Willingness

On Sunday, fifteen of us went on a field trip after church down to St. John's in Stamford, where we met with Linda Clapp of the Godly Play Foundation. We wanted to learn more about what Godly Play is all about. I've got to say, having a third of our active congregation say yes to going on a field trip that was a forty minute drive away on a 90 degree day that would take up an entire Sunday afternoon was both impressive and encouraging to me. It's not that all of these people want to get involved with teaching young children. But all of them are willing to entertain the possibility that they can help get this new project up and running at Grace by this fall. They are willing to learn what it's all about and willing to see if something about it calls them to get involved. They are willing enough, in fact, to give up a whole afternoon to just come and see.

There is something wonderful about being willing. I've been encouraging my boys to try out "yes" more often in their lives - as in - how do you know you don't like avocadoes until you try them? Before just immediately reacting to something new with a no, sometimes it's good to pause, think about stretching your usual boundaries and be willing to be open to a new perspective. You might discover you've been missing something you really love.

So to get back to being willing to take a whole afternoon to check out a new church project that everyone knows will take a lot of effort to enact: usually when you ask people to give up a whole afternoon, let alone potentially take part in an ambitious new project, they react almost fearfully - "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly add another thing. My life is so hectic, I don't have room for even a tiny thing more." It seems life is unmanageably busy for most of us these days. In fact, if you're not wildly busy, it almost seems like there's something wrong with you. A few years ago, I decided that when someone asks me how I am, I'm no longer going to respond by saying "Busy!" Because I don't want a busy life. What I want is a full life.

Sometimes choosing to get involved in a new project brings wonderful gifts into your life - a nourishing new fullness. Often, when you get involved in a challenging yet satisfying new project, you end up feeling like you're getting much more out of it than you ever put into it, even though you've given a whole lot. But you've got to be willing to come and see. If you just automatically say no to new opportunities, you may be missing out on a rich fullness that would make all the busy-ness of your life simply pale in comparison.

So I am so very grateful for the willingness of these 15 people to just come and see - to check something new out enough to see if anything about it calls to them. I'm really glad they tried out "yes."

Promises

Just a few days, really, after planting seeds, little sprouts began to come up in my garden. Here are the beans










Here are some radishes














Here are the squash, melons and cucumbers










Here is the corn














Here is the tomato and pepper bed, all planted with young plants that are already looking pretty vibrant and happy in their new digs












I find myself going out to the garden several times a day to just stare at it. It seems that everyday something new begins to sprout up. It's amazing to me that all I did was to put together some good dirt, add water and seeds and voila - vegetables! I don't know why I shake my head in wonder and almost disbelief. It has happened just as nature and all the gardening books have always promised. All I had to do was follow the steps of putting together a garden. It was a lot of work, I will admit, and maybe that's why although I've always wanted a garden like this, I never quite got around to it before. But because this year I took the steps I needed to take to get the garden established, the impossible dream of growing fresh, organic vegetables is becoming a promise fulfilled right in my own front yard. Granted, there's still a lot of growth yet to go, but each day, I see more progress.

Last Tuesday night at the big book study meeting at our church that I attend each week, we got to the paragraph that states the step 9 promises of AA (step 9 is when you make face to face appointments with people you have harmed or resented in your life and make earnest amends for your past behaviors toward them.) The paragraph says:

"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will sudenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves."

What amazing promises! They must seem like an impossible dream to someone in the throes of addiction. I know that about 20 years ago, when I was at my lowest point in life, living a life sorely affected by an alcoholic, I would have read such promises and shaken my head in disbelief. Freedom? Happiness? Having no regrets? Finding serenity and peace? having no more feelings of uselessness and self pity? The fear of economic insecurity will leave me? How could any of that ever, possibly come true for me?

But as amazing as such things would have seemed before I started my healing journey, I have since learned that by no means are these extravagant promises. I've learned that when I accept and acknowledge that my life has become unmanageable and take the first small step toward recovery, then the next and the next, always seeking progress rather than perfection, things do change. What is most important is to admit that "God is God, and I am not God." When I began to move forward in that kind of humility, I found that at some point when I paused and looked back, I saw very clearly that my life was no longer the same sad life I was once living. And I realized that the promises had actually begun to come true.

Go to the lumber store and get boards to build some boxes. Get some good compost. Mix it with peat moss and vermiculite so it will soak up lots of water. Put it in your boxes and separate it into sections. Keep it moist. Add seeds. Build trellises for the climbing plants. Protect the beds from animals. And you will get vegetables.

Turn your life over to God, trust God will take you better places than you can take yourself, allow God to remove those bad habits or reactions or life strategies that are not working, and trust God has better ways for you to be. Make intentional amends for your past errors and live a new way, and you will find a freedom that you never thought would ever be possible.

Again from the Big Book: "Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them."

God certainly promises us wonderful things. And wonderful promises like these are certainly worth working for.

Potential

Here they are, in all their glory - my square foot gardening beds. I've been dreaming of making gardens this way for a long time, and I'm very excited that after a lot of heavy prep work, they've actually materialized on my lawn and are all ready to plant. The only thing left to do, besides planting the seeds and seedlings themselves, is to make some wire cages to protect the seeds and seedlings from squirrels, birds and deer.

Look at them - all neat and orderly and ready for duty. There is a lot of potential in this small space. Using this intensive system, I could get lots and lots of fresh vegetables out of these gardens - potentially all our vegetables for the summer. But I am also well aware of what could go wrong. In fact, my sermon on Sunday included a lot about this garden and what it means to have hope. (that sermon is here.)

So I'm not putting my hopes just in the potential of this garden. My hopes are already soaring in joy just in just having these empty beds in my yard. I think there is the potential for much more than vegetables for me in tending this garden, and I am really looking forward to the whole process as it unfolds.

Commitment

This Saturday, the Episcopal churches of the Bridgeport deanery had their confirmation service with our new bishop, Ian Douglas. There were dozens of people there, making a conscious and intentional and public affirmation of their faith. Some were being confirmed, and some who had already been confirmed in a different tradition were being formally received into the Episcopal tradition. Our friend Chris from Grace Church was one of the people who was received. Chris started coming to Grace Church last fall, and something just clicked for him. I believe God called him here. This just seems like the right place and the right time for him to take part in the life of a church community, and we are so grateful to have him among us.

Chris felt called to make it all official, and here he is, with his Mom, the bishop, me, and Nikki, one of the priests from St. Paul's where the service was held. His sisters were there, as were a number of Grace Church people. We were all there to witness Chris' new commitment to his faith and to the church. Afterward, we all went back to Grace Church where we had a beautiful pot luck lunch to celebrate.

We all know Chris cares about the church and is going to be among us for the foreseeable future. So we really didn't have to give up a Saturday to go to a two hour long service with the bishop, and Chris didn't have to get all dressed up and drive his family all the way down here, and we didn't have to make all the fuss of putting on a luncheon and Chris' sister didn't really have to make the most beautiful cake any of us had ever seen, either. But you know what? It was really, really important to do these things. Because it's important not just to notice someone's commitment, but to publicly recognize and celebrate it. Chris' commitment is something the entire church (Grace Church and the whole Episcopal church) needed to respond back to and acknowledge and formally notice.

I talk a lot about how the current model of church in our country is unsustainable and about how it needs to change. I talk a lot about how we need to discern what God is calling us to do together and how we need to find new ways to enter into God's mission in the world. I talk a lot about how people of faith have to walk the walk of discipleship and not be complacent and content with 'social club' churches. I talk a lot about how people need to step up and respond to God's call to us. But talk is cheap. Without commitment, none of this will ever happen, and our church will just be one of many that will die away over the next few decades.

So I am moved by Chris' commitment to our little church community, and I was thrilled to have him take part in the whole fancy ceremony of being received as an Episcopalian by a bishop dressed in full regalia. And I was also thrilled that our church showed up to witness Chris' commitment and that we came together on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to have a party, when certainly, there were other things we could have been doing. Because we were walking the walk that day. We showed up to put our feet where our thoughts and mouths are. We were being the church together.

Wisdom from the Woods 4

There are paths on both sides of the river. On one side is the groomed rail trail used by joggers, bicyclists and leashed dog walkers, on the other is the rustic trail, used by nature lovers, mountain bikers and unleashed dog walkers. The rustic side sticks closer to the edge of the river, and when I'm walking on this side, sometimes I get a glimpse of something on the other side that I wish I could get a closer look at. But unless I want to take off my shoes and socks, roll my pants way up and risk slipping and getting wet, there is no good way to get across the river and remain dry anywhere except for this one bridge.

Bridges are important. Sure, you can always be an adventurer and try to find your own way across the river. One of my boys was saying, as he jumped from rock to rock trying to navigate his way across without the bridge one day, that "bridges are for woosies." This statement was made right before he fell in and got soaked on a 45 degree day. All I know is that taking the time to go out of my way and walk down to the bridge is always a sure path to the other side.

I can think of a lot of bridges in life that have helped me to get from the side I'm on to the side I need to get to. The church has been one, so have the 12 steps. Whenever I've had a good friend hold my hand through a rough time or a teacher who's shown me the way - their help has been like a bridge for me, too. Even though I've spent plenty of time in my life jumping fruitlessly from rock to rock, trying to forge my own way and often getting pretty wet in the process, I've had to accept that sometimes a bridge is the only good way to get across a divide in my life. A bridge is not just for woosies. It is for anyone who's serious about getting over to new territory. And we all need help in life, especially when we're headed into the unknown.

So I am grateful for all the bridges that have helped me across in life and for the ones before me that I have yet to cross.