Buttercups in Bloom

Ashes to Ashes The words….the sentiment….the mark across our foreheads Leave us standing in the darkness Pulls us into the grit of  uncertainty Acknowledges the grief that swells within. Your ashes have left us grieving. empty        wandering in silence.                   standing in the shadows. And yet, here in the shadows        of these trees,        we find new life. A life that rises from the soil A soil that nourishes in ways that we cannot see A soil that births something new out of devastation A soil that reveals beauty in the movements of the season. Here in the shadows,  we find a sliver of light reigning through. We find the strength of your character held among the black walnut, elm, ash, and poplar trees  We feel you envelop us through the thick, rich foliage that spreads across the ground. We hear your song of praise as the birds call to one ano...

In the thin veil where night begins to meet a new day you left this world.  Last Saturday we were gathered, the mood was heavy. We wanted to leave but you pulled us in, beckoning us to stay a little while longer.  You knew, you knew the days that lie before us would be transform us and you wanted us close.   I wanted to leave. I wanted to take a break but you called to Emma, asking her to stay and after a short nap you lulled us awake so that we might have another moment with you.  Your spirit left you in peace. As your body was prepared for your transport we stood shoulder to shoulder, tears flowed freely and we let your love envelope us.   My spirit is broken, my heart uncertain and my body weary in the realization that your heavy footsteps will never again come down the hallway.   I wonder did you know, did you hear how much I loved you?  Did I say it to you often enough?  I know you hear me now.  The pecans sit on the stair...

It was an unexpected interweaving of lives.   It wasn't chosen (at first) it unfolded because of the circumstances of a particular season of our lives.   We shared commonalities.  Our daughters ages put them in the same class.  We are close in age.  We stood in the same life stage. We were beginning again. Before I knew it wasn't just about the commonalities that drew us together.  Conversations weren't merely about the jobs that we held, they held personal stories, questions of the world, and dissatisfaction about theological and political teachings.  Time together was held in beautiful embraces that sustained us in moments of challenging situations.  Birthday cakes were made to help pull off surprises. Cards were sent at times of sorrow and celebration. Hugs were given when only a moment could be spared. A deep understanding of my particular weekend schedule was held in honor as plans were made and meals were shared.  Laughter has...

Two stone pillars line the drive; reaching high into the sky as if beckoning you forward.   As you enter, questions that have lingered beneath the surface come bubbling up.  The whisper of will I fit in, will I belong catches in your stomach There is a table with wooden chips, markers, and plastic string.  You make your name tag, survey the crowd, share a handshake in trepidation, and begin the small talk.  Staff members flit around the circles that have formed trying to calm the growing nerves.   Schedules are announced, you make your bunk bed, you settle in, and try to find your people.  Training begins, the nerves calm and relationships slowly unfold. Staff pairings are announced, team bonding experiences are had, and the work of setting up your camp overtakes all of the nerves. Sunday arrives, you dawn your summer staff shirt and you stand before campers as an official Mountain TOP Summer staffer.  You begin leading campers from small rur...

In my part of the world, the Cicadas are present.  It's as if the trees themselves are talking to one another, the cicadas have made their home high in the leaves, and are all moving their wings in such a way that leaves you feeling as if some foreign language is crying out upon you.  If you were to walk outside you would be bombarded with noise.  The noise itself is a bit irritating.  Their left-behind shells leave you with an eery feeling and perhaps an insight into what it must have felt like for the Israelites during the plagues that reigned down upon them. As I've been thinking about how loud and irritating these cicadas are, and amid the noise I've been reminded of the breathtaking ways that God forms and shapes my own life.  99% of their lives are spent underground as immature insects, anywhere from 13 to 17 years, let that sink in for a moment.  Thirteen to seventeen years to not yet fully formed to growing into who they were destined to be.  G...

It happened because of tough conversations.  It happened through brokenness. It happened despite our human frailties. Hope was held. It began in the murky waters of the Jordon. It made room for the sinners and the saints, the haves and have nots. It took shape in the breaking of the bread. It came to life as dawn gave way to the resurrection.  Love was present. It happened today. Each person seen....each person valued.....each person whole. It happened today. The work is just beginning. It happened today. Revival is ours for the taking. It happened today. Today, almost 26 years after I knelt at altar of my ordination my denomination has allowed the murky waters of the river Jordon to flow over them and held onto to Jesus in a way that we have not dared to do before.  Today with a 93% approval we removed exclusive language that kept the doors of ordination shut to our siblings who openly professed their 'homosexuality."  Today in what felt like a blink of an eye, the ...