My fingers ache
from the cold
and for those
who cannot come in
from the cold.
My heart aches for family, friends
and people I have not met, will never meet,
who heavy loads bear:
illness and sorrow
grief, pain and worry.
My soul aches for God’s children
in this city and around the world
who endure violence,
overt or structured
this day, every day.
I ache.
And I wonder,
is there a balm?
7 January 2014
Shire Near the Hudson
A simple star cut from paper bearing a word – received as a gift from God on Epiphany or the Sunday closest to Epiphany.
Many congregations participate in the practice known as Epiphany Stars.
Here’s how it works: Individuals have the opportunity to pick out of a basket a paper star. The star will have a word on it, naming a gift from God; visually, nothing special, as God’s gifts are not always flashy. Sometimes the gift is known by all to be one that you already evidence or experience in abundance. Sometimes you will feel that it is something you’ve needed, a challenge to work on. Often it’s something you don’t understand, or could learn more about. In any case, it will provide you an opportunity to ponder and pray in the coming year. It’s suggested that you display it during the year in a place where you will see it often.
As far as I know, the first Presbyterian congregation to experience Epiphany Star Gifts was Carpinteria Community Church in Carpinteria, California when the Rev. Sam Roberson served as pastor. An article about Epiphany Star Gifts appeared sometime during the late 1980s in Presbyterian Survey. A number of congregations picked up the idea, including Noble Road Presbyterian Church in Cleveland Heights where my partner and I served as co-pastors.
Noble Road has continued to share stars each Sunday. Even after Tricia and I took other calls, our sons would draw stars for us. This year, Tricia preached at Noble Road. The star she drew for me said: RESPECT.
I have long wondered if I am Batman. Now I am thinking that I may be Aretha.
See you along the Trail.
This originally appeared on Facebook as a response to a friend who asked:
What is home? How do you create a sense of home inside you?
After some reflection, I respond:
Home is the place where I belong, truly belong. I may find myself belonging in several places: Pittsburgh, where I grew up; Cleveland Heights where my wife lives and my children grew up; New York, where I live now. But home is the place (and it is not on that list) where my sense of belonging is strongest and most clear. It is the place I yearn for in times of stress and sorrow; it is the place that feeds my spirit and my soul even when I am not there. For me, I knew it was home the first time I arrived there.
Home are the people, past and present, who nurture and mentor me; challenge and infuriate me; love me.
Home is the place that awaits me.
Home is the journey. It is the Trail, in the language of this blog.
Home is a gift.
How would you answer?
See you along the Trail.
Three years ago, I thought I may have said farewell to my mentor and friend Merdine T. Morris. She was ill at the time. Seriously ill. When I left her room at the Fairmount Health Center, I thought that day’s visit might well have been our last. Others agreed with me.
But Merdine T. proved us wrong. She not only made it through that crisis, she improved. She has been able to leave the health center for various events. She did so again today.
Our mutual friend Nan Dorer celebrated her 90th birthday today with a party at Noble Road Presbyterian Church. Tricia and I took Merdine T. to the party.
The day was wonderful. Friends old and young, long-time and new, greeted Merdine T. warmly. Her presence meant the world to Nan. We stayed for the children’s program and carol singing. Merdine T. beamed. When we returned to the Fairmount Health Center, staff members commented on the joy that filled her face. A wonderful day.
A big shout-out to Bob Pescho and Dan Wills for their work on the church’s chair lift that allowed Merdine T. to attend the worship service. A shout-out to Eric, Dan, John, Maria, Cathy, and all who helped Merdine T. navigate her way to the various events. A shout-out to David Dorer who took the photo with this post.
When I visited her three years ago, Merdine T. said “Never forget me.” “Never,” was my response then. “Never,” is my response now.
See you along the Trail.
I have resisted including explanations with my posts in the Advent-photo-a-day. This one is different. It calls for some words.
One year ago, December 12, 2012, Cindy Bolbach, moderator of the 219th General Assembly (2010) of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), died.
In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection, I posted an invitation to my friends to pause wherever they were and lift a toast in thanks for the life and witness of Cindy Bolbach at 20:10 that evening. Many people participated. My son Sean joined me at a spot off Times Square where we took this photo.
The hope we celebrated one year ago holds Cindy and all of us still. Thanks be to God. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
7 April 2007
Noble Road Presbyterian Church
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
Filed under Advent, Cleveland Heights, Friends, Photo
The last two days provided a reminder of the importance of a network of friends.
The lesson began Friday morning. I had traveled to Louisville for a week of staff meetings. Friday’s involved all the staff members of the Presbyterian Mission Agency.
Worship opened the day. A celebration of the year’s highlights followed. Then came the recognition of our colleagues for years of service.
This played out against a weather forecast that as early as Wednesday called for bad weather. Some staff members from out of town chose to change their airline tickets early Friday morning. I did not.
The weather warnings continued as the day progressed. During the first workshop, leadership made the decision. We heard the announcement that the staff day was suspended. We could leave. The building would close at 3:00.
After one last conversation and a quick lunch, I tried to change my flight. It proved a fruitless endeavor. I decided to go to the airport and see what happened there.
I arranged to stay with Sara and John Lisherness if I could not leave. Ryan Smith took me to the airport. Some ice had accumulated. A cold icy, rain fell.
I checked in my flight. The weather deteriorated. Flights were cancelled. Snow began. Around 2:30, my plane was cancelled.
I booked a flight for today and then took a cab to John and Sara’s house where I spent a pleasant evening. As the snow piled up, the driver made his way to Willow. He even made it up the hill from Eastern Parkway. “Up the hill?” he asked. “Up the hill, sir,” I replied.
This morning, at 9:30 AM, John took me to the airport for a day’s travel adventure that ended around 8:00 PM.
Tricia began the trek from Cleveland to the Shire even earlier. She had an uneventful day, arriving at the Shire about 10:00 AM.
That is when her adventure began. The key I gave her would not work the lock. After numerous tries, she went to Max Caffe where she hung out for a while. When that got old, she came and sat in the lobby.
Ryan observed her plight on Facebook. He called James Porter. Tricia and James talked and made arrangements for him to meet her with a key. About 7:30, Tricia entered the Shire. I got in shortly thereafter.
An interesting day. A day of minor inconveniences. A day to remember our privileges. A day to give thanks for friends: Sara and John, Ryan and James. It is a blessing to have a community.
Jules offered amazing support as well while I was stuck in Louisville.
Of course he may have wanted my pizza.
See you along the Trail.
That’s vegetarian stuffing.
I heard the words over the soft, smooshing plop the big scoop of stuffing made as it landed on my plate.
That’s vegetarian stuffing.
That certainly explained all the green stuff among the bread.
That’s vegetarian stuffing. The two over here are oyster.
Vegetarian stuffing? As in filled with vegetables. With no oysters. My mind spun quickly as I pondered my options.
“Vegetarian?” I said.
Vegetarian. And oyster over here.
“Really? Vegetarian?”
Really. You look like it does not excite you.
I recalled a moment at a buffet involving a friend of my grandmother, pickled pig’s feet placed unwanted on a plate, and a subtle return to the buffet table to replace them in the serving dish.
“It would not be my first choice. Especially with the oyster option,” I moved the plate toward the pan as I spoke.
Go ahead. You can put it back.
I quickly scrapped the vegetarian stuffing back into the pan. And even more quickly moved to the oyster stuffing and filled the now empty spot on my plate.
As I did, a new definition flitted across my mind:
Home is where you can put the food back with everyone watching and no one will criticize you.
Silently giving thanks for having options in a world where so many do not, I went in search of more food. As I did, I heard the repeated explanation:
That’s vegetarian stuffing.
See you along the Trail.
Fire races
from his hip to his knee;
his shoulder
stiffens and throbs;
yet both pains,
all pains,
pale against
the strangling grief
that crushes
life and joy
from his heart.
3:10 AM
23 November 2013
Shire on the Hudson
Manhattan, New York
