Singing with The Saints

August  14, 2018

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." ~ James 1:27

I’ve been visiting one nursing home or another on a weekly basis for 25 years.  I’m not as passionate and skilled at nursing home ministry as several of my colleagues.  I don’t list the practice as one of my top 3 things to do.  But I know how important it is.  And that is always reinforced when I return from a visit.

Different facilities ask for different services.  Sometimes its communion.  Sometimes it’s room to room visitation.  Sometimes it’s bringing children to sing.  Sometimes it’s bringing activities for the residents.  Right now I am sharing a brief devotion and then singing hymns. 

The hymn singing is the best.  Most of the residents are present in the facility I currently serve because their mental or physical capacity has left them in a place where they are no longer self-sufficient.  Not all of them.  There are a good handful who could run the joint.  But many of them struggle to create new memories.  Which means that I am new to them nearly every week.  Our procedure is new.  Our work together is new.  Which means I will answer the same questions each week:

Are you a pastor? Yes!  Is it unusual for you to see a female pastor?

Where is your church? The Bridge.  Yes, it’s new.  No ma’am, I don’t think you’ve been there before.

Will this take long? I’ll be done in 30 minutes.  Do you have an appointment? I’ll get you to lunch on time, I promise!

They almost never share prayer requests.  And I wonder if it is because there are too many to mention, or because they simply don’t hold such things in memory anymore.

The devotion can only last about 9 minutes.  Any longer, and they have forgotten the opening story. 

I hand everyone a hymnal.  They tell me they can’t see.  They tell me they can’t sing.  I ask them their favorites.  They tell me they don’t remember.

So I choose.  I ask, “Do you know (….)?” Noooooo…don’t remember that.

And I tap play.  And they sing. 

                                            They sing all the verses. 

                                                                          They sing in harmony.

                                                                                                         They sing the chorus with gusto. 

I’m not a neurologist or neuro scientist.  But you don’t have to be brain surgeon to know that music resides in the place of the brain that can’t be dimmed.  And music opens up channels in the brain unlike anything else. 

Like schools, I wouldn't suggest showing up at an assisted care or nursing care home with your guitar and start a sing-a-long.  Most facilities have amazing and dedicated individuals who work long and probably thank-less hours to plan activities that will provide community engagement for the residents.  Any of them would love a phone call from you to ask how you can serve the community.  A few ideas: find out which residents rarely receive visitors and ask if you can gain permission to visit occasionally.  Write cards to the residents...some can't see to read much anymore, but cards with pretty pictures are always displayed on the wall!  Find out if your church or civic organization volunteers at a local facility.  If so, join them.  If not, begin.  Ask the coordinator what is needed.  Listen.  Do that. 

After three songs she called out, “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior.”  The memories were flowing.  I located the page number and some of them turned to it, but it was unnecessary.  The lyrics flowed as prayer.

1. Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
   Hear my humble cry;
   While on others Thou art calling,
   Do not pass me by.
   • Refrain:
     Savior, Savior,
     Hear my humble cry,
     While on others Thou art calling,
     Do not pass me by.
2. Let me at Thy throne of mercy
   Find a sweet relief;
   Kneeling there in deep contrition,
   Help my unbelief.
3. Trusting only in Thy merit,
   Would I seek Thy face;
   Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
   Save me by Thy grace.
4. Thou the spring of all my comfort,
   More than life to me,
   Whom have I on earth beside Thee,
   Whom in Heav’n but Thee.
5. Amen.
6. Amen.

A Season For Everything

August 7, 2018

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live;" ~ Ecclesiastes 3:11-12

“Did you manage to participate without volunteering?” It wasn’t his first question, but it was his second.  (Did you have fun? was first)  He knows how often I say yes.  Maybe he doesn’t realize how often I say no!  There are a lot of needs in the world.  One of the things I am often asked as I counsel others is how to say no.  Ironic.  But I suppose I have a great deal of empathy for those who struggle to say no.  I’ve had to learn the skill.  I’ve had to also learn the healthy work of not feeling guilty when I say no.  I’ve had to learn my ‘why’.  Why I say yes.  Why I say no.  Then it is easier to judge to what and when to say yes.

So how does not serving end up in a blog about service?  Because we can’t do it all. 

But that’s not to say that the event was purpose-less.  And maybe that’s clearer when you attach the aforementioned “why.”  Why am I here?  Why did I choose to show up for this event?

I was at the bowling alley with my youngest son.  As a child with Down Syndrome, he is eligible to participate with a wonderful group called The Dream Program.  They find community activities for kids and adults with special needs: bowling, football, canoeing, basketball, horse-back riding, painting…it’s pretty incredible!  I registered him online, we showed up at the bowling alley, and some very friendly people gave us a spot on their lane.  By total coincidence he ended up on a lane next to his best buddy from school.  So the night went really well.  We were asked if we wanted to sign up for the other activities, but we declined.  Just bowling for now.

Over the years I have volunteered among this community.  I’ve participated in Buddy Walk.  I assisted with the start-up of a LLC to provide necessary therapies to special needs children without the ability to pay for them.  I’ve served on the Mississippi United Methodist Disability Ministries committee.  In each case, I said ‘yes’ to someone’s request to help, to serve, to lend a hand.  Sometimes the work was simple, and sometimes it was overwhelming.  In every case, I have closed the folders on those opportunities.

Why?

That’s the right question!

Am I passionate about programs and ministries that advocate for individuals with special needs?  Uhm.  Yes.  Am I well-positioned to articulate the unique needs a family has when living with a disabled family members?      
So. Much. To. Say.     
So why is this not an area of service for me right now?

Well, the answer to my question, “why am I here,” is a good start.  I’m here to be his mom.  Some days I’m an advocate.  Some days I’m a counselor.  Some days I’m a voice crying out.  But on this day he just wants me to sit beside him at the little table next to the lane and buy him chicken nuggets from the café. 

Some days it’s ok to receive from the heroes and servants in the community.  I don’t really know the personal “why” for all the people who helped us bowl this week.  I can guess.  Maybe one day I’ll ask.  But for now I’m just going to remind him to roll, not throw, the bowling ball…and get more ketchup. 

If you love someone with special needs and would like to know more about advocacy groups, here are a few links:
Gulf Coast Down Syndrome Society
The Dream Program
The Arc of Mississippi
Bright Beginnings: A First Steps Partner
DisAbility Ministries Committee of the United Methodist Church
Abbie Rogers Civitan Camp

The School Serve

July 31, 2018

"Instruct the wise and they will be wiser still; teach the righteous and they will add to their learning." ~ Proverbs 9:9

Volunteering at school has been the easiest place to plug in.  No matter what community we have lived in, no matter what grade the kids are in school, no matter how big or small the school is, parents are needed.  Serving at school feels a little selfish to me, actually.  Mostly I’m there to snoop on my kids.  

Yeah, I’m totally supposed to be wandering down this hallway!  

It’s also beneficial for school staff to meet me when I’m Mama Llama (chill, no drama) instead of Mama Bear (she said what????!!!?). 

Usually the task is feeding children.  

Parties. 

Reward days.  

Field trips.  

Game day. 

Practices.  

“Can someone bring 4,082 finger sandwiches to feed a small (and ravenous) army? Thanks!” 

There was this one time that I thought I could channel some other Pinterest mom.  I saw the cutest little Halloween treats: oranges that had been cored and cut like tiny little jack-o-lanterns and then filled with chocolate pudding, and bananas that were dipped in white chocolate and decorated with mini chocolate chips to look like ghosts.  It’s when you are making such cute items that you realize over-crowding in classrooms is a real issue.  

Me to teacher: How many students are in J’s class? 

Teacher: 28 

Me: *silence*…because I’m thinking I was planning to make less than 20.  

Me: Do you think they will all be there?  

The ghostly bananas didn’t make it.  Mama Llama went to sleep sometime around 9pm leaving Mama Zombie alone with those poor ghosts.  But the pumpkin shaped oranges got made.  There needed to be a warning on the instructions that said something like: 

WARNING: the use of tiny objects to cut 90 tiny triangles into 30 tiny oranges will destroy the use of your hands for anything purposeful for the next 3 days. 

I was so stinkin’ proud of the oranges.  Especially after the demise of the bananas.  I brought them to class.  I had really prepared myself by practicing my humble reception of all the compliments, the need to walk them to other classrooms for others to see, the exclamation of the other kids when they saw how awesome J’s mom was... 

  The second graders were in recess when I brought to the room, so it was actually a bit of let down.  I stuck them on the table with all the other treats.  Some moms had done some pretty cute things with pretzels and rice krispies.  But chocolate pudding filled orange jack-o-lanterns were singularly unique, healthy-(er), and SO CUTE.  I lingered for as long as I could without making the other teachers nervous, hoping they would come back in and I could take credit for all of J’s friends who would be enamored of the adorable and tasty treat.  But alas.  They were at the longest recess of school history.  So I left them there.  I had to wait out the rest of the day, but finally the bus rolled to a stop in front of the house and his big toothy grin met my smile. 

  “Hey! How was the party?” 

“It was great!  Can I go play with Nathan?” 

  “Yeah, in a minute.  Were there cool snacks?”  

“Yeah, we got to eat candy!!  Can I wear my costume to Nathan’s house?”  

(This was not going at all like expected).  

“Did you see the little mini-jack-o-lanterns I brought?” 

*silence* 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

Now, I’m assuming that some other parent or teacher has stolen them, taken them to their room because they lacked enough cute treats.  But I doubled down, just to be sure.  “I brought a bunch of oranges cut to look like jack-o-lanterns filled with chocolate pudding.  Did you eat those?” 

“What’s a jackalantern?” 

“Like pumpkin faces, only they were oranges.” 

  “Oh yeah.  Those were gross.  Can I go to Nathan’s now?”

 Sigh.  Why am I doing this again?

When kiddo #4 had Halloween party number #73, I had learned my lesson.  Rice Krispie treats with orange icing is two thumbs up.  And kudos to the mom who pulled off the ghost bananas.  I loved them, even if the kids didn’t.

This past week I brought lunch to the high school show choir team during their boot camp week.  I did the real super mom thing: I picked up Chickfila that had been previously ordered and delivered it to students who were waiting outside.  Then I snuck in the door and wandered down the hall.  This place…where my kids spend most of their waking hours.  I still get lost here.  Do they?  I see some teachers’ names on doors I recognize, but many I don’t.  I see evidence of a custodial staff who probably works many hours for not enough pay to keep the building from looking (and smelling) like my son’s bedroom.  I try to imagine them moving in the flow of hundreds of other teens.  I try not to imagine the potential dangers that may lurk these halls. I whisper prayers for protection, for patience, for favor.  I make it to the practice room and I hear the instructions being given to the kids.  It sounds like a lot of hard work.  A girl who is late to practice rushes past me and pushes open the practice door and I take advantage of her entrance to go all the way in.  They are working hard.  Suddenly I wish I had more than Chickfila to give them.  The kids see me and recognize me. 

“Hey mom!” several of the kids shout!  “Did you bring us something?”

  “I brought my admiration!” I quip to them.  The teacher waves me over, asks if I can help with one more thing.  

“Of course!”

  She thinks I’m serving. 

She thinks I’m somehow sacrificing time in my day to help her.  And maybe I am.  But more than likely I am just soaking up the love that simple acts of kindness bring our way.  

“Yes,” I say, “Tuesday is my ‘serve day’.  Any Tuesday that I can help, I want to.  Let me know what you need.”

  She acts like that’s a huge gift.  It’s not.  What she does is the gift.  I’m just crashing the party and enjoying the fun. 

Did you know that you don’t have to have kids in school to volunteer at your local school?  Now, you can’t just show up and walk into a classroom…to many weird school happenings in recent years.  But you can go to your neighborhood school office and tell them you would like to volunteer.  There are days to read to kids, field days that need water station hosts, test days that need proctors.  Most elementary schools have learning labs where at-risk students require one-on-one tutoring and you can volunteer to work with a student each week in that setting.  Booster clubs need supporters, athletes need fans, and our communities need light.  No chocolate-filled jack-o-lantern oranges required.

Improving My Serve

July 24, 2018

"Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies--in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ." ~ 1 Peter 4:8-11

 I played tennis in 8th and 9^th grade.  I wasn’t great at it (which is why I quit after 9^th grade) but I wasn’t terrible either.  I was quick, I had decent stamina, and I was fairly accurate with my shots. I could return the ball, but I couldn’t outplay my opponent. I was timid, and I lacked a power shot.  Or, at least I lacked a consistent power shot.  I can actually remember a handful of practices and games in which I really sliced the ball or smashed a serve.  I can remember them because it happened so rarely.  My coach, our beloved Coach Hull, would shout in his N’awlins drawl, “Dat was it dahlin’.  Now do dat again!”  But I rarely could repeat the action.  Never consistent with the power serve.  I got the serve in the box.  I knew how to accurately put the ball in play.  But I didn’t ace the serve.

       

          Over the next several weeks I am going to attempt some vulnerability.  I want to work on my serve.  Not my tennis serve.  I don’t have time to pick up tennis these days (although I am considering another running another half).  I’m thinking about my community serve, my witness, my offering as part of the human race to make things a little better in this world.  I want to strengthen my serve.  

“Aren’t you a pastor?” Yes.  

Which brings the vulnerable part.  There are lots of things I like to do that are “service” oriented.  But it’s easy to let the duties of pastor take the place of real service.  So when I hear the people of my parish say, “I’m so busy…”  I totally get it.  My hope is that by regularly updating you on where I’m serving, you might find a spark to some passion you’ve been pocketing for too long.  I also hope to make myself accountable.  If I have to talk about this weekly, then I’m more likely to do something…anything…weekly.  So, it will be kind of like a volley. 

And that brings me to the something.  Over the years, I have engaged lots of avenues of serving.  As a teen I went to the nursing home down the street from my high school every Monday after school to participate in a communion service provided by the diocese.  I would sometimes accompany the residents back to their rooms and read to them.  Every summer I would help with our church’s Vacation Bible School and nearly every summer from 10^th grade through college I went on a short-term mission trip to help with a Vacation Bible School some other place.  In Seminary I was the pastor’s wife, so it was hard to tell what was volunteer and what was just helping my husband not be crazy.  But I started to teach English as a Second Language to students at the seminary who were struggling.  Colleges in the area started paying me to do that, and it got blurry again: is this service or is this work, because I’m helping people, but I’m getting paid.  Then I found myself as the clergy person married to another clergy person parenting four children serving some pretty large churches.  Volunteer work became more associated with baking Halloween treats, reading to first graders, and making dinners for the Jr. High football team. 

Over the years, service and volunteerism have really been as opportunity presented.  I have honed skills around preaching, church leadership and pastoral counselling, but I haven’t worked on my service skills in quite a while.  I serve…some.  But it’s a timid serve.  It lacks a power, a drive, an ambition that zips through sluggish selfish me thoughts to land mightily in someone else’s court announcing the Kingdom of God.  I preach the Good News that Kingdom of God has broken in upon the earth every Sunday morning.  But I want to lead my parish in living the Good News.  I want to serve up Gospel in our schools, our shelters, our prisons, our nursing homes, on our sidewalks, at our parks, and in our neighborhoods.  And I want to hear Coach say, “That’s good dahlin! Now, do it again!”