Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a tooth!
And now, to do some mommy bragging: almost NONE of the predicted weeping and gnashing of gums. Zora clearly loves her mama so much that she knew I couldn’t handle a whole lot of that right now. So she’s taking it all in stride, smiling on cue to the church folk, laughing up a storm, and drooling no more than usual.
Please pray that I can teach her good oral hygiene so that this doesn’t happen to her someday.
You need to read this sermon. I don’t care who you are, what’s going on in your life, or even if you read sermons regularly. You need to read this. It is gospel and wisdom from someone who embodies what he preaches.
Sleeping baby, no youth group meeting, comfy couch, Harry Potter movie, bowl of spicy soup, pile pf chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen…
My husband Erik and I were raised in hiking families, and when I say hiking, I mean the kind that includes being out of touch with civilization for days at a time. We know what it’s like to loose track of your place on the map, to choose the wrong path, to get lost for two hours, and (in Erik’s case) to have the Marquette, Michigan search and rescue team come up a mountain for you in the middle of the night.
There is a thrill about the moment when you come to a crossroads—a decision to make, an opportunity, a new route: the potential for a rush when you make the right choice and come safely to camp; the potential for disappointment when you realize you’ve gone 2 miles in the wrong direction. There is a thrill, when you return to the trailhead and see your car in the parking lot, of knowing you’ve made the right choices, and you are safely on your way home.
The Bible interlaces the idea of conversion with the idea of a journey. The people of Israel, leaving Egypt, wandering in the desert for 40 years, finally crossing the Jordan to enter the promised land, they are on a journey that is as much about conversion as it is about travel. Even as they enter the land and take possession of it, their leader Joshua stops them before they scatter to their new homes, and challenges them: Choose this day whom you will serve…their travel is over, but their journey is not ended. They have arrived, but they will still face crossroads. Generations later, the prophets, when they call the people back to God, use the language of travel—the prophet Joel says: return to the Lord your God… turn around, choose your path, return to God. And when the apostles preach the gospel in Acts, when people hear and are moved by the Gospel of Jesus Christ, it is the same language of turning: people repent and return to God. Over and over again, God’s people go through not just one conversion, but many: a lifetime of repenting, choosing the path, turning safely toward home, returning to God. Lent is an invitation to stand at the crossroads, to hear God’s call, to make a choice, and to turn. And all our preparation for Easter, all our actions, all our commitments for these forty days, ultimately they are symbols of the path we choose as we stand at the crossroads, signs of recommitting ourselves to God. And so, if the ash smudge on your forehead is only a reminder of death, you’re missing the point. That smudge is also a cross-roads: a reminder of where you come from, and where you are going; a reminder of who you are, and who it was that made you; a reminder that you are constantly called to make choices, to turn, and to follow. And the words—remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return—are a reminder of the Christian journey—walking alongside Jesus is a journey through life, and, yes, toward death. . . . But, along with the people of Israel, hear Joshua’s voice:
Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.
And hear Joel’s reminder of God’s faithfulness:
Return to the LORD your God,
for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love
And know that the choice is what leads us beyond death. Because we are all dust, and we will all die.
But walking on the path Jesus Christ walked means walking toward the cross, toward his death. And walking through death with Jesus means walking out of the tomb into his life. This is the crossroads—we have been here before, we will be here again.
Now is the time to choose our path.
And with each turn, we are closer to the trailhead, closer to home, closer to God.
Amen.
Last night, Zora made her first bold statement about food she does not like. We made her a parsnip and potato puree, tried to give it to her a few nights ago, and she wasn’t too thrilled. So last night, I got it out again and added some carrot—she likes carrot! I got two spoonfuls in her mouth: she put forth the usual “bleagh . . . this tastes new” face that she currently uses for everything on spoonful one. I went for two: she did the face times three, and started to make gagging noises and then puked up the food (and her milk appetizer). And then she happily ate some sweet potatoes and made her way through applesauce, too.
Zora wins: I’m putting the parsnips back in the freezer for awhile.
I did it! I managed to read some books! (I am so woefully behind on things I want and need to read, so getting through these two feels like a accomplishment.)
Last week, I finished Teaching Kids Authentic Worship. It looked so promising when I picked it up from a book table. I burned through it in a night. I couldn’t stand it. The author’s premise is that true worship is praising God simply for who God is, not for the nice things God does for us. We don’t teach kids how to do that. We could—they could be able to rattle off and marvel at God’s attributes the same way they can rattle off stats about their favorite sports-pop-tv-movie-star. OK, I can handle that: we should teach kids to do that. But the author argued that this type of praise is ALL that worship is. The other stuff doesn’t count. And, she said that we should teach them this OUTSIDE of the worship service. What a downer–the first book I really manage to slog through in the last few months, and I didn’t like it.
But then today, I immersed myself in this fabulous, minister-nerdy, dense, and did I say fabulous book Confirmation: Presbyterian Practices in Ecumenical Perspective, by Richard Robert Osmer. I left the baby with my Mom and went across the street to the library, found a comfy chair and within 5 pages I was hooked. (By the way, thanks to Susan for recommending this author.) It was exactly what I needed to read (I can’t make ay sense out of what I’m supposed to do with my confirmands…): a psychological, sociological, cultural, historical, theological review of everything you could ever want to know about confirmation. I was in nerdy-minister heaven. I wanted to jump up on my comfy chair and yell, “Hey, this is the best book ever…you all have GOT to read this.” (Probably wouldn’t have gone over too well in the quiet reading room of th public library.) I remembered, maybe for the first time since I left seminary, why I liked all the reading in seminary. I think angels started singing in the background and my brain re-gained some of the cells it lost in the mushy post-partum period.
And so, tomorrow, I will face down the pile of e-mails awaiting me and the giant to-do-list on my whiteboard, and I will think to myself, “I can do all this, because I can READ!! And, if I get this done, I can try to think about how to make confirmation even better!!”
Yes, folks, just shy of 6 months, Zora is eating “solids” (a loose definition, judging by the consistency).
We’ve done rice cereal and bananas, and this morning I decided it was time to make some carrot puree. I’m planning to make my own baby food for a couple reasons: avoid picky eating; I suffer under the illusion that I am Martha Stewart; I’m cheap; the stuff in cans just looks nasty; a huge bag of carrots has been occupying my veggie drawer for longer than I care to admit; makes me feel like a better mama; and how hard can it be?
And, now that the carrots are smooth and portioned out, a few observations:
1. There is a reason that we have moved beyond the technology of the ricer–it’s kind of a pain. While it is great that my husband can haul out the ricer if he ever feels the need to get in touch with his heritage and make lefse, that is about all I plan to use it for. My blender is my friend. If anyone wants to buy me a food processor, though, I will not complain.
2. Use lots of water–otherwise it won’t get too smooth.
3. Carrots are really orange. I hope this doesn’t happen to Zora.
4. You know that great idea about putting the baby food in ice cube trays? Well, it’s a little tough to scoop it in neatly. But check out my handy carrot-puree-piping bag (i.e. ziplock baggie with a corner cut off.)
4. Then, if you get the food in the ice cube tray, you’ll be tempted to make it flatten out a little more evenly in the compartments. DO NOT succumb to temptation and tamp the tray down (hard) on the counter. You will get sprayed with carrotty goodness.
5. But, look how nice this looks:
I can’t wait to see it on Zora’s face.
My final conclusion: Now that I know how quickly a baby grows and develops, I’m guessing I’ll only have to make about two batches of each first food in this sort of fine puree. In no time, we’ll be on the chunky versions.
And boy, is that a good thing!
Twice now, I’ve designed a cycle of prayer stations for my youth group: one for junior high and one for high school. I’m creating a new page to share these with anyone who’s interested.
I like the format for kids who are not particularly steeped in the spiritual disciplines, and need to learn how to access prayer through the different senses.
I’m posting a Lord’s Prayer cycle, designed for a junior high confirmation class, now and I’ll post the Winter Soul stations, for a high school group, later.
If these might be helpful to you in your ministry, please use them. I only ask that you give me credit when you use it AND let me know if you use it!
(I’ve realized I’m not keeping up with my “churches” series because I can’t fully encapsulate everything I learned at a particular church in one post. So, from here on out, just a little something…)
Church of the Servant (COS) is a church I’ve been part of twice in my life: I was baptized there as a baby while my dad was in seminary; and it was my church during my own years at seminary.
I love many things about it (for instance, I think it might be the most beautiful space I ever worshiped in regularly).
But one of my best memories of it has to do with children. I remember a Sunday when one little guy “escaped” from his family, charged front and center, and slid under the expansive communion table. One of the high school kids (unrelated to this little guy) went after him, but the escapee was wily–he rolled around back and forth under the table, avoiding capture.
I loved this moment because the whole congregation took it so easily, and it said so many beautiful things about their worship. They could let something unexpected happen and take it as a blessing. They viewed the communion table as a place of joy. They valued the presence of children in worship. And, what a wonderful thing, to see someone truly taking refuge under the table, viewing it as a safe space, and helping us all to worship by laughing.
This was a church where moms routinely nursed babies during the service, where parents felt free to take kids to a nursery or keep them nearby, where kids owned the sanctuary as their space, too.
What got me thinking about this was this post about a pastor-mom and her daughter during worship. I have not taken Zora with me into worship, in part because I know myself, and I know that I would have a hard time concentrating on leading with her there. And I think this is a deeply personal choice for parent-pastors. Zora’s got a good thing going if she can sit with dad in worship (or, the last few weeks, attend a service with grandma and grandpa, albeit at a different church). And different churches have different needs. For example, when I was at a church where there were emergency-disaster directions under the pastors’ seat, I’m not sure that would have been a great setting in which to sling on a toddler.
But I wonder–would I dare? I don’t know that the congregation I’m with now would react well. Shoot, I don’t know how COS would react!
Maybe, someday, Zora will make that decision for the congregation. I think she is already showing the type of temperament that might move her to run to the front and made a dash for mama’s lap. We’ll see…
Zora spent some time with my parents and my sister this weekend, and the entertainment included some photo sessions:
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If you like these, I’d highly recommend this book, which was their inspiration for the photo-shoot.