“In My Day”

Last night I confessed a victory from the kitchen to my girlfriends about the moment when you sneak a vegetable into the meal and your child does not notice.  I added a few of the turnips I picked up from Verdant Acres into the taco meat. Victory is mine! One of my friends has a son who is about a year and a half old. She said this is also her life. He only likes broccoli if it is roasted, any other way and he just throws it at her. 

This became a conversation about “in my day…” comparisons.  Such as,  “in my day you cleaned your plate no matter what” or “in my day I only drank from the water hose.”  Our generation’s “I walked up hill to school both ways in the snow.”  It is amusing to think how much things have changed over the years…I mean, I see kids carrying water bottles to school as big as their bodies! We never did that in elementary school, nor did we have snack time after kindergarten ( I actually love that they have snack time now)…but these days kids only want Spring Water in their Stanley cups, with Bento lunch boxes carrying fancy lunches.  What happened to metal lunch boxes with sandwiches in plastic bags, and a thermos of lukewarm Kool-Aid inside?

I wonder what your “in my day” comparisons are?  And if you were to ponder this question considering  your faith tradition and your church life, what comes to mind? A lot of times these comparisons are meant to say to someone in the younger generation, “you don’t know how good you have it.”  But, when we use this language considering the church it is often in reference to something that seems lost to history, a tradition that has fallen away.  Or to shake our heads as we say, “well this is the way we’ve always done it.”

Some examples:

 “It used to be 300 people here on Sunday, easily.” 

“We used to have live greenery at Christmas, and a tree that reached the ceiling.”

“We couldn’t play softball on Sunday afternoons unless we came to youth group first.”

“You didn’t wiggle in church.  You sat quietly in the pew while the preacher talked for 45 minutes.”

“In my day you didn’t wear tennis shoes to church.”

“In my day you wore a hat and gloves, and the men wore a dress coat and tie no matter how hot.”

“The ladies of the church were larger than life!”

“We knew the community loved us.”

I love these things.  I love the stories that are told around memories that are both beloved and tinged with awe or humor.  And if we are honest, perhaps a note of condescension, as if things today are lacking because they are different.  Here are a few things I can say about church that I remember, and some things I hope the future generations will remember when they tell their kids about church.

For me:

“In my day, we had donuts in Sunday School.”

“In my day, we sat in the balcony with our friends (I know some of y’all did too).”

“In my day, we sang Pass It On  and lit candles every Christmas Eve.” (And I will never get over the fact that they do not do this anymore in my home church.  It was a tradition, and it has changed Christmas Eve forever, it is like blasphemy. This is a hill I will die on.)

“In my day, my pastors were easy to talk to.”

“In my day we had guitars and sometimes even drums in church.”

“In my day teenagers could lead worship and sit on committees.”

“We knew the community loved us.”

For the children of our church, I hope they look back and say:

“ Sometimes Pastor Loren let us sit behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings.”

“In my day people were not afraid to laugh in worship or clap when the Spirit moved them.”

“My parents say that I used to run around the sanctuary during the sermon.”

“It was okay when we brought our army men and barbies to church to play under the pews.”

“We collected money for people who needed help with brightly colored buckets.”

“We ate our weight in Goldfish, and no one ever complained when we left crumbs on the carpet.”

“We beat each other up with bean bags and chased each other with cookies in our hands.”

“We knew the community loved us.”

Polka-dot memories

Polka-dot memories

Your red dress, sublime.

Seth said he saved it for the girls

To be worn another time.

You always lost your sunglasses

I think whenever I put on mine.

For all the shade in this damn world

It never eclipsed your shine.

I can’t believe it’s been a year

Since you put your trust in trying.

Hoping for the science of medicine

And God to keep you from dying.

Wish I could say I understand

The world still spins but dimmer.

I’d give anything to hear you laugh

Dancing in hot pink shimmer.

LTM

4/20/24

Birdsong

Morning dawn

Steel sky strong

meets Kelly Green.

Scarlet Cardinal

dives for Dogwood,

Birdsong.

Sunrays

greet petal’s gaze

breezy Pansies dancing.

Finch feathers blaze

Amid sky blue for days,

Birdsong.

In the afterglow

the Robins show

copper burnished breasts.

Dandelions turn in for the night,

Irises reach for the stars.

Birdsong.

LTM

4/20/24

Spring

Redbuds, Dogwoods, and Daffodils

dance before our eyes.

Tulips catch raindrops,

like salvation cups.

April winds lift dead leaves,

and twirl them away.

Rocks overturned, rolled away,

teaming with life behind them.

Songbirds nest and sing

a chorus to renewal.

Every shade of green,

every hue of blue,

every color bursting forth

before our eyes.

And though the grass withers

and the flowers fade,

the season of resurrection

 echoes the word of the One

which stands forever.

LTM 4/15/24

The grass withers, the flower fades;
   but the word of our God will stand for ever.

-- Isaiah 40:8

Palm to Passion

Palms dance in sweaty palms

Announcing the arrival of a savior.

Leaves carpet cloaks in sand.

Moments and movements and memories of

Suffering to withstand.

 LTM 3/24/24

Too much of a good thing

Too much of a good thing?

Is too much of a good thing, a bad thing?  The front flower bed of our home is full of Ivy…was full of ivy.  Yesterday in the warm sunshine I got a wild hair to rip it all out.  I adore the Ivy really. I love the little purple flowers that bloom on it in spring and the way it marches across the stairs on the porch.  I also love watching our cat Mars bury himself in it and sleep in the shade of its leaves in the summer.  But the Ivy was taking over everything else.  It was choking out Daffodils, Irises, and Hostas.  Everything but the weeds! So as much as I appreciate the green ground cover it gives, it must go.  It turns out you can have too much of a good thing. 

What if the entirety of our lives are spent this way?  What if sometimes we find something, and it’s a really good thing, but it turns out choking out some other really good or important things? Maybe you love watching ESPN—it’s a great way to unwind after a long day—but what if you watch it so much you miss out on time with your family or a meal with your friends?  Maybe you love reading but you become so engrossed in your books that you miss what is happening with your loved ones right next to you.  Maybe you find a lot of joy in taking care of other people, but at the end of the week you find you’ve been so busy taking care of meals and chores for everyone else, you’ve done nothing for yourself.  What if you have spent so much time on Saturday taking care of your family or socializing with your friends that you don’t have the energy for church on Sunday morning…. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. 

There are occasions where the things we enjoy as hobbies or opportunities to unwind or unplug become a crutch to us.  They are beautiful, but they kind of take over in a way that can be destructive.  Other times we have the best of intentions to do what is good and show love, that we find ourselves overwhelmed by the commitments we’ve made.  And other times still…these things become ground cover for something dirty underneath. A way to compartmentalize, distract, or avoid something painful or difficult. 

Here's the thing.  I’ve left some Ivy in the flowerbed.  I can’t bear to let it all go, it’s too pretty.  However, I know it is going to need regular maintenance.  I am going to have to occasionally trim it back and redirect its tendrils, or it will overtake my garden again.  What might you need to cut back on? Where might you need to redirect your energies?

Forged in Fire

I read a word of encouragement this morning while scrolling through my Instagram feed that said:

“Do you suppose that the same Son of God that stood in the furnace with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is not also standing with you?  Your furnace may look different than theirs but the One alongside you has not changed.” 

What a great reminder that our God is a constant across the ages.  Also, what a gift that God continues to stand with us throughout our trials, each and every one of us.  Our God is present and active in our lives and in the world. 

It doesn’t always feel that way…the headlines proclaim a world that looks like a dumpster fire.  If there wasn’t war and rumors of war fanning the flames of power and capitalism, would the world cease spinning?  It has always been this way, but more than ever we are made aware of the violence, the epidemics, the poverty, the disasters by the 24-hour news cycle. 

In our personal lives, life seems to feel like we are racing to put out one fire and then another…and then another.  Everyone is facing some battle in their lives, whether it is fighting for health coverage, battling through illness, fighting for a job, fighting an addiction, working through grief, or giving voice to the voiceless, this thing called life can be exhausting. 

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego was always one of my favorites in the Bible. The three young men, along with Daniel were Israelites serving in the Babylonian court of King Nebuchadnezzar.  The king made a huge golden statue and demanded that everyone bow down and worship it.  The Israelites refused to do so, and the King threw them into a fiery furnace as a punishment.  Just as the three men claimed, their God protected them from the flames.  The king and his servants saw four men unbound and walking through the fire.  The fourth was described as “having the appearance of a god.”  They walked from the fire without the smell of smoke or even a singe on the hem of their cloaks. 

This too, is our God. The God who spoke through a burning bush that was not engulfed.  The God who protected his faithful in Babylon from the furnace.  The God who ignited a holy movement with tongues of fire on the heads of believers….that is our God.  And he will do this for us as well.  So I pray that whatever furnace you face, you continue to worship God and find hope in the promise that he will be in it with you.  Amen. 

Solar

This poem was originally written ten years ago, in 2014 as a submission to DevoZine, a devotional magazine for teens published by The Upper Room.   The theme for the submission was “The Skin You’re In.”  Revisiting it all these years later, I find it to be a beautiful metaphor for Lent. 

Solar

She crouches in the shadows

her sin a blanket around her.

In breathing she finds herself

smothered by the stuffy truth.

She imprisons herself, ashamed

of her imperfections, her weaknesses.

Tangled in herself, unable to see God

her sins keep her from His call.

What lies beyond the iron gates

seduces her mind for a moment,

but to pass through those bars

she must leave fear to ashen dust.

She has to let go of the hands that hurt her,

the ones she let herself get lost in;

a broken heart, a body misused,

a mind unbridled.  She drops the cloak, hears His call.

Timid, she steps into the light.

Passion within awakens

and she reflects a flame.

Gates open, she sets herself free. She is the sun.

LTM 2014

You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.- Matthew 5:14-16 (NRSV)

God’s protective ways

Fortress, mighty

 is our God.

for strength and fortitude

we pray.

We beg for shelter under wings

Shade in the blaze of day

Protective cover beneath

 the moon’s revealing rays.

LTM 2/25/24

Psalm 91

1 You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
   who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
2 will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress;
   my God, in whom I trust.’
3 For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
   and from the deadly pestilence;
4 he will cover you with his pinions,
   and under his wings you will find refuge;
   his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
5 You will not fear the terror of the night,
   or the arrow that flies by day,
6 or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
   or the destruction that wastes at noonday.

Psalm 121

5 The Lord is your keeper;
   the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
   nor the moon by night.

Ashes, Ashes

All covered in the same ash.

Formed from dirt, knit with spit.

Charged with God’s very breath.

Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.—Gen 2:7

By the sweat of your face
   you shall eat bread
until you return to the ground,
   for out of it you were taken;
you are dust,
   and to dust you shall return.’—Genesis 3:19

Superb owl

If you know New Providence, I bet you think this post is about our owl, Hootie.  He is a superb owl to be sure.  But, you know what Sunday holds, “the big game!”  You know that image of Julie Andrews dancing in the alps where the hills are alive with the sound of music?  That’s me, not caring about football.  In fact, my husband came to me while I was getting ready for church with a joke for me.  “Hey, I heard Taylor Swift’s boyfriend is going to make an appearance at the Usher concert tonight.”  I’ve always been in it for the commercials…occasionally the half-time show. Never the part where they make a basket, or homerun, or whatever they do (kidding, a touchdown, I’ve got that much).   

But yeah, this year I’m rooting for Karma…that’s the guy on the Chiefs.  One of my friends has said she’ll always root for a strong woman who disrupts the patriarchy, so there’s that, too.  When I say I am rooting for the Chiefs though, what I am really rooting for is love. And happiness.  And family.  That’s always worth investing in.  Unless you’ve been under a rock, you have at least heard something about the Kelce family, and certainly Taylor Swift in the last six months.  And not just Taylor and Travis, but Travis’ whole family has been brought into the spotlight, his brother Jason, talented in his own right, and their sweet mom who I vaguely remember because her two sons played against each other in the Superb Owl last year.  She’s sharing her cookie recipes on The Today Show, and it’s just so wholesome.  

So, whether it’s because you’re annoyed by the attention that they are getting, or excited to see what happens next…their romance has caused quite the stir.  Should it grab headlines over global disasters and conflicts, no.  Should it be big news, no.  But it is and I think the reason is not just because Taylor’s face is the most recognizable one on the planet… it’s because deep down we want to see love.  We want the swords beaten into plow shares and we want love to win.  We want to see that families can still be present for one another. We want to see that people with crazy work ethic can also still find time for one another and be generous with themselves and their possessions.  And maybe, just maybe, we can admit that daddies suddenly bonding with their daughters over football because Taylor Swift might be seen for 2.4 seconds on the television screen, is pretty cool. 

You may ask what all this has to do with faith and Jesus… well the way I see it the two biggest religions in the country might just be Football and Taylor Swift.  If Jesus were to come back right now, I’d like to think he’d be shown on the jumbotron, but I’m not so sure we’d recognize him.  So, we’ve got to see if we can spot glimpses of him elsewhere.  So… I spy with my little eye…people finding joy in their God-given talents. I spy… people who are loving each other fiercely. I spy… loyalty, generosity, and love.  How can we not get swept up in that?

I’m writing this on Sunday night, so by the time you read it, Reba will have nailed the National Anthem as only she can do.  Usher will either have elated or enraged the audience with his half-time show.  Millions of dollars will have been delivered in commercials. You will have possibly eaten chips and dip to the point of discomfort. The game will be over and true football fans will either be celebrating or disappointed in the outcome. As a fan of love and compassion and decency, I’m way more interested in what this one family has highlighted in the football community and now the globe—the importance of relationships and integrity. So, anyway, Go Taylor Swift’s boyfriend! Go, Chiefs!  Go, happiness!  Go, love! Superb!

Sincerely,
The Tortured Pastor’s Department(because she doesn’t care about football)

Slow Down

Recently my sweet son (the one who just yesterday babbled nonsense as he toddled around) said something to the effect of, “when I’m grown up I will…” and I say, “don’t wish your childhood away, it will come soon enough.” Then I catch myself in the next breath muttering, “Lord, January has been the longest year!”  And then it is God chuckling at me and prompting, “don’t wish your life away.”  Perhaps God intends January as a soft launch into the year, allowing a little extra time to meet the annual goals we begin with fits and starts (maybe that is just me).  I’ve noticed the last beams of sun linger on the horizon a tad longer each day.  Bird songs seem to trill in the air with greater weight as they hit each note. “Slow down,” the Creator seems to chide, “slow down.”  Easter will be here in a blink, hazy days of summer will tumble by, then at breakneck speed we’ll fly through fallen leaves and thankful feasts and collapse beneath a Christmas tree once again.  Who knows what highs and lows we’ll meet in twelve months’ time. It marches on like a drumbeat…. But I wonder too, what will we miss?  What will we miss when we are complaining that the minutes seem like hours and the hours seem like days? Or worse, when we complain that there is never enough time?  What blooms will wilt as we hurry by? What stars will streak across the sky? Slow down.  Slow down.   

What I love about (a New Providence) Sunday

Creak of the solid door

Smells like wood and

Hundred-year-old dreams.

Scarred railings

holding the hands

of each generation

propelling upward

like a steeple in the sun’s rays—

regal and reaching.

There’s a hum in the hive.

The bees start to arrive,

sharing the collective

nectar of their lives.

To the providential land

they infuse golden honey.

A kind word here.

A belly-laugh there.

The tinkling of bangles

and keys as they jangle,

a backbeat to the squeals

of the coming generation.

They produce a twinkling in eyes

that have looked on and seen so much.

In the quiet prayers

of a hushed room;

when the pews groan

they sigh the hopes

of a founding generation

who prayed this space,

this faith—

would outlast them.

And the organ warms

to a sweet, sweet sound

and the glory of the Lord is found.

It streams through the windows,

sunlight blinding.

It echoes in the voices intertwining.

And we are home.

LTM 1/28/24

Faithful Messenger

Windy whirls of white

A wonderland scene

Bare branches shimmer

In gossamer light.

Candy apple red

Flash of cardinal flight

Onto powdery carpet

He deftly alights.

LTM 1/21/24

 Like the cold of snow in the time of harvest
   are faithful messengers to those who send them;
   they refresh the spirit of their masters. –Psalm 25:13

What’s in the Wind

When the wind was particularly blustery the other day, my helpful son went out to the porch and brought in our pillows and cushions that occasionally get tossed off into the grass.  It was freezing outside but he insisted on running out the door, sans socks to take care of our things.  He was also distressed that our cat Mars was outside in the elements!  It is a small thing, but it made me wonder if, in the busyness of life, we rarely observe what is going on around us.  How often do we miss the chance to bring someone to safety and provide sanctuary for the proverbial gusts of life?  How often does inconvenience to us prevent us from serving someone else?  I, for one, hate being out in the cold and wind…I would have left the cat (and the pillows) to fend for himself! How often does discomfort hinder my compassion?  If I had heard John declaring Jesus the lamb of God, if I had encountered Jesus, would I have even paused to raise questions about him? Would I have taken the time to ‘come and see’? Do I give a second thought to those living in the elements with nothing to eat? Do I observe those who are silently suffering or writhing in personal pain?  I am reminded that the Hebrew word for wind is also the word for God’s breath and spirit.  I try to remember this whenever I feel annoyed by the wind as it blows.  How is God moving right in front of us and what is God begging us to see, hear, and experience? 

All Things new

January one--

New year, new you, a haiku

Break of day, same God.

-LTM 1/8/24

“Do not remember the former things,
   or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
   now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
   and rivers in the desert.”—Isaiah 43:18-19

“So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” 2 Corinthians 5:17

Joy & Love

Journey to the hamlet

Over fields and hills, afraid

Yonder the promise lay.

Long robes of embroidered silk

On camels backs they were carried.

Venturing abroad with gifts so rich,

Eastern magi to enthrone a King.

Peace

Poor carpenter

Enters the city gate.

Angels have kept him awake.

Census for Augustus awaits.

Expectant mother, on the donkey she quakes.

Hope

Heaven came down

On a clear star night.

Perfect love made manifest:

Emmanuel, God with us.

LTM 12/3/23

The Dressing

Food tells a story.  How can it not, it is central to our lives.  So many of the narratives of Jesus, particularly in the gospel of Luke center around meals.  My Grandma Becky was a one spunky lady.  She was petite like me. She worked outside the home and always had a garden when I was a kid.  She raised my dad and my aunt to adulthood without them killing each other, and she was married to my Papa Tate for over 50 years.  Let me tell you, she needed to be spunky. The older I get the more I realize how much Thanksgiving was her holiday. She loved to feed her kids.  She would cook forever and dirty every dish in her kitchen doing it. Always delicious.  My favorite dish that she always made was fried dressing to go with the turkey.  I’ve never seen “dressing” or “stuffing” made this way outside of my family. My cousin Jason and I fight over who will take home the leftovers.   So central is it to Thanksgiving dinner in the Tate family that with Grandma Becky gone, Jason, and I make it for our in-laws’ meals.  Sometimes we get my mom to make it for Christmas if we do not have it the month before.  And on rare occasions Michael will make it just for me.  Since my family gathers for Thanksgiving the Saturday after the holiday to accommodate both sides of the family, we don’t always have the traditional meal.  This began long ago when for a time my family had breakfast instead of lunch on Thursday.  The first time we tried this change in tradition, I was a young teen and  my grandmother made turkey and dressing anyway! I loved her for it. So, Thursday night, I made dressing and gravy for dinner.  As I fried the patties, I placed them on one of my grandmother’s everyday plates she always used with strawberries on it.  I was at the stove when Kemper came through and asked why I was smiling. The counters were a mess, I’d used twice as many dishes as I had planned, and I realized that was just about right.  I told him I was communing with my grandma, and it made me happy.  I texted my cousin and told him I was making our favorite dish and he said he had done the same.  Good, that meant I didn’t have to save any for him! Boy, I can’t wait until the heavenly banquet because I bet she’ll be dishing up dressing for the head of the table, apron on and spatula in hand.