Fear is Not the Only Force

Here is the poem that I wrote last year for this date.  I still believe what it says, and I hope that we have moved closer to understanding.

Remember that fear is not the only force at work in the world today.

All of it.
The hate that those people had for our nation.
The hate that my fellow countrymen have for the religon that has been tried, and convicted in the court of public opinion.
My heart has been changed.
My heart wants the same forgiveness that God had for our whole world.
Now my heart breaks more for the ignorant hate that seems to have invaded our politics, our schools, and our religions around the world.
Won't you pray for them too? My daily struggle is to hope that the same forgivness that I have found in my religion can be found in the hearts of our brothers and sisters around the world.

It's Going to be Great!

Have a mentioned that I am going to be a great-aunt?  

Lacey and Jason Lee are going to be having a boy very soon.  I am excited to be planning some baby centered knitting projects.

Jason & Lacey

"Heather", you say, "I don't think that you're old enough to be a great aunt."  Well this, my friend, is not the case.  Here is the break down of the family tree.

• I am married to James. 
• James is about 7 years older than me. 
• James has a sister, Sherri. 
• Sherri is about 16 years older than James. 
• This makes Sherri about 22 years older than me, and the same age as my mother.  By the way, this isn't weird at all (note sarcasm). 
• Sherri's kids are only slightly younger than me, and are both newly weds.
• Stacy is Sherri's youngset and was just married in June to a great guy named Jason.
• Sherri's oldest, his name is also Jason, is married to Lacey.
• We have to use last names in this group!  It can get confusing, and with my mother-in-law's hearing problems...well, don't get me started!
• Jason and Lacey are going to be parents soon, making James and me Great Uncle and Aunt. 

Caleb and my sister (just kidding, Meg!)

I love being an aunt.  Caleb is the coolest kid, but he lives in Virginia, and I don't get to see him very often.  I think that being a great aunt to a great nephew will be great, but only based on my aunt experience with Caleb, the nephew.

Old Soul

"You have an old soul."  What does that mean?  Is it a compliment?  What makes someone think that about a person?


A few weeks ago, as the Friday afternoon was winding down at work, I was asked about my weekend plans.  I said that I was going to be going to a couple friends’ wedding anniversary party.  It was their 50^th anniversary party.  I am 31 years old.  John and Betty are in their 70’s, and I honestly call them friend.  At the moment that I was telling about the 50^th wedding anniversary party I was tickled that my co-workers didn’t think it was weird that I was friends with people that were so superior to me in age.  In fact, the very next weekend I went to another friend’s birthday party.  She turned 64.

When I think about the cast that I call friends, it is diverse in age.  The group of friends includes people that are several years my junior, many that are in the same peer group as my parents, and yet still a fair number that are contemporaries of my grandparents. 

I am very involved in a church that is muti-generational, and perhaps this is one reason for this group of friends.  Maybe another reason that my posse is this way could be the group of caregivers my mother chose for me as a child.  I spent a lot of time with my grandparents growing up.  Many weekends were spent in a tent in the formal living room on Coral Ridge Circle.  (I know that sounds weird, but hey I had fun.)  I remember two women that lived in the apartment complex where we (my mom and I until 10th grade) resided.  If I ever forgot my key I was always welcome to stay at their house until my mother arrived from work.  The secret is now out that sometimes I had my key when I ended up at their place.

When I pointed out to my co-workers the fact that I was attending the 50^th wedding anniversary party, and that they didn’t make a comment or blink an eye Tamara offered, “It’s because you are an old soul.” 

I don’t know what that means, but I like the descriptor

How Did They Know?

For the past few years I have been given the amazing task to teach the Confirmation class at Saint John's UMC.  I have seen two classes of sixth grade students confirm their baptisms, and be welcomed as members in their own right to our church.

Many Sunday's are challenging for me.  I want to give these students a gift that I was so lucky to have been given, and I sometimes forget that they are only eleven.

This past Sunday was one of the weeks that makes my work worth it.  This week's lesson was about Communion. We were all sharing about the different ways that we have seen communion being done or how we have taken it before. I shared with them a story that a mentor of mine, John Anderson, shared with us in my adult Bible study a few weeks ago. I was telling them about a group of WWII POW's that went through the motion of taking the elements and saying the words of the last supper without actually having the elements present. I told them that after the POW's release they talked about how this act gave them a little peace during their trying ordeal. I was trying to convey to them that God is immanent and really with us always, and to that it's important to do certain things in a very deliberate manner to remind us of that fact.

One of my students asked a very important question about his story... How did they (the POW's) know that it was the beginning of the month?

I thought about this question all day, my immediate answer was that at our church we take communion once a month, and that its not ONLY allowed at the beginning of the month. 
 
I forwarded this story to several folks that I depend on for guidance and for strength in my own faith journey to see what their thoughts were.
 
Here are a few responses:
 
From Sheri Jones:
 
Dear one,

     Does it matter what day of the week or what week of the month? I assume they just took it when they felt the need. Personally, I would like to take it every Sunday.


Faith, Hope, Love, and Joy,
Sheri

From Paul Escamilla:
     My goodness, Heather--this is a good question. You must have a very bright

group...!
     I'm thinking the question is related to the fact that "the beginning of the
month" is when many modern Protestants (including most United Methodists)
generally observe Holy Communion in Sunday worship, right?
     Monthly communion is a fairly modern invention. In mainstream Christendom,
weekly gatherings generally included the eucharist, or communion, from the
very beginnings of the Christian community until around the 18th century,
when on the North American continent the burgeoning frontier churches were
too thin on clergy to have regular observances of the sacrament.
     Wesley, for example, often received communion daily, and sometimes even more
frequently.
     So . . . those who needed to be assured of the presence of God through their
ordeal in prison camps were able to summon that assurance whenever needed,
just as communion can be celebrated in any context, at any time. And, yes,
as you say, these rituals have meanings far beyond our ability to quantify
them, including reminding us of the constant, nourishing presence of God in
our midst, and in our very being.
     Make sense? ...
Paul

From John Anderson:
     Heather-- I cannot add anything to Pastor Paul's total explanation and

observation. And thank you, for remembering my Emmaus story about the
POW's--what a dynamic church family we are blessed to have!! John


From Georjean Blanton:
     Heather,

I have little to add to what Paul wrote. It might be a teaching moment for them about communion as one of the "means of grace", as John Wesley called them.


Georjean

 It does make sense to me that the mystery of God cannot be quantified, and his power is limitless.

Never Burn a Bridge

This Thanksgiving will the three year mark since I was laid off (the first time).  The decision was business, and I understand that in my head.  In my heart I had a lot of emotion.  I have written a lot about it here.

I am not sure where I learned it (probably from Eva Jordan) that you should never burn a bridge.  You just never know when you will need it. 

When I think about this idiom I imagine a narrow rope and wood plank bridge stretched accross a very high canyon.  I don't really fear a "fire" but rather the ends of said rope and wood plank bridge giving out, or being cut.

For the past five months I have been back to work for the company that let me go almost three years ago.    I have been working in a "temporary" capacity until now.  On Friday, I will start in my "permanant" capacity.  I kind of laugh at the notion of being a "permanant" employee because I have been "permanant" before, so really what does that mean?

I could say that they wanted me back because I am Pretty & Smart, but that is not the whole story.  Five months ago a friend that I worked with in my previous engagement here said that I was looking for a job.  I got on because when I left, I left with grace and kept my hard feelings to myself, and to those who would not use them against me (ego kind of stuff).  I didn't burn, or cut down that bridge.

I am in an office that I really like, and working with a great group.  I am glad that I am here, and glad that I can rest my mind for a little while.  Can't rest on your laurels either!

Read the Blog

When the JorMats left the country I was put into a position that I had not been in before. I have been put in a lot of these different spaces, but the one that still stands out to me now 4 months later is the question, "How are your parents." I have heard many variations, "How are the folks?", "Where are they now?", "When are they coming home?"

I have been the JorMat's daughter for about 30 years now, and I am not used to being asked about my parents so many times. 

I give this post in jest because what they are doing is so wonderful. I am so glad that they are able to get to do go on a world wide adventure. They are really a minority. They have a lot to be envied for.

How am I?  In the past four months James and I have increased our fold by 2 dogs and 5 cats. I have had to figure out how to the get the electricity turned back on after a bird ran into the transformer. The fridge died, and I din't know what to do about that!  We now have a water leak that is slowly turning the front yard into the Elroy Bayou. 

There is a lot to do at our house.  There are sooooo many lives to take care of.  James and I are busy becoming stronger partners for each other.

Ask me.  Ask me how they are.

They are Pretty & Smart.  Read the JorMat blog--Mom gives better details than I can.  I am sure a book will be written too, and as soon as I have the information on that I will pass it along. 

By the way, I am Pretty & Smart too.  I am busy building character, and lengthening the apron strings.  Thanks for asking.

And the Next Day, and the Next.

This past weekend was the 9th anniversary of that fateful & tragic day in September.

Life does move on, doesn't it? I know that that day for my generation has been likened to assasinations of great leaders, and presidents from our parent's generation. I know that I have not forgotten about it, but the event has moved further to the back of my mind as the years have multiplied.

I was in the last semester of my junior year. (I only had two- I had three semesters as a senior, but that is a different post.) I was in class. I was taking a marketing class, when the professor came in to tell us what had happened. After class the whole business department gathered in the lobby of the building to watch as the second plane crash.

These were the days before this girl owned a cell phone, and you should have seen how many messages were on my machine when I got home! My mother had been sent home from her state government job, and had called about 15 times to check on me. My dad had called a few times too. We just didn't know what was going on, or what to expect next.

Dinner with friends followed. We all wanted to be comforted. I am not sure how we were able to get anything in with them hanging on the floor. Then the next day, then the next day, then the next. 9 years later the next day and the next.

Saturday morning, while trying my best to coif my hair to perfection, and listening to the news on my local NPR station I was turned to tears.

Still unable to wrap by brain around what really happened. Still trying to understand how there can be so much hate towards my culture. I am still troubled by all of it.

All of it.
The hate that those people had for our nation.
The hate that my fellow countrymen have for the religon that has been tried, and convicted in the court of public opinion.
My heart has been changed.
My heart wants the same forgiveness that God had for our whole world.
Now my heart breaks more for the ignorant hate that seems to have invaded our politics, our schools, and our religions around the world.
Won't you pray for them too? My daily struggle is to hope that the same forgivness that I have found in my religion can be found in the hearts of our brothers and sisters around the world.

God's Speed.