Tomorrow is the day. I have tried to post a couple of times, and keep hitting road blocks as I have had struggles with my internet connections. I hope I will get this through, as it will be my last chance to post until I return from Taize.
I am almost ready to start thinking about this. I have avoided it until now. I haven't thought much about leaving my husband Glenn home alone, until today. Who will know if he is home sick, or hurt? I asked him to make plans to call someone daily. After all, you never know.
And how many other things have I not even thought about, which will start tugging at me once I am in the air? Maybe I should have focused earlier. But earlier times were filled with earlier things. So many things to tend to, each of which must be given their full attention. And so here I am, down to the wire.
My prayers are with each of you. I pray that God will be with you, and guiding you in these days, just as I hope to be guided. Perhaps you can set aside a little time each day, say, half an hour or so. Imagine that it might be the same time as I am in worship, or bible study. Invite God into that time with you. Try not to struggle or question. Just sit comfortably, just as you might with a good friend. Relax, and don't work too hard at it. Listen: you just might hear God in the patter of rain or the chatter of frogs.
If I can find a computer, I will post while I am ther. Otherwise, see you when I get back.
Peace and blessings,
Bette
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Violence and Fear
I learned yesterday that there was a home invasion on Sunday in the boarding house next door to my home on Staten Island. Later in the day, a short bit after agreeing with my friend Karen to skip the walk we had hoped for, I heard that a man had been found bludgeoned to death in the park we frequent.
The new parsonage in Astoria has three entrances, each with metal gates and 2-3 locks. There are bars on the windows.
I found crime statistics on the internet. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being lowest), the national average for both violent crime and property crime is 3. For Astoria, it is 6 in each of these categories. For our neighborhood on Staten Island it is 6 in property crime, with a 7 for violent crime.
Even as I pray for the victims of these crimes, even as I pray for the offenders, there is the voice in my head that just keeps saying "not me, Lord. Don't let it be me." And last night as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, listening for noises outside, I wished I didn't live here. But where do you run to? It may happen less frequently elsewhere, but it still happens. Living in an area with a score of 2 or even 1 is no guarantee that you will be safe.
We could move. It might be difficult; and we would have to give up some things. We might be able to find that combination of safety, inexpensiveness and work that we would desire. But we have the resources to do it. The men and women in the boarding house don't have that luxury. The families in the apartment building across the street don't have any other choice. To abandon the neighborhood is to abandon them.
I suppose I will sleep better tonight. That's the way it usually works. And I will pray. Tonight's prayer is a sigh too deep for words.
God bless you all, and keep you safe this day.
The new parsonage in Astoria has three entrances, each with metal gates and 2-3 locks. There are bars on the windows.
I found crime statistics on the internet. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being lowest), the national average for both violent crime and property crime is 3. For Astoria, it is 6 in each of these categories. For our neighborhood on Staten Island it is 6 in property crime, with a 7 for violent crime.
Even as I pray for the victims of these crimes, even as I pray for the offenders, there is the voice in my head that just keeps saying "not me, Lord. Don't let it be me." And last night as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, listening for noises outside, I wished I didn't live here. But where do you run to? It may happen less frequently elsewhere, but it still happens. Living in an area with a score of 2 or even 1 is no guarantee that you will be safe.
We could move. It might be difficult; and we would have to give up some things. We might be able to find that combination of safety, inexpensiveness and work that we would desire. But we have the resources to do it. The men and women in the boarding house don't have that luxury. The families in the apartment building across the street don't have any other choice. To abandon the neighborhood is to abandon them.
I suppose I will sleep better tonight. That's the way it usually works. And I will pray. Tonight's prayer is a sigh too deep for words.
God bless you all, and keep you safe this day.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
On Prayer
The impossibility of this modern life is to hold onto it. The days just seem to fly. I had started this blog in the hopes of a daily journal as I prepared for Taizé. But in the midst of my plans, life happened. Now I am just 8 days from leaving, and I have barely started.
Since my last post, I have been appointed to a new church, and had to pack up and move in a very short period of time. I had a good long relaxing vacation in the midst of it, though. I had the profound experience of companioning a family as they sat through heart surgery on their 16 month old daughter. And I have been praying.
I have a lovely picture in my head of what prayer for a pastor should look like. I should rise up early, enter the sanctuary in those cool moments before the sun has taken possession of the day. The light would filter through the windows, catching the dust motes (just a few!) and pulling me to the altar rail. There I would lose myself in communion with God, kneeling for an hour that would seem just a minute.
I have not seen this new church's sanctuary at dawn; I scarcely saw the previous one at that time either. In both of them it is not quite so picturesque as they both suffer from a worn out rug. Even if I did make it in, the dust motes would distract me into thinking about the work to be done.
Instead, prayer happens in my car as I am crawling through Brooklyn, it happens before meals or in the shower, during worship or after it, at the side of a casket at my first funeral in my new appointment, and in various rooms in a hospital with a young family. Wherever I am, God is there. Waiting for me to converse, to dialogue. To talk and to listen. It doesn't happen as often as either God or I would like it to happen, but it happens just the way it can right now. I worry about getting it right. I think God simply looks for it to happen.
Since my last post, I have been appointed to a new church, and had to pack up and move in a very short period of time. I had a good long relaxing vacation in the midst of it, though. I had the profound experience of companioning a family as they sat through heart surgery on their 16 month old daughter. And I have been praying.
I have a lovely picture in my head of what prayer for a pastor should look like. I should rise up early, enter the sanctuary in those cool moments before the sun has taken possession of the day. The light would filter through the windows, catching the dust motes (just a few!) and pulling me to the altar rail. There I would lose myself in communion with God, kneeling for an hour that would seem just a minute.
I have not seen this new church's sanctuary at dawn; I scarcely saw the previous one at that time either. In both of them it is not quite so picturesque as they both suffer from a worn out rug. Even if I did make it in, the dust motes would distract me into thinking about the work to be done.
Instead, prayer happens in my car as I am crawling through Brooklyn, it happens before meals or in the shower, during worship or after it, at the side of a casket at my first funeral in my new appointment, and in various rooms in a hospital with a young family. Wherever I am, God is there. Waiting for me to converse, to dialogue. To talk and to listen. It doesn't happen as often as either God or I would like it to happen, but it happens just the way it can right now. I worry about getting it right. I think God simply looks for it to happen.
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