Seeing Myself as Others See Me

So, just recently we started videotaping our sermons and posting them on the website.  This is a good thing, but I've got to adjust to having myself projected on the small screen.  I remember, as a kid, hearing my tape recorded voice for the first time and being amazed at how different my voice sounded from the way I heard it inside my own head.  "Is that really how I sound?" I asked incredulously.  Sure - of course - was the answer.  Wow, I didn't soud at all like I think I sounded.

This discomfort has now all been taken up a notch for me with these videos.  Do I really look like that?  That is not how I picture myself in my own head.  Do I really blink that much?  Is my voice really that sharp?  Are my nose and teeth really that big?  And for that matter, is my neck really that scrawny? 

Some people look in the mirror and see nothing but flaws and imperfections - even magnifying them and imagining them larger and more pronounced than they really are. 

Some people look in the mirror and overlook their flaws - moving into a place of denial about what they could improve. 

What I would like to do is to look at the mirror (or at the videos) and embrace what I see with love, not magnifying my flaws or ignoring my shortcomings.  Despite my own initial negative reaction, I need to remind myself that everyone who has met me sees me the way I look on the videos.  No one thinks there's anything "wrong" with how I look or sound.  It's just how I look and sound!  Since so far no one has run screaming, so I guess it must not be all that bad.  I am simply an average bear.  Oh bother.  I guess this is just another thing to put in the God box!

O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and light rises up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what you would have us do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save us from all false choices, and that in your light we may see light, and in your straight path may not stumble; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Babies in Church

Today we had two new babies in church - a 6 week old and a 9 month old.  They both made joyful noise at the most appropriate places.  The younger baby slept for most of the service, but woke up and cried a hungry cry at the pinnacle of the Eucharistic Prayer.  Obviously he'd heard the invitation to partake in spiritual food!  The older baby seemed always to exclaiming "Amen!" at very appropriate places throughout the service.  I loved his enthusiasm - and actually, sometimes I wish that proper adult Episcopalians would be that enthusiastic about the sermon and the prayers.

Babies add a different energy to a group of people, and our congregation was practically giddy with excitement in having babies among us today.  I lost count of how many people said something like, "It's so wonderful to hear babies in church!"

It may be the middle of Lent, but it felt like the nativity on Christmas morning at Grace Church today.

Signposts

After a long, trying winter, today I finally got back into the woods today for a beautiful walk by the river.  I noticed that the mountain bikers had recently repainted the blazes on the trees.  I know the trail well, but there are places where bikes have made alternate paths, so it felt good to have strong, clear blazes to follow.  After all, it had been a while since I'd walked the trail.

And I was thinking about how we always need signposts in life, even when we're travelling down a road we've been down before.  I remember as a child, on the familiar trip to our summer home, I always looked for the same office building along Route 128 with the mirrors along its roof.  When I saw it, I knew we were headed to New Hampshire.  There were other landmarks along the 2 1/2 hour route, each one assuring me that we were getting closer to our destination.  This reminds me how each year during Lent, we hear the same weekly prayers and consider the same readings, and then during Holy Week, we participate in the same rituals each year.  The familiar words and liturgies are like signposts, like blazes, assuring us that we're on track and that we're moving closer to the promise of Easter.

Signposts also remind us that others have travelled this path before us.  The blazes on the trees in the woods tell me that I'm not the only one that cares about and travels on this woodland trail.  It is wonderful that someone took the time to make it possible for me to venture forth into the woods that first time with blazes to lead me.  If no one marked the trail, people who've never been there before would not be able to learn the way.  So, marking the trail is an important responsibility.  If those of us who love the trail don't create trailmarkers, no one but us will be able to enjoy it, and once we're gone, the path will no longer exist.

The same is true for church. Those of us who have a strong connection with church no longer need blazes to find our way here. We don't need signposts to find our way around the building and we don't need instructions in the bulletin about how to follow the liturgy. But if we care about church enough, we'll want it to be for others, not just ourselves. So we need to create clear blazes for those who are less familiar with the way. If we tend to our signposts, just like the mountain bikers tend the blazes in the woods, the path can become a favorite journey for others yet to come.

Today on the trail was one of those times I was strongly reminded that the most important people for the church are the people who haven't found their way there yet.  (Just like it's frequently repeated that the newcomer is the most important person in a 12 step meeting.)  We're not in the business of creating a club for insiders.  We're called to go out into the world and to put bright and clear blazes on the trees everywhere we go.  Or or maybe more accurately, we're called to be living, walking blazes ourselves - so that who we are and what we do can help show the way for people who haven't found the way yet. 

Following the Star

The three kings arrived in our creche at church this morning.  And I am looking forward to using those kings as my mentors in 2011.  Why?  A few reasons:

1. They noticed the world around them and noticed things they wouldn't have expected.

It's easy to just go through life assuming things are the way I think they are.  But if I can be like those wise kings, I will keep my eyes and my mind open to things I'm not expecting.  In their case, it was a star that did not conform to any of their charts or expectations.   I have no idea what surprises I'm in for this year, but I hope I'll welcome them with as much openness and curiosity as the kings had.

2. They were willing to go a long way to find what they were looking for.

Sometimes I can put things on a back burner when they might take a lot of effort or seem incovenient for me.  But if its something that really needs doing, I need to pack up my camel and get going.  When the kings knew something important was happening, they packed up and went across whole continents to reach their goal.

3. They followed.

The kings did not know where that unusual star would lead them.  They only knew that they were being led to something important.  Sometimes I don't move until I know where I'll end up.  This year, I'll try to start my day like those kings - asking for direction and then following.  I want to spend my days with eyes, ears, heart and mind open to follow God's call.

4. They were willing to change direction

Sometimes I can get a goal in mind and force my way forward toward it in the way that seems best to me.  But the kings didn't do that.  They listened, discerned and just followed the star where it led, even though it might not have made sense to their educated brains and even thought they had no idea where they'd end up.  And they were also open to the need to go home by a different way than they'd come.  They were not stubborn about the right way to do things and were willing to change course.

5. They were generous

The kings gave of their gifts and resources lavishly to Christ.  A little baby born to a poor couple in a stable.  God, I just want to at least remember to buy cereal for the food pantry every week.  And I want to be a really good sharer.

At our church we each get a gift from the three kings - a special word or phrase for the year.  My phrase was "being childlike."   I took this to mean having a beginner's mind.  And I wonder if that's the very thing I admire in these three kings so much - a very wise openness to the new and unexpected things God is always doing and a willingness to respond by following along with trust.  I pray I really take this special gift to heart in 2011.

Abundance

 I never shared the pictures of my late garden, taken at the end of September.  Here are the collards, carrots, beets and nasturtiums.  The cabbages were already gone.  The trellis in back was covered with cucumbers and winter squash earlier in the season.

Here are some of the red peppers ripening.  I've got to say, I don't think I've ever tasted a pepper before.  Fresh from the garden, these were as juicy and as sweet as apples.

This is one of the thousands of morning glory blooms that sprang from one seed, planted on the edge of the tomatoes.  I figured the morning glory would climb the tomato vines and they did!  It took until late fall for them to begin to bloom, and then they were amazingly vigorous. 

This picture does not do justice to the amount of amazing tomatoes we got - both round and plum.  The green ones I picked at the end of the season are still ripening into juicy, delicious fruit on the kitchen windowsill today.

Here are just a couple of the Asian yard long beans.  They really were a yard long, and they had a firm texture and a nutty taste.  Only two or three beans were enough for a meal!  In the background is the already cleared bed that held 48 corn plants that actually yielded great silver queen corn, but we had to fight the worms for it.

The garden was more abundant than I had dreamed it would be, but not in the ways I'd imagined.  I had more cucumbers than I knew what to do with from only two plants until they mysteriously all turned soft and yellow and died.  But they were great while they lasted.  My winter squash vines took off like a shot and grew hundreds of blossoms.  In the end only two of the blossoms developed into a squash - the rest just fell off.  I had more tomatoes than I expected and frankly, I didn't expect any corn at all - but I actually had some!  It felt like a real accomplishment.  The carrots were thick and straight and beautiful, and the beets were big and round, but the cilantro died and the melon never sprouted.  I didn't get the greens I'd hoped for.  The collards, grown from young plants produced well all summer, but the kale, spinach, chard and lettuce I planted from seed really didn't grow much at all.  That was disappointing, since my main reason for wanting a garden was for greens.  But the peppers and the fresh parsely and basil made up for it.  They were much better than I could ever have imagined.

Sometimes you can fall into thinking that abundance means having it all.  But my garden this year reminded me that true abundance - the God give kind - is not the same as getting everything you want.  True abundance is in the awareness that you've been given a blessing, and it often comes in unexpected ways, and what you don't get only makes you love what you do get all the more.