tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43447432328240131802024-02-07T17:32:06.413-08:00Deacon Calling. . . I've never felt so much aliveOne woman's journey into the deacon-hood of the Episcopal Church.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-59334226380242369362010-05-06T17:35:00.000-07:002010-05-06T17:35:42.934-07:00The Gift of Peace<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27</span><br />
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This is one of my favorite Bible passages. Jesus is giving final instructions to his disciples the night before he is arrested and lead to his death. He is reminding them that he will die and come back, and he knows they are going to face some rough days ahead. <br />
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This verse is in the Gospel reading this coming Sunday, and we talked about it in Bible study this week. When I told our group this is a meaningful verse for me, Fr. Charlie asked me why. The reason isn't so much that Jesus is giving peace, an inner peace that heals and gives us strength, it's that he gives it NOT AS THE WORLD GIVES.<br />
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That passage gets me. When I think about how the world gives, a lot of things come to mind. There are presents, like the Tiffany boxes above, that we expect on special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. But Jesus gives his gift of peace at a time when the disciples are not really ready for it. They have had an interesting night of having their feet washed by their leader, been told that people in their own group will deny they know Jesus and even turn against him. I'm not sure they're in the best mind-set for this gift, as much as they may need it. Are we ready to accept the peace Jesus gives us, that w3e already have inside at the times we need it most?<br />
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Then there are the gifts that are given with the expectation of reciprocation. My mom wouldn't let me accept expensive gifts from boys when I was in high school. She had good reason for that. Sometimes it happens at work when someone "helps" take a shift or work on a project with the understanding that the help will mean a day off later. But Jesus didn't expect his followers, or any of us, to give him something in return. What could they, or we, possibly give in return?<br />
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There are also the supposed gifts that we have to give back. Emily Post tells all brides who don't go through with their weddings that they should return the ring and any gifts, unless the ring was given as a birthday or holiday gift, but even then, it's tacky to keep it. There are the uncomfortable times we might be given something that we <em>thought</em> was gift, only to be asked to return it. Jesus' peace is always with us; there's no way to return it, and I don't think he'd want it back.<br />
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Probably the biggest way I see what are called "gifts" in our modern world is in the area of commerce. We get money for work, give that money in exchange for food and clothes and DVDs and phone service. We get discounts for being loyal shoppers, or for being thrifty. Even some of the items we pay for are like gifts. My massage therapist's work on my shoulders is a gift, but I pay her. "Nothing in life is free," is a cliche, but it rings true in our world. But that is exactly what Jesus meant when he said NOT AS THE WORLD GIVES. There is no exchange here. No amount of money, or work, or volunteering, or anything, will buy this peace. There is nothing we can exchange for it. <br />
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It's hard to wrap my head around this verse. "My peace I give to you; my peace I leave with you." This isn't just any peace. It's not a greeting from Sunday services. It's not a wave of two fingers, or a circle with a bird foot thingy in it. It's not an image or a word at all. It is an all-encompassing feeling of inner wellness and calm and love. It's Jesus' presence in our very selves. He gave it to us. He left it in safekeeping with us. <br />
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He doesn't expect anything in return. There is no blushing and saying, "Oh you shouldn't have. I can't accept this." It's not returnable, and not exchangeable. It's already in us. It's the right size. It's the perfect color. It may not be wrapped up, but sometimes we have to look for it a little, like its hidden. But it's there. All we have to do is open ourselves to it. We are part of the gift, after all.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-8707212458875819172010-04-30T06:24:00.000-07:002010-04-30T15:00:37.031-07:00April was National Poetry MonthI keep a lot of the parts of my life pretty separate. I teach, and I have a work account and webpages that I use to communicate with students and colleagues. For church, I have this blog and an email account, which I also use for family and friends. I'm a poet, and I have a separate email and webpage for that. This past month has been National Poetry Month, and I helped plan a whole bunch of events at school for students and faculty. And I've been writing a brand-new poem every day all month. They haven't all been good, and all of them will need either to be revised or just forgotten. But, since it's the last day of the month, I'll post one of the new ones here. Several of the poems I have written this month relate to the Bible study I've been doing every week at church, or to the season of Lent and Easter. This was one of them. <br />
<br />
Lazarus<br />
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He did not face death alone.<br />
His last sight of his beloved sisters' faces<br />
the crows feet around their green eyes, <br />
their dark hair braided--<br />
his last breath inhaled into their chests<br />
still connected to them. <br />
His naked body feather light under their touch<br />
as they bathed him, perfumed him,<br />
wrapped him in the ivory linen.<br />
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Imagine his surprise!<br />
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His eyes flitting open in the cave,<br />
feeling the cold<br />
around his warming skin<br />
the hard stone under his shoulder blades.<br />
The pain not just vanished<br />
but the feeling of a new heartbeat<br />
the stale air of the cave swirling<br />
in the clean pockets of his lungs. <br />
To get up and walk was nothing. <br />
For the rest of his life<br />
he would dance.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-39213186968085673292010-04-28T14:22:00.000-07:002010-04-28T19:15:20.843-07:00AZ SB1070<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYmAE1WMbsCF7E-ej-Sls-auk5OAa4MD0DJMcnC5DrpK7Je7yTR1m4F5ACPcjv7PsqrdDp_7X3haUzZAcR3COIAATcQu5Bb3ELigz1KxM3eEyvPC6QKLYwde6LG1zbhzOOiK7G5kEBaw/s1600/immigrants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYmAE1WMbsCF7E-ej-Sls-auk5OAa4MD0DJMcnC5DrpK7Je7yTR1m4F5ACPcjv7PsqrdDp_7X3haUzZAcR3COIAATcQu5Bb3ELigz1KxM3eEyvPC6QKLYwde6LG1zbhzOOiK7G5kEBaw/s320/immigrants.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like most Americans, my family came from other countries. On my mother's side, from England and Eastern Europe. On my dad's, from Germany, and from Mexico. When some of them came, there was no such thing as legal or illegal immigrants. You just got a ticket and came, or in my Mexican grandmother's case, land changed hands, and people went from being Spanish to being Americans. Family was spread on both sides of the borders, and people traveled on both sides, speaking two languages. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't look Hispanic. My dad does, a little. With Arizona's new <a href="http://www.azleg.gov/legtext/49leg/2r/bills/sb1070s.pdf">SB10170</a>, which will allow police to stop people they "reasonably suspect" of being illegal immigrants, and prosecuting them. Being able arrest illegal immigrants isn't new. What is, is that all it takes to be stopped and asked for id, is for the police to think a person might not be legal by the way that person looks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The governor says that police will not racially profile the people they stop. But I wonder who will be stopped? Will I when I go to visit my Dad in Tucson? Probably not. I'm too pale, and I don't speak Spanish. But I think about some of the people I grew up with, people who do look more Hispanic, who have Spanish names, who are bi-lingual. What if they forget their id when they go to a festival downtown? This reminds me of other times in history when groups of people were designated as suspicious and asked to carry identification papers proving they were who they said they were. I saw some pictures of protesters on Flickr, one of a person carrying a sign calling the governor a "Nazi." I'm wary of name-calling, and of using powerful language like that, but really, I can see where someone would feel the need to say that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a college professor, my closest issue with illegal immigration is education. I struggle with who is to blame when kids get to be college-age and can't go because their parents brought them here when they were very young, but they never became citizens. They have great grades, perfect English, and no way to get financial aid. They almost never blame their parents, not in the stories I read or the interviews I hear. They get angry that they have to go to Mexico to go to college, and the schools aren't as good as ours. Or they have to go back to a country they have never lived in and apply for student visas, then explain why they have U.S. high school diplomas. The kids had no choice in where they grew up, but they are mad at our government for not accepting them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm mad at my government too. For decades we've looked the other way with illegal immigration as opportunity dwindled in Mexico and grew like dandelions here. Why haven't we done something to change immigration rules, or stop it, or give amnesty, or something? Anything?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Part of what's missing from discussion about illegal immigration is the reasoning behind it. What would cause people to risk their lives, spend all their hard-earned savings, and put their lives into the hands of smugglers who will force them to walk miles without water, to stand in vans without air circulation or a way to relieve themselves for hours, to hide in trunks or undercarriages, or wherever they can. They leave their families for a chance at making enough money to pay rent and feed themselves, and send money home. These people live more or less in hiding, trying not to break any additional laws so they can keep working. The few who do commit crimes are held up as the standard of their community. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I pray that the legislation in Arizona will help our national government to bring up immigration reform. I pray that Mexico and South American countries will be able to revive their economies and schools and governments so that people aren't compelled to leave their homelands. I pray that the people of the U.S. can be empathetic to the plight of people who come here illegally, and that whatever their feeling about immigration are, that they don't fall into the trap of hate and racism. </div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-59099493746763700412010-04-16T10:44:00.000-07:002010-04-16T10:44:49.316-07:00MinisteringIt's getting close to the end of my semester. The last day to drop is next Tuesday. Research papers are due for my 102 students next Wednesday. My 101 students only have one paper left to write. Finals are just three short weeks away. All hell is breaking loose.<br />
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My class sizes have dropped from the beginning of the semester, so I'm left with the people who are dedicated to getting their work done and completing the class. Some of them have let go of dreams of getting As and are feeling like they are earning their Bs or Cs on their papers. I'm still praying for some who dropped long ago for personal reasons or financial reasons. I have one student who will be getting an incomplete to finish her course because she broke her back in a car accident over spring break. I have another who was in tears this week when she came to meet with me. She said there shouldn't be anything to cry about. She's only taking my course and working part time. She lives at home, so she doesn't have much to worry about in the way of bills. "So why," I asked her, "are you upset?" It's the second anniversary of her sister's death. She would have been 22 this year. Her whole family is grieving again, and she's struggling to keep up with life in general. <br />
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This is a typical semester. People who don't teach might think my job is easy. I get big breaks during the summer and over holidays. I teach the same classes over and over so I know what I'm doing every semester. How bad can grading be when I only have to be in class 12 hours a week and in my office for 5? That leaves a lot of time to work on my own wherever I please. All those things are true, but I end up doing more than just teaching writing. I cajole, encourage and challenge my students. I counsel them, not just with their assignments, but with future education choices, careers, and family issues. I have had to refer them to professional counseling at times when things got really rough. <br />
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When I started my discernment for being a deacon, a friend of mine from another church asked me, "What will your ministry be?" "I'm a teacher," I said. "Oh, we'll see," was his reply, as if a teacher couldn't do enough. As a community college teacher, I am on the front lines of people who are very fragile. The kids who weren't good enough out of high school to get into, or get scholarships for, universities and 4 year colleges. The adults who didn't succeed in school and didn't go to college, only to realize years later they want or need a degree, but have doubts they will be able to do the work and finish a degree. The students who didn't get enough education in high school to get into college and now are working their way through developmental classes. And students who work full time and go to school full time and have children or parents to care for during their "free time." Teaching writing is a small, small part of my work. I am a minister.<br />
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I am reminding myself of that today as I respond to emails with my student who's at home still recovering from her back injury over a month ago. I have to remind myself of that when students don't show up when I have conference time to help them with their writing. I could choose to think they don't care about getting good grades on their last papers, that they just signed up to take extra hours at their jobs when they could have come to see me. But they have families to feed and choices to make. Money to pay for books for summer school might come at the cost of driving over to see me for five minutes making sure their grammar is perfect. <br />
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I am praying often for my students, and all students who are trying to make it to the end of the semester in one piece. I need some too, probably!Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-22591594736457535672010-04-08T17:36:00.000-07:002010-04-09T13:05:59.511-07:00Holier than Thou...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82N2NQBc0ehCAktxDTJngz7ZQWEKc0ZHLR5BcrrOudtVqP7D1Ui05nrxnj4u2xQ160S9M4i3LJQz6afbHZ2qly4V3NPD5EKE2QaB7pYhtkat8BD2FExGr2rwr-UrGoJtm7Har5UHM8OU/s1600/holier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82N2NQBc0ehCAktxDTJngz7ZQWEKc0ZHLR5BcrrOudtVqP7D1Ui05nrxnj4u2xQ160S9M4i3LJQz6afbHZ2qly4V3NPD5EKE2QaB7pYhtkat8BD2FExGr2rwr-UrGoJtm7Har5UHM8OU/s200/holier.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Paul, my husband, reads all my blog entries. He has his own blog, <a href="http://www.paul-latour.blogspot.com/">Beneath This Dirty Hood</a>, which I also read. We usually comment to each other on what we've read with little, "I liked your links," or "Nice lead," comments. He also points out my spelling errors. He's a better proofreader than I am. </div><div align="left"></div><br />
So last week, he read my Palm Sunday reflection. I came home from a meeting or get-together I had been at, and his first comment when I walked into the living room was, "You're trying to take Fr. Charlie's job, aren't you? You want to be a priest now, or something?" This led to my denying that those were my goals, and asking Paul where his inferences were coming from. "Your last blog. You didn't used to be like this."<br />
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He's right. I didn't used to be "like" I am now. We talked about how I've changed. Ever since we've met, I've gone to Episcopal churches. He was there when I was received into the church in 1995, and he remembers my teaching Sunday School at <a href="http://www.stpaulsduluth.org/">St. Paul's in Duluth</a> in the mid-1990s. I also served on a discernment committee for a friend who was seeking answers about becoming a deacon. Paul and I were married there in 1997. When we moved to Colorado, we worked on Sundays, and worked so many hours I couldn't get involved in a church. But when we moved to Texas, I got involved again at <a href="http://www.stmartins-episcopal.org/">St. Martin's</a>. And again, when we moved to Chicago-land, I tried a few churches before finding my home at <a href="http://www.trinityaurora.org/">Trinity</a>, so I had about a year away from church.<br />
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So he's always known me to be a person who goes to church and volunteers her time. Now, I'm not doing any more than I have done before. I'm on the vestry, leading Bible Study, and lectoring. That's about it other than little things here and there. So what's different? Well, I can point to when things changed with my discernment for the deaconate, but this blog has been a big change. <br />
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I've never had a pubic place to share my spiritual beliefs, reactions, and stories. And I come from a Catholic background, as does Paul, where spiritual things are not spoken of, even at home. Neither of our families, or any of our friends, talked about our prayer lives, or what we thought about sermons or readings on Sundays. We didn't go around humming hymns until Wednesday. And we certainly didn't tell everyone our inner feelings about God, the Holy Spirit, or the Eucharist. <br />
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But here I am, telling everyone looking around cyberspace, about how I feel about Jesus and Easter and everything else that comes into my heart and head. It's not that I didn't have these feelings my whole life, or while Paul and I have been together, but I just didn't talk about them. So putting those ideas and feelings into printed words is new, the ideas and feelings aren't. <br />
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I told Fr. Charlie about Paul's reaction, that I might be taking over his job. He asked if that might be a sign for me to be thinking again about Holy Orders. I don't know. I'm feeling good where I'm at. I feel closer to the Bible since I've had regular Bible Study this year, but it's only been a few months. I feel like I'm finding my way into serving without burning out, which is also good. I don't know. I can say that it is something that I continue to pray about, that I continue to talk to my mentors about. We'll see where the spirit leads.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-58340084647286365572010-04-01T12:17:00.000-07:002010-04-01T12:17:24.394-07:00A poem for EasterEaster Wings by George Herbert <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Though foolishly he lost the same, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Decaying more and more, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Till he became </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Most poore: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">With thee </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">O let me rise </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As larks, harmoniously, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And sing this day thy victories: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then shall the fall further the flight in me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My tender age in sorrow did beginne </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And still with sicknesses and shame. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thou didst so punish sinne, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That I became </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Most thinne. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">With thee </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let me combine, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And feel thy victorie: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For, if I imp my wing on thine, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Affliction shall advance the flight in me. </div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-48438451362153111392010-03-29T08:26:00.000-07:002010-03-29T08:26:52.766-07:00Would you take a bullet for me? Thanks!I’ve heard that question before, and I’m sure you have, too. It’s a measuring stick of how much we love someone, or something. I wouldn’t take a bullet for, say, the student who bad-mouths me in front of a class, but I would for my husband or even my dog. I’d probably want to know how badly I’d be shot. If it’s in the foot I might answer differently than if it was a direct hit in my chest. Hopefully, I’ll never be faced with having to answer this question as anything more than a hypothetical, philosophical conundrum. <br />
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But, the question came into my head this past Sunday, Palm Sunday. I got to be Jesus during our church’s reading of the Passion. I’ve been the narrator before, and the girl who questions Peter, but not Jesus. All jokes aside about my being female, I took my role seriously and actually read over the script before Sunday’s service, even though I know the plot and dialog almost by heart from all the Palm Sundays I’ve attended. Participating keeps me from drifting off hearing it again, but it also makes it more present to me. <br />
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So, as Jesus, I stood in front of the congregation as we read the play. I was figuratively given the kiss of death, questioned, questioned again, and again. I stood through the ridicule, the mocking, the dressing up, the beatings, and then through my fellow parishioners calling out, “Crucify him!” Wait, it wasn’t the parishioners, it was the “crowd” that said that. But really, Jesus stood as people who knew him, who went to worship with him, who listened to him, cried out for his death. I imagined that as I stood there in my slacks and sweater, looking back at my friends standing in the pews. Imagine them yelling out for me to be put to death because it was easier than putting up with what I had to say, because I was a rebel, because I made them uncomfortable in calling them to change their lives. <br />
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Would I go to my death for people who I knew were wrong? Would I allow myself to be humiliated and tortured for a bunch of people who wouldn’t stand up for me? For friends who abandoned me? For people I didn’t know, and who wouldn’t listen to me? I don’t think I would. But Jesus did. He took on what to me is unimaginable pain and humiliation not just for those people calling for his death, but for every generation of people who would come after them. <br />
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For Jesus, the question, “Would you take a bullet for me,” probably wouldn’t even make him blink. A bullet is quick and deadly. Death comes fast. But all that is saved is a physical life in this case. He said yes to a death that was slow, drawn out, and embarrassing, and for strangers and people who don’t like him or think what he had to say makes any sense so that they can enter Heaven and spend eternity with him.<br />
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I pray that we all have a meaningful Holy Week, and that more people come to know the man who did more than take a bullet for us to keep us physically alive. He died a terrible death so that we can die, but keep living in Him.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-17369526202914303782010-02-28T10:09:00.000-08:002010-03-06T17:06:30.993-08:00D'OH!<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/khSIYmTzt6U&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/khSIYmTzt6U&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<br />
I am not always very bright. My mom will attest to this. Critical thinking is not my forte. Heck, it's not even my three-te. <br />
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A case in point is a discussion we've been having at Trinity about developing a Spanish service and nurturing a Hispanic ministry at our church. For anyone who doesn't know. more than 1/3 of Aurora's population is Hispanic, as of the 2000 census. I grew up in the Southwest, but I never found businesses, even Mexican restaurants, where people didn't speak English in Arizona. But when I moved here, Paul and I went to a local Mexican restaurant, and the menu was in Spanish; the waitress only spoke Spanish, and we were the only table of people speaking English. So, it makes sense that our church would offer Spanish language services, given that our neighborhood is full of people who speak Spanish; we're already offer immigration services and have contact with people in the Hispanic community. <br />
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That's what someone might think. It's not the first thing that came to my mind. And it's not the first thing that came into the minds of people I spoke to about starting a new service. A lot of us were pretty defensive and had a lot of questions. Who would run the service? Our priest doesn't speak Spanish. If we have another priest come in and do the service, would we have to pay him? Well, he'd volunteer at first. What about other costs? Wine and bread, bulletins, prayerbooks, musicians? And how would these new folks blend in with the rest of the congregation? And what happens if there get to be so many Spanish speakers that the current congregation gets squished out? What then???<br />
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It might seem that we jumped to some apocalyptic thinking, but the UNKNOWN can do that. We don't know all that might happen. It could be that we'd give it a shot, and it would fizzle. That happened when in the 1980s the priest tried offering Spanish services. So a meeting was arranged in February for members of Trinity and the other Episcopal church in Aurora, St. David's, to meet with Rev. Pedro Lopez and Bishop Scantlebury about starting a Hispanic ministry at one of our churches. We asked questions about how this might work, what the costs might be, and were told about what a church in Elgin is like since starting a Spanish service. That service grew to two services, and now the Hispanic community is larger than the original congregation, but no one has been squished out. But the vibe the Trinity folks had was not positive. Some of us were skeptical that doing this work would sink our foundering financial ship, that we don't have the resources, that there isn't the people-power to pull it off. <br />
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I talked to several people about this late last year, and after the February meeting, I spoke to some more. I didn't get a lot of positive feedback about the idea of moving forward. Only one person said she might be interested, and then only in attending a service, not in helping getting things going. When the issue came up at our last vestry meeting in February, I retold the conversations I had had with people. It was obvious Fr. Charlie was disappointed, and he said he'd heard some very positive feedback from folks. Then another member, Rob, brought something forward. <br />
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Rob pointed out that Jesus called his followers to open their doors to people who didn't speak their language. He called them to minister to the strangers in their land. Paul went to people who weren't Jews and called them into the circle of Christ's love. Again and again in the Bible, God has His chosen leaders go to the people who are in the most need and who happen to be outsiders to the original community of God's people. Rob also said that we need to move forward with our hearts, trusting in God, not letting our rational brains take over.<br />
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I went home with Rob's words running through my head. And I thought about one of the readings we've studied in January: God calling Moses to serve His people. Moses was an outsider since he had been raised by the Egyptians, even though his genetics tied him to the enslaved Jews. We've had a lot of readings from Paul's letters, and we've talked about Paul serving Gentiles, people who weren't Jews. Before I went to bed, I prayed to God to open my heart and get me out of my head and its doubts. <br />
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I got up in the morning and had thoughts about others in the Bible we've been reading about saying, "No," to God because they thought they didn't have the right skills. God said to Jeremiah, "Do not say to me, 'I am only a child.' You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you." Isn't that what's happening here? I am telling God, "No, we don't have the resources for this new project," without trusting that if we move onto that path, He will provide what we need. By this time, I was driving to work, and said to God, "Okay, I'm getting it."<br />
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My first task at work that morning was to observe and write up an evaluation on a part-time teacher at a satellite campus of my college. The class had read an article titled "The Christian Paradox: How a Faithful Nation Gets Jesus Wrong" by Bill McKibben and they were talking about his points about Christian hypocrisy. The teacher also showed a PBS <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/october-24-2008/religion-and-americas-role-in-the-world/1174/">video</a> about an Episcopal family and their church, and the work the church and family did to fulfill God's calling to them to act as Christ would. The class had a discussion about the hypocrisy of some "believers," and how this family seemed to truly embody the idea of being a Christian. They also talked about the idea that people might do this work for personal gain in the afterlife, but that idea notwithstanding, they seemed to truly act as Christians. <br />
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I left the campus to go teach my own classes at the main campus. As I was driving, I thought about Rob's words, about the Bible lessons, and about the video and class discussion I had heard. Wasn't my own action pretty hypocritical? I claim to want to do God's work in the world, and I've even explored being a deacon, and still listen for that call. But here I was turning my back on God's people because of the possibilities it could be harmful to Trinity, and of the work I might have to do to help. I found myself saying to God, "Okay, okay! I get it! I'll change!"<br />
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But I also heard God telling me something else. It's not enough to change my mind. As a leader at Trinity, I am called to change the minds of others. I'll be challenging people to change their own minds and give this a chance. The last thing I heard God telling me is that support doesn't mean that I have to do all the work. There are people who want this and who want to work at it. It's enough at this time that I support them with prayers and a positive attitude. There might be a time when more is asked of me, but right now, this is what I need to do. <br />
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I ask this of my readers as well. Please pray for our church as we look to grow and open our hearts, buildings, and other spaces to God's people. Please pray that in your own communities, the people who need to be served are being served, even if that means doing some hard work, or being open to challenges and changes.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-82751601867114594632010-02-21T17:33:00.000-08:002010-02-21T17:33:32.356-08:00Lent, God and DogsLent is one of my favorite church seasons, probably second to Advent. There's someting about the anticipation of what's coming that's even more exciting than the final event. When I was a kid, I thought Christmas and Easter were the two best parts of being a Christian. Presents, candy, new clothes, and the decorations for both seasons were so exciting. But now that I'm grown up, the waiting is the best, not the hardest, part. <br />
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One of the things that I like about Lent is that I tend to be more in tune with my soul and with God. I do things in Lent to remind me of my blessings, and to try to draw closer to Him and His people in the world. I've been participating in Bible Study all year, but this first week of Lent, we had a great discussion about how we find God in our lives, and what unconditional love is. It was a great discussion, so spirit-filled and moving that we ran out of time to go over the Gospel reading, stopping after another of Paul's letters to the Romans. <br />
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Our talk about unconditional love had two main parts: that as humans, we have a hard time really understanding it, and that there is one example most of us can use to get some idea of it. We have a hard time understanding unconditional love because we don't practice it well. Even my mom used to say that she always loved me, but she didn't always like me. But the times she didn't like me could sometimes feel like she didn't love me, even if she said she did. And as an adult, I have a hard time loving unconditionally. I love my husband, but if he were to betray me, which I know he would never ever do, would I still love him? And we talked about God's unconditional love. What is that like? Is it the same as my mom's, that He always loves us but sometimes doesn't love us? And what about sin and guilt? He forgives everything we are truly sorry for, but we can't always forgive ourselves. So when do we <em>feel</em> forgiven? How can we get to a place of feeling unconditional loved?<br />
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The other part of our conversation dealt with the one way we can really get unconditional love in our lives-- through our dogs. One of the women in our Bible study group recently took her dog, Daphne, to visit at a friend's house, and Daphne was attacked by another dog. She had to get stiches on her neck, and she was hurt pretty badly. My friend felt terrible, full of guilt that she hadn't protected Daphne, that she had taken her to a place where she got hurt. But when Daphne got out of the vet's office, she was so happy to see Kimberly and acted as if nothing had happened. Daphne may not be happy if she ever runs into that other dog again, but she didn't hold any anger for my friend. That is unconditional love. <br />
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I had recently recieved a forwarded email story about God and dogs. And angel comes to God to tell HIm that Adam and Eve wanted a companion to keep them company. God makes a dog and sends it to them. But then the angel saw a change in the couple. They became haughty because the dog adored them so much. He went back to God and made a report about his concern, and so God sent Adam and Eve a cat to keep them on an even keel. The story ended with a line about the cooincidence that dog is God spelled backwards. <br />
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So it's Lent. And we're in a time of waiting, a rather sad time of waiting. We are waiting for Christ's crucufixtion which will wash away the world's sin. We are waiting for His rising from the dead on the third day. And this is the greatest form of unconditional love, to be afraid of death, but to go through it anyway to save others. Even to save people who will turn away, who will mock, who will waver back and forth about the reality of what He has done. <br />
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But we aren't the only ones waiting. I'd like to make an analogy here, another dog story, so bear with me. Our dogs, like most dogs, love it when we come home. There have been times when we've been gone for 12 hours and come home late at night, and when they get out of their kennels, they are so happy all they can do is bark and wag and lick us and jump up to get close to us. But, they have the same reaction if we're gone for five minutes. There have been times I've come home just as Paul is pulling out of the garage, and when I get upstairs, knowing the dogs have been kenneled all of two minutes, their reaction is the same as if I was gone all day. <br />
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We wait for God, but He is waiting for us. We go through our lives, knowing that someday we'll meet him. But we don't always focus on that meeting. When people talk about heaven, they talk about meeting deceased family and friends, or famous people, or seeing the wonders of Heaven. But what about meeting God face to face? And won't He be as happy to see us, in His unending love, as those silly little creatures who love us from their wet noses to their wagging tails? I'm not saying God will be jumping and planting wet kisses on our faces, but wouldn't you imagine He'll be happy to see you, a person He made, and loved, and saw live a life while He walked unseen beside you? And in our Lenten waiting, isn't that what we should be joyously waiting for, to meet Him in the end?<br />
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I pray that in this long season of prayer and contemplation, we remember what and whom we wait for, and who waits for us.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-26879067440076827662010-02-11T18:58:00.000-08:002010-02-14T09:21:22.708-08:00BIG Questions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You would think doing a 45-60 minute weekly Bible Study, our little group of 9-10 people would only have time to read the three readings coming on Sunday, touch on some semantics in interpretation, clarify some confusing passages, comment briefly on connections between the Old and New Testaments and Gospel, and say good bye as we refill our travel coffee mugs. </div><br />
Yet, it seems as each week goes by, we keep layering on deeper and deeper questions. These questions have no answer, and even if they did, each of our answers would be very personal. We keep coming back to them again and again. "If God called me to His service, what would I say?" "If I encountered God, would I know Him? And what would my reaction be?"<br />
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There all kinds of little stories about these questions. There's the man drowning in the sea, praying to God to save him. A boat comes by to offer help, but he doesn't take it. The same thing happens again. He finally drowns and dies and goes to heaven. When he gets there, he asks God, "Why didn't You save me?" And God asks him back, "Why didn't you get into one of the two boats I sent?"<br />
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There's a song along these lines too, that Jesus is the carpenter on the roof, the woman begging for food on the street. Stories like this abound, but they are like any other cliches in our lives. They are so overused they are meaningless, or close to that. So when we ask these questions in our Bible Study, really ask them, we all sit silently. Someone might say something about reacting the way most of the people in the Bible do, saying they aren't worthy, that they aren't the right person for God's work. <br />
For example, Moses, when God comes to him on the mountain, says he can't do His work, and doesn't feel okay with things until God says He'll be there to help him, and will give him the right words. Isaiah doesn't think he's worthy of God's work until the seraphim touch his lips to cleanse him of his foul words and thoughts. There are more stories like this of people saying they aren't worthy, and not feeling good about God's calling until they are reassured by God. But there's also the story of Jesus telling the rich man to sell his belongings, leave his home, and come follow Christ. And the man can't bring himself to do it. Where would we be in these stories? What would it take to convince us?<br />
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This coming Sunday is Transfiguration Sunday, and the Gospel reading is from John, retelling the story of Jesus meeting Moses and Elija on the mountain, and Peter and two other disciples see the three men in their blinding glory. Peter says to Jesus that they should make three tents for the men to stay in, and as he speaking, a cloud comes over them, and God tells them, "This is my son. Listen to him." This is as close to a Stooge-esque slap on the back of the head as Peter gets. It's not like Peter didn't see Jesus walk on water, cure the blind, make ten loaves and fishes into hundreds. But even this late in the game, Peter has to be reminded there's a plan, and Peter needs to shut up and listen. So even when we decide to follow Christ, sometimes we forget who's doing the leading. And we manage to make mistakes and speak without thinking. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So what if seraphim come to me one Sunday as I sit praying in church with their strange triple sets of wings? What if I'm out for a hike at Starved Rock and a cloud comes over me and I hear God command me to do something for him? What if I meet Christ on the street, or my office, or he darts in front of my car? My tendency is to say that none of this will happen. </div><br />
But then again, I know God has asked me to reconnect with Him and rescheudle my life around His call to me. And I've done it. He has called me to teach, and I'm doing it. He has asked me to love people that I find very challenging at times, and I keep working at it. Every year, He sends students my way that I have a hard time seeing any trace of Christ in their hearts, but I look and look again. I am not transfigured into a glowing white creature like Moses was, so bright that people asked him to cover his face with a cloth so they could be around him. I probably am more like impetuous Peter who says the dumbest things without thinking about them, or rushes out of the boat to follow Christ onto the lake, and then panics in Wile E. Coyote fashion and sinks. <br />
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I think most of us are there. We strive to be the best we can be, and find we fall short. We listen and listen for God's call, but sometimes we don't like what we hear, or we're listening for what we want to hear. Again and again the Bible tells us people are like children and sheep. Tell a four year old you <em>might</em> take her to Dairy Queen, and an hour later, she'll claim, "You promised!" Ask a ten year old boy to clean up his room, and it's like you've spoken to a wall. Sheep are great at following, but left ot their own devices, they will eat things that aren't food and make themselves sick, get lost, get stuck in bushes and rock outcroppings and hurt themselves. <br />
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Thank goodness God knows our nature and loves us anyway. He knows he's like a parent who has to say things over a thousand times before it sinks into our heads. He knows he has to ask, and ask, and ask, and ask, and maybe He'll get from us the answer He so wants.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-16118483650852872522010-02-04T06:09:00.000-08:002010-02-04T20:58:05.782-08:00Prayer in DevastationIt has been almost a month since the earthquake in Haiti. I keep hearing news on NPR about food and medical supplies still not reaching those who need it. I hear friends talking about how Americans are trying to take children out of Haiti to adopt them before anyone is able to see if the kids still have family alive. Even my students, who usually aren't very talkative about current events, will bring up the misery Haitian people are enduring.<br />
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Like the aftermath of Hurrican Katrina, or the civil wars in Liberia and Uganda, the misery of rebuilding in a ruined land will fade from Americans' consiousness. We have given a lot of money to the American Red Cross, to the celebrity telethon, to the banner ads giving text message codes that have run at the bottom ticker lines of ESPN and CNN. But even all the money in the world won't fix all that's wrong in these places, especially those that are in countries that lack the infrastructure to have long-term political stability that rebuilding requires. <br />
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Our Sunday bulletins at Trinity include leaflets for <em>Episcopal Life Weekly</em>. You can download current and past issues <a href="http://ecusa.anglican.org/95270_ENG_HTM.htm">here</a>. The past month's have all been focused on Haiti. But the one for Jan. 31st noted not just Haiti, but the countries and problems I mentioned above. And at the end letter, The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church and author of the letter, states, "Dollars are needed, but that need is secondary. There is enormous hunger for, and pride in seeking, self-sufficiency." This can only be achieved through faith, prayer and trust. These are much harder to achieve than shoveling away rubble and putting up new schools and houses. It takes the work of humans who are hurt, poor, unsure, and unstable. <br />
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Please pray for all countries that are suffering from both human-made and natural disasters. Pray for the children who will be the ones to inherit their homelands. Pray for their leaders to see the best ways forward. Pray for physical, mental and spiritual healing. Pray for God's all-encompassing love and understanding to guide all people to His heart and soothing touch.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-44189898647859183942010-01-31T17:59:00.000-08:002010-01-31T17:59:45.623-08:00New Year, New Things<div>Where did the first month fo 2010 go? For me, it started with a week of the flu, which lead to my not being ready for classes to start the second week of January. I've been plahying catch up all month. I knew when I sat down at my computer that it had been awhile since my last post. I had to do a double-take when I saw that it's been over a month since I last wrote anything here. I don't make new year's resolutions, but I'm hoping to be more regular about writing in the coming year. Starting now, not on Jan. 1st, obviously...</div><br />
<div></div>So what's new? I had written last year about all the changes in my life, and that I felt that waiting to move forward with becoming a deacon was a call from God to stop and do some other work. Janurary has been the start of my living out this calling. I went back to full-time teaching and am leaving the administrative work that has been taking all my time and energy. The new person JJC hired to take over these tasks is wonderful, and also named Kristin! We're joking that we found the perfect person with the perfect name for the job. Now that the work is in someone else's capable hands, I am focusing on teaching. I had forgotten what I challenge it is for me to learn 85 new names and faces in just a matter of a week or two!<br />
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<div></div>The wonderful part of this change is that my teaching life has expanded beyond my secular classrooms at JJC. I started leading Bible Study once a week at <a href="http://www.trinityaurora.org/">Trinity</a> on Wednesday mornings. I wasn't sure how many people would come, but as I told Fr. Charlie, I'm making a committment to learn the Scriptures better, so if no one comes, it is time for me to sit and read and think about God's word. But we've been blessed to have a table-full of thoughtful, intelligent people for the first three weeks. We're reading and discussing the upcoming Sunday's readings, so we have time to think, pray and digest the lessons before hearing them again on Sunday morning. And Fr. Charlie gets time with us to hear our thoughts and start thinking about his sermon. It's been great with wonderful questions, great talks, and a sense of fellowship with our learning. I am very hopeful that the meetings will continue to be fruitful for many weeks and months to come. <br />
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<div align="justify">Another activity that I started is a quarterly book group. We met this weekend on Saturday to talk about William Young's <a href="http://www.theshackbook.com/">The Shack</a>. Again, I wasn't sure how many people would come, but the conference table was full. We had some critical comments about how humans have tried to capture God in a book or painting, and how these works always fall short, but that in striving to explain God, we get some new perspectives. We talked about the ways Young tried to explain the reasons why God acts, why we have to wait to gain complete understanding, and why we really, really don't want to be the judges of others. By the end of the hour-long discussion, everyone agreed that the group was a good idea, and to have our next book be <a href="http://www.threecupsoftea.com/">Three Cups of Tea</a>. Yeay for breathing life into new avenues of learning!</div><br />
<div align="justify">If I had any questions about whether I made the right decision in waiting to enter further into deaconal training, those were wiped away at the book group. As I was brewing coffee for the group, a friend and fellow parishoner came in to see if I needed any help. She's been coming to the Bible Study group, too, and I asked her how it was going for her. She said it was fine, and then came over and touched my arm. She looked me in the face, and said how grateful she is that I'm doing all that I am at Trinity to help people learn about the Bible and think about their spiritual lives, that these times of learning should be a part of our lives, and that they've been missing at our church for a long time. As I was driving home after the discussion, I heard her words again and I knew they weren't her words alone. Mack, the main character in The Shack, may have had God to talk to face-to-face, but I know God was talking to me through my friend. I'm doing what He wants me to do. </div><br />
<div align="justify"></div>Now that I'm more on track with grading my papers at work, and finally regulated to my new schedule of early morning Bible study, I'll be checking in here more regularly. I met with my spiritual director, Carol, this past week, and she said that I shouldn't worry at all abnout the deaconhood. The diocese has a hold on all new canidates for the next year, so I can go about my calling at church without any thoughts about further calling. But I am also open and willing to do what God wants of me. We'll see where He leads...<br />
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<div align="justify"></div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-5477560899865397932009-12-29T14:20:00.000-08:002009-12-29T14:28:21.758-08:00My Sunday SermonI'm posting my sermon from last Sunday, a small part of which is taken from an earlier entry. Our priest, Fr. Charlie, was on vacation, so we had morning prayer and a quiet time instead of a usual service with music and Eucharist. The talk is still appropriate as we head into the last days of December, and the shelves at the stores are pretty bare with just scraps of Christmas sales left. At least here in Chicago, we have some snow on the ground, and people still have their lights up to make things a little more cheerful in the 17 degree weather!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">**********************************************************</div><br /><em>Opening Prayer:<br /><br />Lord, we bring before you our hearts and minds in thankfulness that you came to us as a human being to share life with us and to save us from sin and death. Open us to your message and love. Amen.<br /></em><br />Isn’t our church beautiful this season? The garlands, poinsettias, bows, wreaths and candles all help us feel festive. We all get excited seeing the lights in our neighborhoods, the shiny decorations in stores, the silly antlers and red noses on minivans. There’s always a charge in the air as Christmas comes closer. People smile more, chat in the long lines, and are happy to check the mail knowing there may be more than just bills tucked in the box. I love the season for all these little things. And I am okay with putting all the cards and bows and ornaments away knowing how happy I’ll be to see them again in about 11 months.<br /><br /><br />We’ve all heard the clichés about keeping Christmas in our hearts all year long and remembering what and who Christmas is all about. Some churches, including ours in past years, use the title "Christ-Mass" which is closer to the Middle English spelling and is probably used as subtle reminder to us to remember where our priorities should lie. There are magnet bumper stickers about "Keeping Christ in Christmas," and people who lament that Christmas has become all about gift giving and getting the latest toy or cell phone. Even Lucy in the Peanuts comic back in the 1960s noted that Christmas has become a "big commercial racket." It's nothing new. And all those sayings about Christmas lasting all year are just clichés, overused phrases that have come to be almost meaningless. Some people even say that Christmas shouldn't be a holiday. That’s just silly. The word “holiday” comes from the words "holy" and "day." But that word, too, has lost its meaning.<br /><br />It doesn’t help that now, just a few days after Christmas, we are back in the first few verses of John’s gospel, and through the rest of the winter and spring we’ll follow Jesus’ adult life in Luke’s gospel. Christmas is a time of birth and all the joy that comes with welcoming a baby into the world. But we’ll be jumping pretty fast into Jesus’ preaching and gathering disciples, and before we know it, it will be Palm Sunday when we walk with Jesus to His crucifixion. I don’t mention all this to put a damper on our festive celebration of Christ’s birth, but that is part of why we celebrate his coming to Earth, isn’t it? He came not to live a long life and die after years of preaching and building communities of faith, but to get things started, and then to die to save the world from sin.<br /><br />That might be part of why it’s so hard to keep the spirit of Christmas going for long after the decorations have been put away. Epiphany will last only six short weeks, and then Lent will be here. Easter barely gets us through May, and then it’s on to the longest season: Pentecost. By the time we reach the fifth Sunday of Pentecost, we’re halfway back to Advent. I don’t say this to get everyone in a panic that 2010 is over before we’ve celebrated New Year’s Day, but just to show why Christmas is so hard to hold onto. We only get two Sundays after Christmas day to celebrate, while all the other seasons are minimally over a month long.<br /><br />This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to keep the joy and peace and love of Christmas with us through the rest of the winter, spring and summer. My mom used to break out her favorite Christmas album on June 25th as a mark that we were halfway back to the holiday. If I hadn’t grown up in the hot Tucson desert, she probably would have turned the oven on and baked a batch of spritz cookies. But even the Muppets singing “Silent Night” in the middle of summer vacation, it wasn’t easy to keep remembering that Santa, and God, were always watching to see how we were behaving.<br /><br />I encourage everyone to live beyond the clichés, to just smile more and be happy knowing God is in you and in everyone. Know that we have to put away the decorations so we can be excited to see them again next year. Know that all the people who needed help and charity won’t cease to need those even when it’s not dark and cold out. Know that every baby who is born will grow up to suffer, laugh, live, love and die. And that’s okay since one baby came to save all the rest of us and give to us the best gift of all, one that’s with us every day of the year— life everlasting in Him.<br /><br /><em>Ending Prayer:<br /><br />Lord, we thank you for all the gifts of this life, gifts that can’t be wrapped and opened, broken or lost. Help those who seek your blessings, light the flame in their hearts that illuminates all good things. Keep this light alive us in all. In your name we pray. Amen.<br /></em>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-11572215956951084232009-12-26T10:14:00.000-08:002009-12-26T17:12:46.500-08:00Looking back on the yearI started 2009 praying about whether or not I should work toward being ordained as a deacon. Just after New Year's Day, my discernment committee met for the first time, and the journey was officially on its way. But, like any trip that starts out without a map, an itinerary and a plan, there was no way to know exactly where I'd go or where it would end. I started the year feeling pretty uncertain, but open to whatever lay ahead.<br /><br /><br />The year went by pretty fast. Just looking at the discernment process, we finished meeting in May, and the group felt that God was calling me to move forward, but that I also needed to keep praying, and keep working on some things. In May, I started meeting with a spiritual director. By July, I had taken all the tests I had to take and was waiting for further news. By the end of July, I was feeling something was not going right, and was praying for sight to see what God wanted me to do. By August, I had decided to stop and wait and not go forward with the meetings, tests and retreat. And by October, when I met with my friend Deacon Debbie Harrington, I had become so focused on my work in Trinity and at school, felt so at peace within myself, that when she asked me if I was having any regret about withdrawing from the process, I had to stop and think. No, there was absolutely no regret, just a feeling of abiding peace and happiness at the direction my life was headed.<br /><br /><br />I am looking forward to 2010. I have two new projects at Trinity that will start in January. One is a weekly Bible study group and another is a quarterly book group. Both will use my talents as a teacher, talents others have seen in me as my true calling from God. And Bible study will hep me fulfill one of the weak areas in my spiritual life-- having a good understanding of and familiarity with God's Word.<br /><br /><br />I've also made room in my life for more peace and less stress. For the past few years I've taken on more and more administrative tasks at my work and been teaching less. The admin. stuff is not where my heart lies, and while I'm good at it, it's stressful and not fulfilling. I'll go back to full-time teaching this spring while letting most of the admin. work slow to a trickle. By the summer, I plan to be a teacher alone, with minimal committee work. This also fills my heart, knowing I'll be connecting with my students even better and without the burdens of the other work on my back.<br /><br />The past year has also been fulfilling with my family and friends. I grew closer to my sister as her wedding approached, and it was wonderful to see her and her husband so happy on their big day. I also reconnected with my dad this year, and continue to have a great relationship with my mom. All three of them were very supportive as I went through the discernment process. This journey also opened up new conversations between my husband, Paul, and I, and even with my other family members as I kept them updated on what was happening with my tests and meetings, and asking them for prayers and advice.<br /><br /><br />I've made wonderful new friends through Trinity this year, and been with new and old friends through good and bad times. I've prayed with friends who have lost close family members and continue to struggle with those losses. I've celebrated as old friends have safely returned from far places and dark places. I've reached out to newcomers who have become close friends, and let go of some people who were ready to move on. All of them have been blessings to me, and I pray that I've been a blessing to them.<br /><br /><br />A lot of people take stock this time of year, looking back at the events of the past, and looking forward into the dim light of the new year. This year I know I'll grow and change and have good and bad experiences. I'll make mistakes and learn from them. I'll help people and try not to hurt anyone, although that's probably bound to happen, too, no matter how hard I try. I might move forward with the ordination process, or I might find that my work in the church and world is just where I need to be. Every new year is a mystery. But what a wonderful mystery! I pray for all the best for all of you, and the understanding that no matter what happens, God is always with us all.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-23796881859297352372009-12-23T19:12:00.001-08:002009-12-23T19:55:21.065-08:00Christmas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWbMnI6WHRySZG8qvQdcMvwHskySyKjmepaFFruQH3FdqrBeBk4gTCFsHcS4Hbk8FTrlpf2CODc8I87x1Q84tcAM5P9yNZTweyOFF1nRL4gyAx7bP5WaoOME5NZVHJu8nDoP6WLGd8Fg/s1600-h/02babyjesus.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 149px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418646089869418738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWbMnI6WHRySZG8qvQdcMvwHskySyKjmepaFFruQH3FdqrBeBk4gTCFsHcS4Hbk8FTrlpf2CODc8I87x1Q84tcAM5P9yNZTweyOFF1nRL4gyAx7bP5WaoOME5NZVHJu8nDoP6WLGd8Fg/s200/02babyjesus.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I'm soooo excited! Tomorrow night, Paul and I and our friends will meet at church at 10:30 p.m. We'll sing carols as more people gather, and we'll have the accompaniment of our choir, and the organ, and a brass section helping out. We'll get bulletins and candles from the ushers, and hug people and smile at newcomers, and wish them Merry Christmas. And at the end of the service, around midnight, we'll light our candles, the church will go dark, and we'll sing Silent Night as we kneel in the circles of light that glow from our candles. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'll probably cry, as much from the feeling of being surrounded in God's love and the love of those we gather with as from knowing that this baby boy who was born, and is born in each person, came for <em>me</em>. I can barely remember most of the people I went to high school with, but God knew all of us before we were ever conceived. He came for me, and you, and all the people of the world. People who don't know Him and maybe have never heard of Him. People who have forgotten they once knew Him. People who know Him, but are in pain looking for Him, or worse, ignoring Him. He came for me even though I was a pain-in-the-ass kid who lied constantly and ruined a Christmas snooping for presents with my four year-old sister. He came even though I'd spend years thinking He was no more real than Greek gods were to the Greeks. He came even though I still sometimes act like a stupid kid, or don't do what's right out of some sense of spite. He's here with me now and always, even when I forget it. And it's that way for everyone. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'll cry because this event is so run-of-the-mill and yet so special. Babies have been born for thousands of years, and His birth was no different. Mary probably cried and screamed and moaned and wondered what the heck she was thinking saying, "Yes," to an angel. She couldn't blame Joseph, but did she get a little mad at God for choosing her, giving her so much pain? Jesus was born in the same mess as all of us, cleaned up and wrapped in fabric. It's normal and ordinary, and yet every mother will tell you that birth is a miracle. He would later perform miracles, but isn't this the biggest one of all? God and man? Wow. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'll cry because of the times I missed Christmas, when I was an angry teenager, when I was in college searching for something that was already there, when I was too drawn up in myself to care about what was going on with other people in the world. I'll cry because of the joy that those times are behind me and I can go ahead in life with my head up and aware and full of prayer. Most of the time. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'll cry for the people who don't have all that I do, who aren't surrounded by love and friends and family, who don't have a house or apartment or a room, who don't have enough to eat. I'll go home to a warm house with barking dogs greeting me, and a bed and a shower and blueberry french toast after opening a few presents in the morning. There are people who give a finger for a good candle to light their way in whatever darkness they have to live with, and all I have to do is move my finger to be surrounded in light.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I pray that everyone gets a tear of joy and one of just a little sadness too, this Christmas. I know I'll be busy with friends and family inn the next few days, and I pray that you will be too. But remember there are people, like Jesus, who are huddled and alone, who face living in an uncertain world that is hostile to them, who were babies once, just like you, me and Him. </div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-41107943245078886582009-12-20T15:35:00.000-08:002009-12-26T17:17:41.936-08:00Advent<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXn1vDurXEUtvM69rWJJ4q5_OkcNnoDuwMuC6dIfbu0VHDx2YrYUiqYCw1uMrEf5q8n44-zEffPHSpJZ01BkXMI82y4LavPjnkjlLvT80JKs7cTa2BkrmHcRacjv5994Z9PP2R1ExRGs/s1600-h/draft_lens7021622module69008781photo_1258402119Advent_Wreath_Candles.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 178px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417485041549452146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXn1vDurXEUtvM69rWJJ4q5_OkcNnoDuwMuC6dIfbu0VHDx2YrYUiqYCw1uMrEf5q8n44-zEffPHSpJZ01BkXMI82y4LavPjnkjlLvT80JKs7cTa2BkrmHcRacjv5994Z9PP2R1ExRGs/s200/draft_lens7021622module69008781photo_1258402119Advent_Wreath_Candles.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Christ is coming!<br /><br />One of the strange things to me about religion is some of the ritual. Christ is long gone from our world. He <em>was</em> born, he <em>died</em>, he <em>rose</em>. All past tense. But we <em>are</em> <em>awaiting</em> his coming, which is present progressive tense. Remember, I'm an English teacher. And it's not like we talk about this as the second coming during this time of year, but the birth as if it were happening again.<br /><br />I also have a good imagination, and understand that we are pretending, acting out the coming birth in Advent, just as we will act out his death in just a few months. I can go along with this, but still, it's just a little weird how we Christians reenact the emotions that go along with these events. I'm not saying we shouldn't be emotional, just that...well... God made us into some pretty interesting beings, no?<br /><br />I am always excited about Christmas coming. I love the decorations. I have trees and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Nativities</span> all over my house. I get choked up seeing the lights all over the city. I love the movies, and got choked up last night at the <a href="http://www.musicboxtheatre.com/collections/26th-annual-music-box-christmas-show">Music Box Theater's</a> annual double feature. <a href="http://paul-latour.blogspot.com/2009/12/dreaming-of-white-christmas-and.html">My husband, Paul, wrote about it</a> better than I could. I love the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysIzPF3BfpQ">music </a>and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIvH5GdY4JE&feature=PlayList&p=D1C480DAE3BE9287&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=28">carols</a>, or most of them, and the way that people get a little friendlier. Midwesterners are pretty friendly folks all year long, but they open up more with the bell ringers, and cold weather and other things that we all share as we go about our days. And I am excited knowing that Christ was born a beautiful baby boy, even as I will grow sad in a few months knowing he must die a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">horrible</span> death to save all of us.<br /><br />There are all the cliches about keeping Christmas all year long and remembering what/who Christmas is all about. In past years our church bulletins and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">announcements</span> have used the title "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">ChristMass</span>" which is closer to the Middle English spelling and was probably used as subtle reminder to us to remember where our priorities should <a href="http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/lay-versus-lie.aspx">lie</a>. (Again, English professors love <a href="http://www.etymonline.com/">etymology </a>as much as verb tenses.) There are bumper stickers about <a href="http://www.virtuousplanet.com/shops/userimages/00005/00000000107/productSmall/00000000000000062269_16.jpg">"Keeping Christ in Christmas"</a> and people who lament that Christmas has become all about gift giving. Even Lucy in the Peanuts comic back in the 1960s noted that Christmas has become a "big commercial racket." It's nothing new. Even the idea that Christmas shouldn't be a holiday is silly. Holiday comes from the words "holy" and "day." We just forget that too.<br /><br />So this week, I'll be getting the last-minute wrapping done, and picking up the holiday ham, and hoping I haven't forgotten anything. And I'll be smiling at people, like I do all year long. But I'll be adding some "Merry Christmas" greetings in there, and putting some money in the Salvation Army pots. But what I'm really looking forward to is Christmas Eve Mass, feeling that closeness to my family and friends, celebrating the joy of a new baby coming into the world, one who probably smelled of fresh hay and wool blankets, who blinked his new baby eyes and had those cute pink baby lips made for sucking at his mother's breast. One who had such a big job to do, but whose mother and father protected and loved him, even as they wondered what would be <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">happening</span> in his future. Even though we know the story, we can share that wonder too.</div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-36748490280963589722009-12-12T17:14:00.000-08:002009-12-12T17:30:24.623-08:00Belated ThanksgivingsI just saw that my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">last</span> post <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">was</span> at the end of October! This is what happens as the semester draws to a close. I'm busy grading research papers, and getting ready for the holidays, and my birthday arrives, and the getting ready for end-of-the-year stuff at church and work, and before I know it, the semester is over and we're facing the Christmas/New Year holidays! <br /><br />So I missed blogging over Thanksgiving. And since I did, I'm going to have a brief entry here about what I'm thankful for. I heard a story on NPR with Maya <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Angelou</span> about her being mopey one day about the state of the world, and her son gave her paper and a pen and had her start a list about all that she was grateful for. She went back to that list whenever she started to feel sorry for herself, or bad about all the events in the world she had no control over. I think it's a good practice, and even thought Thanksgiving is over, we should all take time to make such a list.<br /><br /><ol><li>my family, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">immediate</span> and not-so-immediate, in-laws and those members I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">adopt</span></li><li>my friends at church, work, from writing circles, from past lives as a student</li><li>all the students whose lives I've touched, whether I knew it or not, whether they realized it at the time or later</li><li>my opportunities to love others, from the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">acquaintances</span> who just need a smile, to those <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">who</span> I get to share the most intimate moments</li><li>my work which changes, challenges, excites, frustrates, teaches, and expands me</li><li>my talents from writing to cooking to crafts to telling silly jokes and making fun of myself</li><li>my faith that upholds me when times are tough, and reminds me that I am not and never will be alone or unloved</li><li>the opportunity to worship in that faith in a country that allows me to do so freely </li><li>my voice and thoughts which I am blessed to have full use of in the United States</li><li>my home, my pets, and the food that's in my cupboard and fridge</li><li>music, art, literature, plays, all the creative ways that people express themselves</li><li>caring people who will smile back at me, say a word or two, and remind me that God is in everyone</li><li>the painful parts of life, without which I would take all the good times for granted</li><li>Christmas lights, chocolate, hot cider and good wine!</li><li>the people who I pray for each night, people I don't even know and who I will never meet, but who need my prayers, and the prayers of others. </li></ol><p>This list could go on and on, but it's a start. I hope in this season when we tend to rush around, you will think about your own list, and what is important to you. Blessings!</p>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-91409809683961164182009-10-23T10:34:00.000-07:002009-10-23T10:38:01.433-07:00Top Ten Reasons to give to Trinity (or any other places that do God's work in the world!)10. I like to be warm in the winter and see when it’s dark. Paying utility bills helps that.<br /><br />9. I think our wine is pretty good. The regular Sunday stuff isn’t bad, and at holidays we get good port. Anyone want to have to drink Mad Dog or Boone’s Farm? I think not.<br /><br />8. Books. I love books. I like that our hymnals and prayer books are in good shape without coloring, split bindings, etc. We are able to replace books when they get really ratty because we have some budget for that. Otherwise, we’d be taping pages in and hoping for the best when Fr. Charlie calls out page numbers.<br /><br />7. Napkins and coffee. We can wash our reusable coffee cups and dishes, but who wants to reuse coffee grounds? And cloth napkins, while elegant, would be impossible. Yeay for napkins! And that brings up<br /><br />6. Toilet paper. Definite hooray for toilet paper!<br /><br />5. Fr. Charlie’s sermons. While services would much shorter if we didn’t have a priest, and that might be a blessing on really hot days in summer, I learn a lot from Fr. Charlie’s sermons. Come to think of it, I enjoy Fr. Charlie for other things too. And he gets paid for this. Without pledges, we wouldn’t have him, so I’m also adding<br /><br />4. Fr. Charlie’s blessings at the altar rail.<br /><br />3. Fr. Charlie’s being in his office during the week to help keep things going around here.<br /><br />2. Our buildings. I love old buildings, but Paul and I didn’t buy an old house because we knew that they cost a lot to upkeep and we are not talented at things like plumbing and electrical work. I help Trinity with my pledge to keep the furnace running, the roof on and water running. No one wants me to climb to the ceiling to repair lights, but I can help pay the person who gets hired to do that.<br /><br />1. I am called to pledge. Even when things are tough, I know I am called to help Trinity as part of my community. The Sandwich Board, the immigration help, the coffee hours and potlucks, the dances and classes and retreats and conferences and meetings and my friends here at Trinity need each other. And they need financial help. Even though my husband Paul lost his job this year, we kept up with our pledge because Trinity means so much to us. It can be hard, but it makes us feel good knowing that we help keep Trinity afloat. Please pray for Trinity. Pray about giving of your time and talent. And pray about how much to pledge to Trinity this year. Even a small monthly amount can add up. Trinity needs me and you to help keep going and be a beacon of hope in Aurora.<br /><br />To give to Trinity, go to <a href="http://www.trinityaurora.org/">Trinity's Website</a>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-81745681849935819722009-10-23T10:28:00.000-07:002009-10-23T10:34:31.405-07:00Giving Again<div><div>It’s that time of year again. <a href="http://www.chicagopublicradio.org/">Chicago Public Radio </a>just finished trying to raise 10,000 members during its ten day pledge drive. I’m getting letters from places like the Denver Food Pantry, The Academy of American Poets, and the Greater Chicago Food Bank, all non-profits I’ve donated to in the past. This will only continue as the Christmas giving season approaches, and people make last attempts to get tax-deductible donations before the new year comes around. </div><div><br />Fundraising is also going on at a lot of churches as the fiscal year comes to an end and annual pledges are tallied. And a lot of churches are struggling, especially those with small congregations or those not affiliated with a national or global denomination. </div><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.trinityaurora.org/">Trinity Episcopal</a>, my church in Aurora, has been struggling for some time. We’ve had help from grants to pay for our parish priest’s salary and upkeep on our historic buildings, but by and large we lean on the pledges from congregants. For a long time, we’ve been able to tap into money left by past members, people who willed money to the church. Long ago, Trinity was a church of wealthy business owners in Aurora. If you look around the neighborhood that Trinity shares, there are lots of beautiful Victorian mansions, the huge stone Masonic Lodge that can be seen from miles away across the west side of town, and it’s only two blocks from what was once a bustling river community of shipping, manufacturing and trade. but now, many of the buildings are chopped up into lower-rent apartments, the Lodge has been under renovation for so long that it almost looks condemned, and the businesses are struggling to sur<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKiz1vhKUmey4dbu4SwEIlQdbsjZ4Tvds0fzYxvs5X6E5Vb5PD75eBNyqLClCleoXTJXypxSISN54zs9dMRSk3liace5WXpItEShnb3rRsWoEonxGIrEHExU3koiTqYTx7yc1J_6qdHU/s1600-h/n838772556_1685355_5942606.jpg"></a>vive with many storefronts left vacant or under constant change of ownership. The stained glass windows in Trinity were donated by the same families who built their large homes here and did business in the two-story brick buildings lining Broadway. But many of those families are gone, and their legacy donations have been spent and are dwindling. </div><br /><div>I haven’t been able to give as much as I would like to my church, and it needs money for the work it does. We offer a lunch to the homeless and low income people of Aurora every Thursday with the help of other churches in our area. While the food is donated and the people who run the soup kitchen are volunteers, Trinity has to pay the electric and gas bills to cook the food and keep the lights on. We also stock the bathroom for our guests, and have to insure the building and parking lot for all those who visit. We also offer immigration help with the volunteered hours of Linda Barber, our parish administrator. But her computer, copier, paper and other office supplies have to be purchased. Our greatest asset, and our greatest expense, is our priest. Maybe we could get along without him, but would we want to?</div><br /><div>I was asked by our finance committee to speak at church last week about giving. I felt bad accepting, knowing I don’t tithe and give as much as some of our other members. But I give what I can after the mortgage, student loans, our utilities, food, cars, and list goes on. I encourage everyone to pray about giving to church, and if you don’t go to church, helping to support God’s work in the world, like helping the homeless and hungry whether in your community or elsewhere. Give regularly, and you will receive untold benefits. You’ll feel good about it, for one. You’ll be helping out people who don’t have as much, even if you never see them. And there will continue to be places that serve as oasises for those who need God’s love and peace and healing presence. And really, doesn’t everyone need more of that? </div></div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-17358666629601993162009-10-14T10:12:00.000-07:002009-10-14T10:13:55.055-07:00The Prodigal Son<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKUeeHPO4ToDFHaxDNFT9Q7YkeumRVRkGRhyphenhyphenE4Uh516472Wmlh_LGb0P3eDGdTWqkdUHfLtXjsSww5QioInVVfhW-0RYmur9Sc6-Z2I1usuZcv2hZfIcUxT0tmktJhgATMObNEJxDjBU/s1600-h/remb.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392504724730540578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKUeeHPO4ToDFHaxDNFT9Q7YkeumRVRkGRhyphenhyphenE4Uh516472Wmlh_LGb0P3eDGdTWqkdUHfLtXjsSww5QioInVVfhW-0RYmur9Sc6-Z2I1usuZcv2hZfIcUxT0tmktJhgATMObNEJxDjBU/s320/remb.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Carol, my spiritual director, has asked me what my Bible study is like. I don’t like to admit it, but it’s pretty weak. I grew up Catholic, and there’s not a lot of emphasis on Bible study in that religion. Even though I went through nine years of Catholic education, I don’t remember once being asked to read something from the Bible for school, only to memorize prayers. I told Carol that I do have some favorite stories and Bible verses, though. I like “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you.” Sorry, but I don’t have the book, chapter and verse number memorized, just the passage. But my favorite Bible story has always been the parable of the prodigal son. I had a child’s book of it with illustrations when I was a kid. I remember there was a picture of the son sitting in a pen of pigs, and the pigs were eating these big, juicy-looking ears of corn. Aside from the pictures, the most compelling part of the story was that even though the son did wrong, he was welcomed and forgiven when he got home.<br /><br />Carol sent me home with her copy of Henri Nouwen’s <em>The Return of the Prodigal Son</em>. Nouwen traces his discovery of Rembrandt’s painting of the parable and how the painting has moved him, and what questions it raises and answers. The painting is very straightforward in depicting the father embracing the son who has returned, while the son who stayed home, and some others, look on. Nouwen proposed that the different characters can symbolize different people in the Bible. There are the Pharisees and others who the story is directed at, but Christ also had to leave His father, live a life of hardship, and then return to Him. And we leave God our Father and return to Him when we sin and ask forgiveness, or stay with Him and feel twinges of anger when others get better things in life than we do when we’ve been doing right all along.<br /><br />Nouwen asks readers to explore where they would put themselves in the picture. There are many, many times where we find ourselves as the prodigal son, wallowing in self-pity and misery, caught up in a mess we have created for ourselves. We have done this because we were selfish and didn’t think of anyone but ourselves, or because we were lazy, or because we just didn’t want to deal with life. But, we know deep in our hearts that we can change, turn back home, and return to God and ask forgiveness. And as the story tells us, we will be welcomed with open, loving arms if we are willing to be embraced.<br /><br />But, we can also be like the son who stayed home. We do what is expected of us, follow the rules, and don’t cause trouble. We aren’t treated badly at all— in fact we enjoy the things we have. But we also take those things for granted, or don’t think to ask for more than what we are given as our lot in life. And then, someone else gets more than what we have, or better, or something we would have liked to have ourselves. We feel angry that we aren’t given what we think we’re due, and jealous that someone else less worthy is given something at all. But we also feel guilty, knowing we should behave better. Nouwen points out that the brother figure in the painting has an ambiguous expression and holds his hands where we can see them, but clasped. He has the chance to open them, but will he be able to given the battle going on inside him?<br /><br />And sometimes we feel like the father. We forgive with a generous heart because we know that people make mistakes, because we love our family and friends even when they do wrong. We are happy that they come to us, ask us to help them. We are able to share the goodness of God’s love through ourselves, a shining light in a dark world.<br /><br />At times we move back and forth from one figure to the other. For months I stray from prayer, or I do something I know is wrong and am riddled with guilt. But I return, knowing that I will be taken back into God’s love. But other times, I do what I should in my work, my family and my church. I give of my time, talent, and money. I bite my tongue when I want to say something mean. I forgive people for all sorts of things. And yet, there are people who will get away with lies, or meanness. And they have “more” in life than me, more financial security or better health or less stress. And yet, I know that when I act in love toward even the people I dislike, when I look for God’s light in everyone and open my arms to the possibility of love and forgives, I’m the happiest and nothing else matters.<br /><br />Nouwen goes into much more depth than this, and explores many more facets of the painting and story than I can here, but the exercise is a worthwhile one. Where are you in the painting? Where do you want to be?Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-49343841554764744592009-10-11T17:08:00.000-07:002009-10-11T16:12:03.248-07:00So GratefulDon't. Ask. For <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">ANYthing</span>.<br /><br />This was the refrain that my mom would recite when taking me and my sister into a store. Grocery store. Clothing store. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Convenience</span> store. She was kind not to torture us with toy stores unless we could get something, but that was rare. This has been so ingrained in me, that I have a hard time asking for things in general. There might be other reasons, but this seems logical.<br /><br />Like when my dad took my sister and Paul and I up to <a href="http://www.estespark-colorado.com/things-to-do/shopping/">Estes Park</a> one summer day a few years ago. Estes is a tourist town with lots of little shops. Alicia and I admired <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">jewelry</span> and some art, and Paul liked a sports shirt. Paul asked me if he could get it, and I said no because we weren't making much money then. My dad got it for him. Alicia and I, who hadn't asked for anything, didn't get anything. It never occurred to us to ask. So we just jokingly pestered Paul for weeks afterward about how Dad liked him better than us.<br /><br />That's maybe not the best example, but it's pretty representative. I don't like to ask for help, for gifts, for anything. I can do or get things on my own, and if I can't get it for myself, I don't need it. This drives Paul crazy, because I'm stingy with myself. If Paul says he needs a pair of jeans, we go get them. I'll live with my jeans until they fall apart. I just realized this week that my one black skirt is getting a little worn. I've had it for seven years. Who knows when I'll get around to getting a new one, as long as I can make this one work.<br /><br />You might be wondering what this has to do with a blog on discernment. (Sorry, awkward segue.) But, this affects my prayer life too.<br /><br />I keep a prayer journal. Every night, I write kind of like Anne Frank did to her diary Kitty, but I write to God. I start with being thankful for something from my day, and then I ask for things, always for others. For example tonight's entry will probably look something like this:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Thanks for the warm fall day today, and the cool night last night. Sleeping with windows open is great! Tonight I pray for ____, my single friends who want companionship, my family, ____, Trinity, and for my student who's having a rough time. Thank you for all the blessings I have, like my marriage and my pets who are cuddled around me. </span><br /><br />Sometimes my entries are longer, but for each prayer, I hold the person or people in my heart for a moment before writing the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">next</span> prayer. The closest I get to asking for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">things</span> for myself is usually to ask for things for both Paul and I, like help with budgeting, or with s fight we've had.<br /><br />It's not that I don't need anything. Far from it. And it's not that I am so great I can't use some help. In fact, there are a lot of things in my life that only God can help me with. Like being patient. Or keeping a reign on my swearing. Or knowing what to do in any given moment. Or being kind to people who really, really bother me. There's plenty. But for some reason I find it hard to ask.<br /><br />I talked about this with my spiritual director, Carol, today. She's written a book on prayer, and she's working on one about personal prayer, asking for God for things for ourselves. She <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">admitted</span> that it can be hard to pray for ourselves, for as easy as it is to pray for others. I at least seven people, if not more, that I pray for each night, and sometimes whole groups of people, like Iraqis or soldiers if I've heard that there's been <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">an</span> attack or a disaster somewhere. But it's hard for some people to tell God, "Hey, I need some help with this," or admit that we're worthy of the same help we ask for others. I think part of it is that I know I've got it good in this life. I have a house, a husband, health, food, and fun stuff. I have friends who are missing any one of things, and thus, I'm not as worthy of prayer as they are.<br /><br />One of the blessings of spiritual direction, is that the person doing the directing is also doing a lot of praying. Carol starts our sessions with silent prayer, and usually I start talking to god as I do in my journal, saying thanks for things, and thinking about the people who I know need prayer. But at the end, after we've talked about what's going on, and she's given me some <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ideas</span>, she prays aloud for me. She says my name, and asks God for all things we've talked about. She asks God to give me patience, and wisdom and blessings. She asks for help my students to be open, for me to know how to help them. And it feels so good, like getting a present, for her to do that for me.<br /><br />I'm going to start trying to ask for things for myself, not extravagant things, but things I need, like patience and wisdom. We'll see how it goes. Who knows, maybe I'll get used to it, and see where things go from there.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-31409322987878999252009-09-11T13:03:00.000-07:002009-09-15T08:19:00.639-07:00My Little Sister's Wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxhejmz-60IgNTckHVv3tftEb0ivGTj_R2ek9uh6wQEwg8b2UuRafPMMBFmmXv2HMpZxpa6sroeCoiI35HHJtMDzOwMcIPh2pfvaQwlDx59lBBSvPWI_LDOOR1UoVKW1r4oBjoe3-iDE/s1600-h/9233_1233171590330_1260377543_30704617_3560187_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380308115555516450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxhejmz-60IgNTckHVv3tftEb0ivGTj_R2ek9uh6wQEwg8b2UuRafPMMBFmmXv2HMpZxpa6sroeCoiI35HHJtMDzOwMcIPh2pfvaQwlDx59lBBSvPWI_LDOOR1UoVKW1r4oBjoe3-iDE/s320/9233_1233171590330_1260377543_30704617_3560187_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>My little sister, Alicia, got married Labor Day Weekend. Paul and I drove out the week before to spend time with his brother and sister-in-law, and then made our way down to Colorado Springs to help Alicia and David get ready. Like any wedding, things were a little stressful. Alicia had been working evenings, and David from the early morning to the afternoon. They hadn't spent much time together, and things still needed to be done. In addition, they had just bought a house a few weeks before the big day, and had some things left at the their old place, as well as boxes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">still unpacked</span> at the new house. It goes without saying that emotionally, they were less than perfect. </div><div></div><br /><div>But it was wonderful seeing the two of them work together. Alicia would ask David to do something, and given his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">personality</span>, he'd need to consider the best way to get whatever she needed done, done. And Alicia, who likes things to be done a certain way, and efficiently, would stop and breathe and not yell, giving David time to think. In fact, the whole time I was with them, no one raised a voice in anger. I prayed for patience and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">insight</span> for myself, to know when to say something and when to keep my mouth shut, as well as patience and calm for them. I offered to help as much as I could, and enjoyed spending time being a part of their relationship and getting their celebration ready. </div><br /><div></div><div>My sister and I have always been close. Well, maybe not always. We are five years apart, so I spent the first years of my life being an only child. I still remember my dad carrying me across the street to stay with neighbors the day Alicia was born, and then bringing her for show-and-tell while I was still in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kindergarten</span>. When she started walking, pulling my hair, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">coming</span> into my bedroom <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">uninvited</span>, I started to get a little turned off on the whole big sister/little sister thing. Alicia wanted to be a part of whatever I was doing, and I didn't really want her around all time. But we still played together, confided in each other, and relied on each other in a lot of ways. </div><br /><div></div><div>So, seeing my little sister, the pest, the artist, the athlete, the long-light-brown-haired-hazel-eyed beauty I was so jealous of growing up, change into a partner and spouse over the week, was just amazing. For a while, a lot of us, friends and family, wondered when Alicia would find the right person. She didn't live in a culturally diverse area, and she commuted to college, so how would she meet someone? Of course, God has plans for us all, plans we can't see or know until they've happened. David and Alicia met at an Irish bar listening to Irish music. Culture and good beer are two of their commonalities. God knew what He was doing. </div><div></div><br /><div>As I watched and listened to them repeat the vows they wrote, saw my sister tear up, and David smile at her so lovingly, I knew Alicia was doing the right thing. I haven't seen her so happy, maybe ever. I haven't seen her cry for joy, maybe ever. I have never seen her look so beautiful and poised and thrilled, never ever. </div><br /><div></div><div>I pray that Alicia and David will always see each other as they saw each other on their wedding day, as a beautiful young couple in love. I pray that when they are angry with each other, they take a deep breath and stop and think about what they want to say to each other. I pray that they take time alone to enjoy their marriage, and that they make time for each other every day. I highly suggest a practice Paul and I have, where every day Paul tells me I'm cute, and I reward him with a hug. God will bless their marriage, I know. I was there when He blessed it with a beautiful blue sky, white <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">clouds</span> the shade of Alicia's satin dress, and mountains in the background as strong as His love, and theirs. </div>Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-56802557411301795972009-09-11T12:46:00.000-07:002009-09-11T17:03:30.170-07:009/11/09Eight years ago, I was living in central Texas with Paul, and teaching full-time at Temple College. I had driven the 30 miles or so to work, put my bag in my office, and had started brewing tea. A fellow teacher, Riley, came in to ask if I had heard the news about the World Trade Center. I went to his office with him, where his office mate had set up a tiny TV he kept under his desk. We watched as amateur footage showed one plane, and then another, slipping into the tops of the skyscrapers.<br /><br />I was stunned. I remember saying that going to teach my class of freshman composition students seemed really pointless given the death and destruction and chaos that we were seeing on that small screen. Riley said something like, "It isn't any more pointless than it is on any other day."<br /><br />The school administrators hadn't yet decided whether or not to cancel classes for the day, so I went into my class and taught. I started by saying that I knew about the morning's tragedy, and asked my students to pray for those people and their families. But then I got into my rhythm, and we got through the class. After that first class, the rest of the day was cancelled, and everyone went home.<br /><br />I had a long drive home. At the time, we were living in Killeen, which is next to Ft. Hood, the U.S.'s largest military installation. Would the post be attacked? It made sense, given the number of soldiers and equipment. Every radio station was giving news of the attacks. I got home, and turned on the news. Over and over the footage of the planes, both the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, scrolled on the screen. I remember falling asleep on the couch, not out of boredom, but just the exhaustion of watching so much suffering and chaos going on in my country.<br /><br />Classes were canceled again on the 12th. By then, everyone was scared. Even though no one had attacked Ft. Hood, wouldn't the troops be sent out to defend our country? Who would be sent? When? Where? There were all the rumors of what might happen next, what had happened, who was to blame. We were all shocked and stunned.<br /><br />But I thought when I returned to school just a few days later, about what Riley had said to me, that my job as a teacher was just as important on 9/11 as any other day, or as some pessimists would say, just as useless. Today I drove to school listening to the voices of family and friends reading the names of their killed loved ones. I walked past a ceremony on the school lawn as I went inside to grade papers. I listened to the national anthem before the start of the Cubs game. And every time, I said a prayer. I pray for those who aren't educated and have nothing to live for besides death. I pray that the people whose lives I touch in a classroom will learn tolerance and patience. I pray that our soldiers will fight for what is right, but also serve our country with dignity and justice, not hate and vengeance. My job as a teacher isn't pointless on any day if I inspire others to live peacefully, with laughter, acceptance and cooperation.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-72786151490049035902009-09-11T12:31:00.000-07:002009-09-11T17:04:30.890-07:00Not a Final DestinationEvery road trip I've ever been on has had an end destination. We traveled back and forth from Tucson to northern Ohio during the summers when I was a kid. We drove to Disneyland. I drove to my mom's house in Colorado from northern Wisconsin and Minnesota when I was in college and grad school. Paul and I have driven all over the Midwest and parts of the south. But I've never had one of those road trips where someone leaves the house without a map, without a final destination in mind. That's mainly because I'm type-A and I wouldn't like that.<br /><br />That's also probably why when I started questioning my path to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">deaconhood</span>, I felt really queasy. I had felt like there was a map in my hand, pointing me to a final destination of ordination. But all of a sudden it was like the map was swept out the car window, and I didn't have GPS or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">OnStar</span> or even a passenger to ask for help. There were no roadsigns, and all I could do was stop at the gas station and get quizzical looks from attendants, all of whom had different ideas on how to find my way.<br /><br />I had emailed a lot of friends and asked family for insight. All of them said to listen to what my heart was saying, to God in my heart. But it felt like God was being really quiet. He was like a passenger who falls asleep while you're driving. He's there, but He's not giving input. Plus, He doesn't wake up for just anything.<br /><br />I decided after all this questioning to take a break. One of the concerns my discernment committee had was that I've been moving so fast, and while I was making time for the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">deaconate</span> training I'd undergo, I might burn out. My mom is always one to tell me that I take on too much. Paul does too. Part of me felt guilty, that I was letting Trinity down, or the discernment group, or Fr. Charlie, or even myself. But my health and well-being need to be taken care of. I won't help anyone if I don't help myself first.<br /><br />I made this decision before school started back, but life has been hectic. School starting, my sister getting married, and just everyday life have kept me running, and kept me away from the blog. I'm praying that I will find time to reflect and keep moving on this journey. I'm looking at this as a stop at a really cool roadside attraction, but definitely not the final destination.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4344743232824013180.post-74307776959152909002009-08-16T17:05:00.000-07:002009-08-16T17:06:44.676-07:00Speed Bump AheadMy neighborhood is full of speed bumps. Not those asphalt ones parking lots have that jar passengers’ teeth, but wide rises in the road that gently lift the car up and over. When we first moved here, we had to be attentive and go really slowly over them, but now that we’re used to them, we slow down without even thinking.<br /><br />I’m using a lame metaphor here for the bumps we have in life. I’ve had a busy, busy life for several years in a row now, more busy than I’ve been ever before. I’ve been used to hitting a bump, ignoring it, and moving on. I double scheduled meetings? One quick call usually settles that. I somehow signed up for coffee hour the same morning I’m helping on the altar and doing the readings? No problem. I’ll just ask someone for help and push through.<br /><br />I’ve finally reached a bump that’s made me take some notice, that’s sent my shocks squeaking. It’s not a bump that I can just smooth over with a phone call. I suppose it’s one that I could push through, but the consequences of doing that will be more than just a rushed Sunday morning. I’ve come to a point in my discernment process that is making me stop and wonder if I should keep moving forward.<br /><br />I can’t go into too much detail, but the bump has to do with one of the many tests that I have had to take. The results came back showing the need for another longer, more in-depth test to get some new results to help the diocese make a decision about my strength in going into holy orders. I’m not opposed to taking more tests, per se. It’s not that I don’t think I can do it and do well. It’s just…well…this nagging feeling.<br /><br />I’ve had some nagging feelings from the beginning, but they were quieted after talking to other deacons, or after being encouraged to move forward, or after people said they had faith in me. But I’ve moved on, trusting that the right things would happen. This snag has been one that is calling me stop, listen to God, and pray really, really hard.<br /><br />I’ll be listening, praying, and asking for insight from friends and family. I have to come to a decision soon— there’s a deadline looming.Kristin LaTourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12294824671479086308noreply@blogger.com2