Sometimes life takes us to an unknown place.  We may have some notions of what this place could be like, or we may have no idea at all.  We have not yet been there. Life is continually a journey into the unknown. A friend shared with me today that he has been told he has Alzheimers/Dementia.  There have been no outward signs, no suspicions at all by anyone.  It is a total shock!  It is truly hard to believe and I find myself struggling over the news.  I don’t want to see this happening to my friend.  How fast will it come?  What about his family and friends?  How will it be for him inside that unknown place?  What will he know and understand?  What will he not know?  What will he not understand?

I began to think of moments in my ministry that spoke to me….

–  Jane had Alzheimer’s in a late stage.  We were not sure who she knew or did not know.  She seemed uneasy at this moment.  I had come to bring her Holy Communion.  I gently placed a very tiny crumb of the bread into her mouth and said,  “Jane, Jesus loves you.”  I wondered if she heard me inside that unknown place.  She tasted.  Then a wonderful peace came over her.  She smiled and continued the sentence softly….” loves me…….loves me………..loves me……………..loves…………..me………….”.  She knew.

– Leslie had lost her sight suddenly.  I had known her for years.  Such devastating news that she would not regain her sight!  She now must learn a new way to live.  Years later I saw her again in another city.  Across the room I became captivated seeing her face as we were singing a worship song about the light.  She had a beautiful glow on her face.  I felt so sad watching her sing while knowing her loss.  Later as we talked, I expressed my feelings to her.  She responded, “Nancy, what you don’t know is that when I became blind, the light never left me! I have always seen the light!”  Wow!  I had no idea.

– Our Mission Team was on our way to an unknown place in Africa.  What would it be like?  As we flew over the Sahara Desert, the world’s largest hot desert, I looked out the window of the plane.  I had never witnessed such a vast picture of miles of nothing but hot sand blown by the wind.  NOTHING.  Yet, I was drawn there.  It was a strong feeling which surprised me!  I realized in that moment, with nothing else present as far as I could see, there could only be God!  Suddenly it all became the fullness of the presence of God.

I think about these moments and I ask…Is this what Alzheimers is like inside that unknown place?  What about any unknown place you and I face?  Perhaps the unknown place is a place of knowing.

I remember the words of scripture….”Nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God…..” Thanks God!!

nk

I took an art class in Sedona, Arizona on journaling and watercolor sketches.  I loved this class.  I actually knew from the moment I read about the class that it would be something I would love.  One of the exercises given to us by the teacher was to write a brief response to each of the colors she gave us.  We were not to spend a lot of time thinking about each color, but rather write what feeling or expression or thought that came to our mind immediately about that color.  You might try it just for fun and see what pops in your mind.  I’ll share what I wrote with you….

WHITE….is the color of clouds….space.

YELLOW….is the color of sunflowers….happy.

ORANGE…is the color of sunrise…new life, a gift you can’t hold on to.

PINK….is the color of my granddaughter….exuberance.  A different shade of pink…. the color of Pepto Bismol…nausiating.

RED…is the color of my kitchen stove hood…..out of the box, daring.   The color of passion.

PURPLE…is the color of a new dress I love….sassy.  The color can be great or ugly.

PALE GREEN….is the color of soap that smells good, soothing.

GREEN…is the color outside my back window….new life for nature, birth.

PALE BLUE ….is the color of sky….open, freedom, possibility.

BLUE….is the color of ocean….beyond the horizon, unending, beyond what we know or see, mystery, love.

BROWN…is a boring color to me.   It is a color my Mom always wore, and she was NOT boring!

GRAY….is the color of old people’s hair, or gloomy days.

BLACK…is the color of darkness.  It can be striking and beautiful, a contrast, depth, unknown, fearful.

This is a sketch I did in a journal of the colors expressing God’s creation.  I wish I had done it on unlined paper, but I still love the feel of these colors being born through the breath of God!

nk

Callie’s Birthday is July 14 and she is five years old.  We celebrated early one night last week at our home with Birthday cake and song.  The next night as we sat down for dinner, she wanted us all to sing “Happy Birthday” to her again.  Her Mom, Susan, said, ” Not now, but after the blessing we will sing.” Susan then asked who would like to give the blessing.  Callie immediately shouted, “ME!”

She likes to sing “Johnny Appleseed” for the blessing and her little brother, Travis, age 2, sings along with her.  He knows every word, but can’t quite keep up with her exuberant speed, so there is a bit of melody and mumbling coming from his end of the table as they sing the blessing together.

This particular time Callie changes the words up a little.  “Oh the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord, for giving me the things I need….the sun, and rain, and the Birthday cake….”.  At this point Travis yells “NO!  THAT’S NOT RIGHT!”  She does not miss a beat, and keeps on singing, inserting the word “birthday” every chance she gets….”the Birthday Lord is good to me!”  Every time she inserts the word “birthday” Travis again yells, “NO!”  Every one of us around the table tries our best to keep a straight face. (It reminded me of the movie “Christmas Vacation” when Granny was asked to say the blessing and began, “I pledge allegiance to the flag…”).  I must admit I peeked during all of this to see how my daughter was reacting.  She kept her eyes closed and her hands reverently folded in prayer, a gentle, growing smile on her face.  Then at the loud “AMEN!”, Susan looked up at me with a big smile, a knowing glance, and not a word.  We all proceeded to sing “Happy Birthday” to Callie.

Some thoughts to ponder…..

What is most important about prayer….the words we say?, the attitude in which we pray?, being willing and unafraid to do it?

How quickly do we react to judge the religious expression of others?  What is acceptable in God’s sight?

How would God be reacting to this prayer…..wanting to teach how to pray?, thinking someone really gets it about the joy of BIRTH days?, smiling at the whole dinner scene?, laughing out loud?

Remembering the words of Jesus…”Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.” (Luke 18: 15-17).   How can you and I become more like children?

nk

My daughter and her young children are visiting in our home this week and as I watched her braid her daughter’s hair this morning I remembered something I had written when my daughter was a little girl…..

“Moments Relived”

I sat on the bed, brushing her long, light brown hair, my precious grandmother.  How she loved to have her hair brushed and how I loved doing that.  Hair that went all the way down one’s back was a novelty to me as a young girl.  As I brushed and braided, and unbraided, combed, and brushed again, I listened to Grandma tell story after story of growing up on the farm….the mules pulling the plow, her dog Fido, and her big brother Ed, whom she loved dearly.  I never tired of hearing the story, and the sound of her voice making it come alive.

I sat on the bed and brushed her short, dark hair, my precious mother.  It came out in clumps in my hands….something she couldn’t bear to do alone….a moment that desperately needed to be shared.  What would she think when she looked into the mirror?  I knew Mama was still beautiful, but would she know that?  Would the chemotherapy kill cancer cells like it killed her hair?  It’s so hard to understand a medicine that brings some sort of death to prevent another death!  Will I ever brush her hair again?

I sat on the bed and brushed her hair, my precious child.  She loved to have her hair braided into French braids.  I wonder why?  Was it because she looked so cute in those braids?  Or was it because her Grandma used to fix it that way?  I wonder what stories Mama used to tell her as she spent time brushing and braiding, unbraiding and brushing.  I’m glad Mama taught me how to do French braids before she died. I try, but my fingers just aren’t as quick and nimble with it all.  I keep at it though, with confidence and a smile, and a story or two.  How the braids turn out isn’t what is most important!

nk

I am in Colorado this week, high up in the mountains at 8,600 feet, with all my children and grandchildren ( with the exception of my oldest grandson).  You get a glimpse with the photos above.  Children with me are Steve and Susan.  Grandchildren are Ben, Grant, Anna, Molly, Callie, and Travis.  It is quite lively around here…filled with voices, joy, love, imagination, and lots of play.  Yesterday ALL of us were playing the game “Twister”.  In case you have never played this game, there is a mat on the floor full of different colored dots.  Each player takes a turn as they are asked to put a hand or foot on a different colored dot.  ( see photo above).  Everyone gets all twisted up in amazing ways.  It can be quite challenging and hilarious. It was very fun and full of laughter for all of us.  They were all worried about Grammy, but these long legs still work really well in such games!  It’s a great way to get all tangled up and enjoy it!

There are SO many moments I want to capture here and keep…driving golf carts with the older kids, the 2 year old dancing and singing “Tomorrow”, almost beating my grandsons in pool, serving dessert with Grant from a special rolling cart each evening,  hiking in the beauty of God’s world, sitting on the deck at night with a beautiful full moon.

But here is an all time favorite moment for me. All of the little ones can’t wait to run and jump in bed with me early in the morning.  I can hear their anticipation, whispers, and giggles behind the door.  “Can we go in and see Grammy yet?”.  When they can’t stand it anymore, the door flies open, they run in and leap into bed with me from all directions.  As the saying goes….”more fun than a barrel full of monkeys!”. We hug and kiss, and wrestle, and roll around, and laugh out loud.  It is pure joy!  Then we snuggle and talk about anything and everything.  My favorite moment for a GOOD MORNING!  Thanks God!

nk

With three sons in the family, my daughter-in-law woke up one night in the middle of the night and said,  “Our daughter is in China and we need to go get her!”  After much time of application, interviews, and preparation, they were finally accepted to receive their little girl. The time was drawing near when the bird flu epidemic arose and threatened my granddaughter’s arrival.  We were all hoping and praying!  I received the card you see above. If you click on the card and enlarge it, you can read the quote about the “Red Thread”.  I put the card in my journal and held the words of hope in my heart.

One day during this waiting time, I was writing in my journal, reading again the card, and suddenly I remembered that I had an Asian doll when I was a little girl.  My Mom gave it to me.  Her Mom, my grandmother, had traveled around the world and brought the doll to her when she was a little girl. I searched through all my old dolls in the attic and I found the doll.  She was a bit worn from all that love, and I had to glue her hair back on her head.  I set her down on the table beside me.  I wondered if she was from China.  I didn’t really know, but I so wanted her to be from China!  Well, I could pretend, but I wanted to KNOW!  Then suddenly I glanced at the bottom of her shoe and my grandmother had written “China” on the bottom of her shoe!  I was so excited to know!  Then, I noticed something else.  There were red threads woven into her braids!  Oh my goodness….the red threads!  That moment was huge for me.  I read the card again….

“When a child is born, invisible red threads extend from the child’s spirit and connect to all the significant people who will be part of the child’s life.” The child’s great, great grandmother, her great grandmother, her grandmother….we were all present in some way in that moment in those red threads!   Somehow I knew God had whispered to me that my granddaughter had arrived.  Soon she would be coming.

My granddaughter Anna is now 10 years old.  You see her picture above.  She is beautiful in every way.  Recently she was doing a history project for school and she wanted to know all about when and why our ancestors came to America.  I wrote her all about my grandmother, her great, great grandmother, and how her family came to America on a sailboat from Germany many years ago.  Anna was so excited to hear all about her family.

One night we crawled into her bed together. She read me a book.  Suddenly she stopped in the middle of her reading and said to me, “Grandma, I think you and I are alike!”  I love her so much!

nk

My granddaughter Molly, age 7, decided she wanted to make bracelets for all her family.  With the exception of her Dad, she measured each wrist, asked what colors each would like, and made custom bracelets for each person.  They were individualized, yet all the same style.

Travis, the little guy, age 2, was thrilled at the gift his oldest sister had made for him.  (See photo above).  My daughter said she had never seen him so excited about anything.  He ran immediately to show his Mom, wanted to kiss it “goodnight”, then couldn’t wait to put it back on in the morning.  The next day he would come up to his Mom and click their bracelets together saying, “Cheers!”.  (Don’t ask me how a 2 year old gets that!”).

Well, today their Dad got surprised for Fathers Day with his matching bracelet.  Because he is the Dad I know him to be, I had NO doubt that he would put it on immediately and proudly wear it to church today with the rest of the family.  It was interesting, however, that he looked down the pew in worship and saw another young Dad wearing a bracelet.  Only the other guy’s bracelet was made out of pipe cleaners!

All this “family bonding” by wearing matching bracelets made me think about our world and how we are meant to be “one family”.  We are all God’s children!  We belong together.  Yet, there are divisions among us that lead to separation, pain, and even violence.  Thinking about what happened in South Carolina last week….the young man, so full of hatred, almost changed his mind when he attended the prayer service and felt so welcome by those people of a different color.  He must have, for one brief moment, felt he belonged to the one big family of all God’s children.  But then, what happened?  We must all ask ourselves….what, when is the MOMENT for each of us to choose love?

nk

She lived across the street from the house in which I grew up.  I don’t remember her name…perhaps I never knew it.  What I do remember is that for some strange reason as a young child I would find myself regularly knocking at her door.  Her daughter, Mrs. Schulz, would answer.  She was a kind woman who was always busy, or at least I thought so because she always seemed a bit out of breath and in constant motion.  She was always very happy to see me and would bubble over with excitement.  Now I realize she was grateful for the company, for she kept a constant vigil of loving and caring.  I am sure there were days that she longed for another face, even that of a child.

Mrs. Schulz led me down a long, narrow hallway, dimly lit, to that room I had come to know so well.  I walked to the bed…it was an old bed and the mattress sat up high.  There was an old wheelchair beside the bed that was made out of wood.  I was very curious about that old chair with the big wheels!

Everything else in the room fades in my memory, blurs out in the light of that face.  My friend was totally paralyzed.  She was propped up in the big bed with lots of huge pillows.  It seems that she was dressed in a pretty gown.  Her face was old with lots of wrinkles, and in spite of its lack of expression, her face was a kind face.  What I remember most are her eyes.  They were all that could speak and they spoke volumes.  Sometimes they danced with delight at the mere sound of my voice.  Sometimes big tears would roll down her cheeks as everything else laid motionless.  I was fascinated with the way eyes could talk and how much love I felt pouring out of those eyes for me.  I didn’t know much else about her.  I still wonder what led me so often to that place just to be with her in silence, loving her and letting myself be loved by her.  Maybe sometimes words get in the way.

I still see those blue eyes.  They come back to me from time to time in my ministry.  I saw them in the child in Haiti who was hungry.  I saw them in Celeste, a young woman in her final days of cancer.  As other things shut down, the silent voice of the eyes speaks more loudly, with deeper intensity.  Those who care stop to listen.

Perhaps, my dear Mrs. Blue Eyes, you taught me as a child the sensitivity to listen to those eyes.  Thank you for your friendship.  Those moments with you were precious, and who would have ever thought that you who were speechless could have been such a loud voice for this child!  Perhaps it is from you, my friend, that I began to hear the voice of silence.

nk

My first church was in a bowling alley.  Actually, I know that my family attended churches before this one.  It’s just the first church I remember.

I was 7 years old when my family moved to West Texas.  We lived in an apartment while our house was being built.  The back door of each apartment opened to a large common courtyard area.  I loved the freedom I had there to play with all my friends and ride my bike.  I dreamed up some pretty adventurous things for all of us to do. There was a young man living there, a pastor who was starting a new church.  He heard that my Mom had a degree in music and asked if she would help start the church.  It all began in a bowling alley.

Now, I only have one memory of that church and it was just a moment.  My sister and I held hands and stood before that very small congregation in the bowling lanes on Thanksgiving Sunday.  I was 7 and she was 5.  We sang a duet, “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing….”.  In that moment, I felt loved and accepted by that church.  Even though I was a little scared, I felt I was doing something for God.  It was good.

Last fall I went back to my home town for my high school reunion.  I went to the apartment I used to live in, and amazingly it looked exactly the same.  I looked for the bowling alley but it was gone.  That evening at the reunion dinner, pictures were shown of the “good ‘ole days”.  Suddenly there popped on the screen a photo of the bowling alley!  “That’s my church”, I shouted.  I was able to get a copy and I keep it in my Bible.  Here it is…

It is exactly the scene I have in my mind of where we stood to sing that day.  Now, the best part….It reads, “World’s Finest Bowling Alley”.  YES!  Indeed it is!  It holds my treasured moment. My first church!

What is your memory of a moment in your first church?  How was that moment important to your faith?

nk

Last Sunday the Sacraments of Holy Communion and Baptism were both celebrated at my church. To be honest, I was really missing the opportunity to be the pastor leading worship that day.  My heart was longing to bless the bread and wine, to serve the people.  My heart was longing to bless the water, hold the babies and baptize them.  God’s grace was being poured out.

Then something quite special happened.  One of the older sisters of the twin babies who were being baptized became so full of joy that she could not be still.  You can see my artistic expression of her in the photo above.  She was clapping and dancing on the chancel area. Her beautiful curls bounced as she danced. It seemed the Holy Spirit filled her as well, and then, filled with grace, she expressed on behalf of the entire congregation the true meaning of baptism!  God had just claimed her little brother and sister as true children of God, and all of God’s family, both in Heaven and on earth, rejoiced to welcome them and love them exuberantly and unconditionally.  Wow!  No one could have said it better than this little child.

I so loved the moment that I knew I had to write about it.  I noticed the young woman in front of me, who was part of the family, had taken a photo.  I wrote my email on a piece of paper, hoping she might send the photo to me.  Then I was hesitant, thinking to myself, “I am a stranger to her!”. Finally I whispered something to her before the closing song and handed her the paper.  She actually sent the photo to me instantly.  I was surprised.

Then another something quite special happened.  After worship I thanked the woman and she said, “I recognized your name.  You were at Bear Creek UMC years ago.”  “Yes!”, I replied, “that is where I began my ministry.”  She continued, “I remember you.  In fact, you were the one who baptized these children’s father!” I looked over at that young Dad holding those two babies in his arms.  Truly, in that moment my heart leaped with joy.  It felt like all had come full circle. It felt like a family reunion. We were all there.  We had all come home.  It was a HOLY MOMENT!  I just can’t stop smiling about it. God is so good!

nk