one and they decided a puppy would be a good playmate. “I was not ready for how Greg (yes, the dog’s name was Greg) would change my life,” he wrote. Of the changes he listed, this one really hit home for me: “[Greg] taught me that it is enough to exist as a creature who loves and is loved. Forget accomplishments, forget riches – all our human strivings pale next to this.” They were the words I needed in the moment and have carried every day since, helping me to slow down and pay better attention to the love available in each moment, between whatever creatures occupy the moment. Every time I witness gentleness these days I am nearly done in by it. Like when a golden retriever entertains a one-year-old who has not yet learned not to pull her ears so hard. She just waits for him to let go then lays her big head on his arm as if to say, “Too much.” If only humans could be tender toward one another, would our need of vacation be so desperate? Or, if we all took more time for recovery and rest, might we all be more loving with one another, more able to honor the central truth embodied by a dog named Greg? I pray at least some part of this gorgeous day finds you at some gentle task you enjoy. ~peace & prayers, pastor annette
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Beloved: My 1-year-old grandson just learned to sign “more,” which he uses to mean more food, as well as please go get that ball I just threw? I spent a good part of yesterday chasing balls to toss back to him. Next time I’ll remember not to schedule the dog’s grooming the same day I’m keeping the baby. She lives to chase a ball. As babies go he’s practically perfect in every way: a good eater and sleeper who rarely cries and enjoys sitting outside with me watching and waving at the people, dogs, cars and squirrels passing by. He’s not terrified of the vacuum or the mowers. He’s content in the car, mostly, and he worships his big sister. Yet, what grandmother would say otherwise about her own babies’ babies? We’d all concede ours are the best of the bunch, the pick of the litter. Which is why my heart positively falls to pieces when I think of all the grand- mothers this world over who feel equally convinced and called to help raise these babies and yet face the daily obstructions to this most essential work, obstructions which come down to a single word – violence. Gun violence, the primary cause of child death in our own country.* The violence of poverty, of disease, of war, of corrupt politics, of addiction. None of which is entirely disconnected from the others, and each of which is for the most part preventable, should humanity ever choose to do the work to prevent it. Of course, like everything else, our work – the faith work – begins not in some legislative realm but in the human heart where the drivers of violence live: fear and greed, fear and hate, fear and grief, fear and fear, and fear upon fear. Fear which turns so easily into grief and greed and hate and anger before finally exploding among us as the violence on our streets and in our neighborhoods. Just imagine all this work actually getting done – thereby enabling every Abuela, Babushka, Bubbie, Baba, Cacky, Gran, Granny, Gram, Grammy, Grandma, Meema, Mamaw, Nan, Nana, Nin, Non, Nonna, Nonny, Netnet, and Lala everywhere to do her job freely and securely. Imagine a world full of grandmothers fit as soccer players from chasing wiffle balls instead of dodging bullets or scavenging scraps to feed their families one more day. I expect we’d all take a great deal more of that. ~peace & prayers, pastor annette * There were 2,526 gun deaths in 2022 among 1-to-17-year- olds, averaging to nearly 7 per day. I hope you will take the time to read this article. It takes less than two minutes. https://publichealth.jhu.edu/2024/guns-remain-leading-cause-of-death-for-children-and-teens.  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DWUvZBXGjNCU4?si=cc35c1c26fb34eea
Beloved: Sweater Weather Instrumentals is a six-hour playlist I found years ago that I start playing the first morning I take the dog out and can’t feel even a spit of summer on the air. I don’t remember ever playing it in September and certainly not this early! But I’ll take it, knowing good and well the humid heat is not gone for good. Besides, I still have tomatoes on the vine that need that heat to ripen. I nearly got through the season without getting stung, though not in my garden. In the bookstore café, by what bee or bug I didn’t see. First the pierce and then the fire. Rebecca, the café barista, gave me ice and asked if my mouth felt like it was swelling. I’m not allergic as far as I know, so all is well this morning. When soft weather changes and bee stings are the stuff of one's journal entries, hopefully she marks what peace her life is made of. This is not how I thought life would be now, yet who could possibly complain about such a blessed existence, a life so full of love and kindness? Every time I run the formula, what I miss compared to what I’ve kept keeps me grateful for the goodness of God, other people and golden retrievers. That is not to say the losses don’t still sometimes sting - only that they no longer overwhelm. They barely cast a shadow on this unexpectedly oh-so-peaceful life. Life will change and then change again, of course. From sugar to salt to sugar again, ‘round and ‘round it goes. The trick of faith is hanging on to what doesn’t change, God and love, wherever it shows up. And also showing up in love for others, as often as they need for as long as they need and we are able. I pray you know yourselves most profoundly held and loved this day. ~peace & prayers, pastor Annette Recipe: Apples & Hummus
*I’m not sure why apples are so expensive right now, maybe it’s the end of last year’s crop and they’ll be cheap again as soon as harvest starts.  Beloved: As I write I’m also texting with some of my kids about vacation details ~ a week at the beach in October. Sunshine and sleep. Books and good food. Watching the water wash in and out for hours, never getting bored of it. This morning I’m trying to get them to book their flights, but no luck so far. They are probably working - go figure. It’s the best part about booking a vacation months ahead, how it sits quietly on my calendar beyond the summer until suddenly it’s September and time to plan. Vacation anticipation all the way up to two days before departure when I don’t want to go. I get anxious about nothing in particular, just anxious. Halfway to the airport it’s all good again and I am excited and so very grateful. I’ve now lived several months longer than my mother did. Every moment I spend with my children and grandchildren is a gift I try to enjoy for both of us. Nothing in this life matters more than time with them when we can enjoy each other and make memories for another day. Vacation is a privilege not lost on me, but the same goes for everyday life too. Playing with these babies while they are little, knowing they are growing up so, so fast. Yesterday we were playing and the almost-4-year-old said to me: “Can I swing this at you just one time to see if it hurts?” “Uhm . . . No.” “Okay.” I laughed hard at the moment and typing it again now. I can’t think of one more interesting thing to do than that. Which is what makes the sorrows of this world so sorrowful ~ all the wars and famines and hateful policies which starve and steal the precious, God-given time together from so many people in this world. Or illness, like my mother’s. Sorrowful is too small a word - and yet - sorrow is not all this life contains. Grief comes and goes, as does lightheartedness. Each in their own season. Making whatever time we have together a treasure never to be taken for granted. The day outside is beautiful. I pray you don’t miss it. ~peace & prayers, pastor annette Images: The Gulf Coast where we’ll be. Link is to a song I’ve loved for a long time - about the Gulf Coast highway, only in Texas. Monarch update - the chrysalids from last week have not emerged and I haven’t found any others. Yesterday my granddaughter and I counted 9 fatso caterpillars on the milkweed, so we figure they are hidden in the trees or shrubs nearby. We are seeing monarchs so they must be close by. |
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
September 2025
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