Top 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.

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.

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.

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

6. Toilet paper. Definite hooray for toilet paper!

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

4. Fr. Charlie’s blessings at the altar rail.

3. Fr. Charlie’s being in his office during the week to help keep things going around here.

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.

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.

To give to Trinity, go to Trinity's Website

Giving Again

It’s that time of year again. Chicago Public Radio 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.

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.

Trinity Episcopal, 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 survive 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.

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?

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?

The Prodigal Son

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.

Carol sent me home with her copy of Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son. 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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

So Grateful

Don't. Ask. For ANYthing.

This was the refrain that my mom would recite when taking me and my sister into a store. Grocery store. Clothing store. Convenience 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.

Like when my dad took my sister and Paul and I up to Estes Park one summer day a few years ago. Estes is a tourist town with lots of little shops. Alicia and I admired jewelry 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.

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.

You might be wondering what this has to do with a blog on discernment. (Sorry, awkward segue.) But, this affects my prayer life too.

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:

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.

Sometimes my entries are longer, but for each prayer, I hold the person or people in my heart for a moment before writing the next prayer. The closest I get to asking for things for myself is usually to ask for things for both Paul and I, like help with budgeting, or with s fight we've had.

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.

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 admitted 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 an 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.

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 ideas, 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.

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.

My Little Sister's Wedding

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 still unpacked at the new house. It goes without saying that emotionally, they were less than perfect.

But it was wonderful seeing the two of them work together. Alicia would ask David to do something, and given his personality, 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 insight 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.

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 Kindergarten. When she started walking, pulling my hair, coming into my bedroom uninvited, 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.

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.

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.

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 clouds the shade of Alicia's satin dress, and mountains in the background as strong as His love, and theirs.

9/11/09

Eight 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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

Not a Final Destination

Every 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.

That's also probably why when I started questioning my path to deaconhood, 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 OnStar 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.

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.

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 deaconate 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.

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.