Community at Sesame Street

Following a significant transition, I have once again been readjusting and acclimating to our new home.  This includes not just the actual house where we reside but also the communities into which we have entered.  There are for us several layers to community, as we share life together.  First, we are surrounded by a lovely community in Clay County/Hayesville where we live.  Second, we are living out faith and ministry within the community Reid's Chapel United Methodist Church where I serve.  Third, we are experiencing community through Young Harris College where my husband serves.

I couldn't help but think about my own life in community while the 40th anniversary celebrations were happening for Sesame Street last week.  It brought to mind community, neighbors, and life together.  How could it not, after all?  This is a street filled with friendship, laughter, learning, conversation, and sharing.  Then, my reflections about community at Sesame Street were confirmed when I saw Cookie Monster, Elmo, and Abby in a Today Show interview.

When asked by Matt Lauer what they have planned for the next 40 years at Sesame Street, Elmo responded:  "We hope that we get to sing and dance and love each other as much as we have been loving each other for 40 years."  My intention is not to moralize or to be sappy, but I think that Elmo has offered a helpful message about life together in community.  Maybe thinking about it as simply as this will help those of us who strive and even struggle to live together because, with or without new transition, community life is not always easy.

So, how do we form, nurture, and sustain life together in community?

Singing...

Dancing...

Loving each other...

This is a pretty good start!!

Thousand of Miles (and Almost As Much Luggage)

Thousands of miles traveled.

Five months have passed.

What can I say?  It has been a quite a ride.  We shared an adventure of a lifetime in England, and then it was time to return.  We left London like this...

(And in the end, we only had to pay for one extra bag.)

Thankfully, our travels with a toddler were great from Gatwick.  Needless to say, she is well-seasoned at the ripe age of three.  She took in the sights at the airports and enjoyed the escapades.  This was a very familiar and comfortable vantage point for her along the way...

(This "buggy" has been faithful through the journey.)

Having the premier window view for the 8 hour flight, she remained content in her seat with her books, DVDs, crayons, stickers, and plush friends the entire time except for several potty breaks.  And there was a nice, long nap somewhere in there as well.  This prepared us for our arrival in Philadelphia where we would meet the newest addition to the Spivey clan.  There is no denying this cuteness...

(My nephew is five months old now but was only two weeks old in this photo.)

Following our visit with this sweet baby and his parents, we ventured back into North Carolina to prepare for our relocation to Hayesville.  This included catching up on some of our favorites, including sweet tea, Mexican food, and Grandpa's convertible.  Quite the combination, I know.  This is the joyful evidence...

(Notice the sunglasses and the most appropriate queenly wave.)

After the convertible ride and lots of other fun, we literally headed for the hills.  And what beautiful hills they are!!

(This is a view from the highest elevation nearest to our house.)

Home sweet home.

Friday Family Outings

We are intentionally looking for "England experiences" in these final weeks of our living in Thatcham.  Since Fridays are our designated day off, we use Fridays as a day for family time. Usually, our criteria are very simple.

1.  Fun

2.  Three year old friendly

3.  With an England "flavour"

This is really not too much to ask, and in fact, we have been quite successful in our Friday family outings.

We ventured out several Fridays ago to an inside museum that replicates a Victorian English town.  We were quite pleased with our choice and were looking forward to the experience.  It met all of the criteria (so we thought...).

England "flavour" - check

Three year old friendly - check

Fun - not so much

Upon arrival, our resident 3 year old climbed into her stroller, and off we went.  We purchased tickets (yes, we paid for this soon-to-be short-lived adventure), and we stepped back into time. Very pleased with ourselves we perused the exhibits, looked at the antique buses, cars, fire trucks, and wagons, and window shopped along the old town streets.

Then came the verdict, as stated by the discontent and convincing 3 year old:

"Let's go somewhere fun and play."

Yep, this pretty much sealed the deal for this Friday family outing.

In all fairness, the resident 3 year old wasn't simply being difficult.  She was actually rather creeped out by the "people" standing in the shops and sitting on the vehicles.  She was sort of confused by the large, dark roof that covered this "town."  (At one point, she even wanted to make a quick getaway through the wide open loading zone doorway.)  She had simply endured all that she could and knew good and well that this place for her did not equal fun.

Needless to say for our 3 year old, who by the way doesn't forget anything, this particular Friday family outing is without a doubt a faded memory.  No turning back for one last glimpse of the chemist or tobacconist or blacksmith or the actual working pub.  She was outta' there.

So, we resumed our Friday family outing at the park and playground by our house.  Definitely a sure thing for FUN!

Fun - check

More fun - check

A Meditation

We celebrated the Easter Offering Dedication Service last night for our Sunday evening worship. The Easter Offering is an annual mission emphasis for Women's Network of The Methodist Church. This order of service is crafted each year for churches to use, and the offering is taken for the Fund for World Mission.  Included within this service is a beautifully and faithfully written meditation.  I can take no credit, but I am compelled to share. 

HE WILL WALK

He will walk
A little in front of us
Towards Jerusalem

He will not be scared
Though we are apprehensive

If we try to discourage him,
He will recognise the devil in our voice,
And he will tell us as much
In no uncertain terms

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards Jerusalem.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Into controversy.

He will not be scared,
Though we are apprehensive.

He will argue with the intelligent,
Stop in their tracks the self-assured,
Touch the scabby,
Upset bank balances
By his outlandish behaviour in the sanctuary,
And weep in public.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards Jerusalem.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Into Gethsemane.

He will not be scared,
Though we are apprehensive.

He will sweat blood
And ask God if there is another way,
And when God says no,
He will take the traitor’s kiss,
The soldier’s spit
The bile and venom from the princes of religion.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards the cross.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Towards Calvary.

He will not be scared,
No,
He will not be scared.

He will feel the pain
Of wood and nails;
But more than this
He will feel the weight
of all the evil,
all the malice,
all the pettiness,
all the sin of the world
heaped upon his shoulders.
He will not throw off that weight
Though he could.

He will not give back evil for evil,
Return malice for malice,
Take revenge on the petty minded,
Or spew out hate
On all who have despised or rejected him.

He will not give back the sin of the world,
He will take it away…
Into death, into hell,
So that he can lead us into heaven.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards resurrection.

He will walk
A little behind us
Through the graveyard.

He will wait
Until we realize that he has died
And admit our complicity in his life’s ending.

Then he will come up behind us,
And say our name,
So that we can say his,
For ever.

(The Easter Offering service was prepared by Sandra Lewer, past President of Women’s Network, with the help of the Connexional Team’s Communication Office.)

A Village Procession

I exited the front doors of St. Mary's Church with the cross firmly in tow.  I followed the path through the church yard, entering Swan Street with my plain, black robe billowing in the misty breeze.

I traveled along the pavement (the sidewalk) in Kingsclere

past the hair salon

          past the gallery

                   past the cafe

                            past the grocery store

                                    past the butcher

                                            past the chemist

                                                     past the pub

until I reached St. Peter and St. Paul Church.

I entered the front doors and leaned the cross at the front.  This cross-bearing was profoundly strange and wonderful.  This was my own early start to Good Friday.

Then, our collective worship began, and we ushered in the truth and the darkness of the cross.  We prayed together.  We sang together.  We followed the cross together along the pavement on Swan Street

                                                       past the pub

                                             past the chemist

                                    past the butcher

                           past the grocery store

                  past the cafe

          past the gallery

past the hair salon

until we reached St. Mary's Church yard.

"It is finished."

One by one the Good Friday crowd placed red carnations at the foot of the same cross that had quietly and prominently led our procession.  The bed of red carnations organically (and unexpectedly) formed into the shape of a prickly crown of thorns beneath the cross.  There was no turning back.  We were living into the memory of our crucified Lord.

It was finished...

but it was not the end.

The red carnation crown of thorns formed by the hands of humanity was transformed into a never-ending ring of snowy white, resurrection lilies, bearing witness to our God of life and our risen Lord.

In the end, it wasn't just a Good Friday procession of life-draining finality.  It was a procession aiming in the direction of life-giving grace and salvation for an Easter people.  That is where our walk along Swan Street would ultimately take us--to the empty tomb, to the resurrection, to hope, to life!

Christ is risen!

Christ is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

A Toe-Tapping Palm Sunday

It wasn't until this past Sunday that I realized I had not really planned or been involved in a more traditional observance of Palm Sunday in five years. You know...the donkey, the road, the Hosannas, the waving palms, and the little children.  In fact, last year I missed out all together because my Palm Sunday involved high fever, aching body, and full blown influenza.

In recent years (other than the last), I have been privileged to share in the Cashiers UMC choir presentation on Palm Sunday.  And what a faithful presentation they offer thanks to Tom Adams (director of music) and Bryan Heller (pianist) and many wonderful choir singers and musicians.  (Although no longer present in Cashiers, I was still able to read online about the powerful message that was offered by the choir once again.)

With this said, my new location this year afforded me the opportunity to share in Palm Sunday with all of its traditional elements as well as some new experiences too.  Thatcham Methodist Church joined with St. Barnabas Church (Anglican) for the morning.  Many of us gathered half an hour early to prepare for our Palm Sunday processional between the two churches.  I had never before processed outdoors on Palm Sunday.  A cross led the way.  We followed along the roads of Thatcham, bearing witness through action of our allegiance to Jesus the King.

Our ecumenical worship enhanced the celebratory and joyful spirit of Palm Sunday, and we altogether were blessed, especially with the parade of children.  In they came, waving their paper towel roll/shredded newspaper palm branches, and they were proclaiming, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming!  Hosanna!  Jesus is coming!"

As a pastor, it was a joy to see and experience such an uplifting and contagious act of worship.  As a mother, it was simply beautiful to watch my daughter with her palm branch in hand, proclaiming the announcement, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming," while grinning from ear to ear.  And how wonderful that those very words, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming," have been echoing in our home and in our cars and in our lives ever since she marched alongside her Sunday school friends on Palm Sunday morning!

Thankfully, my Palm Sunday did not end there.  I finished out the day with an evening service for the older adults and community friends at the local sheltered housing facility in Kingsclere.  With service sheet in one hand and the paper towel roll/shredded newspaper palm branch in the other, I entered for another Palm Sunday celebration.  We opened with our own "Hosannas!" We reflected upon Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  And we sang lots and lots of hymns, which are chosen by this residential community for the services.

As meaningful as it was for me to be leading the Palm Sunday worship service that evening, the highlight came while we were singing our closing hymn, Onward, Christian Soldiers.  If I must be truthful, this probably would not have been one of my song picks for Palm Sunday had I been doing the choosing, but there is no doubt that this hymn, its sound, and its rhythm strike a particular cord and resonate well with this faithful generation of Christians.

"Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before," we proclaimed in song.  And then I noticed it:  the rhythmic toe-tapping.  Almost everyone had at least one foot moving to the marching beat.  Although a moment shared only with myself in my own thoughts, it too was an uplifting and contagious Palm Sunday act of worship.  We marched together, as if on the road!  We marched together, as followers of Jesus the King!  And you can imagine that I marched my way right out of Rose Hodson Court with thanksgiving for this wonderful, toe-tapping Palm Sunday!

Scenic Journey

Once again, I have been away from this "riverbank" of reflection too long, allowing too many weeks to pass in rather a blur.  Thanks to springtime I have regained an awareness and sensitivity to daily life that can so often be suppressed.

We have spent more time outside in March and April (so far) since they have brought dry and sunny instead wet and cloudy.  We have taken advantage of the well-planned walking paths, the warmth, and the long days.  And, oh, what we have seen along the way!

Lots and lots of daffodils!

Hippopotami at Marwell Zoo!

Pristine gardens at Hampton Court Palace!

Sunny afternoons at the pub!

And adorable little lambs!

Yes!  Oh, what we have seen along the way!  How could I not be sensitive and aware of this scenery, especially when accompanied by a very willing and curious  3 year old who LOVES to walk anywhere at anytime?  It has been warm and exciting and bright and wonderful and engaging and freeing and experiential and fun!  And I anticipate so much more beauty along this ongoing, scenic journey!

New Experience

I am not quite sure how two weeks have already passed since Ash Wednesday. This means that we are two weeks into Lent...and two weeks closer to Easter! It has been a busy two weeks.

We hosted additional guests from the US, as they arrived on Ash Wednesday!

We celebrated the birthday of our very happy 3 year daughter!

And I spoke for the Women's World Day of Prayer gathering in the Thatcham community!

I happily accepted the invitation for this a couple of months ago. It was something that I had not experienced previously. I was not familiar with this event and had never participated in its annual day, and I am very pleased to have had the new experience!

The 2009 worship liturgy for the Women's World Day of Prayer was crafted by women of Papua New Guinea and was shared by people throughout the world. From Tonga at the start to the far stretches of Alaska at the close, people joined in the spirit of worship to connect the global body of Christ. We allowed Romans 12 to guide our thoughts through the theme of unity: "In Christ There Are Many Members Yet One Body." I was excited to participate!

As women, men, and children joined together on this evening, we benefited from the global nature of this Day by learning about our sisters and brothers in Papua New Guinea. We oriented ourselves to the location of this island. We viewed photos of its tropical and mountainous terrain. We were exposed to the practices particularly of women in daily life. We expanded our lives in faith amidst the far-reaching yet meaningful encounter with Christians on the other side of the globe.

And we did all of this by gathering and worshipping!! What a wonderful celebration!

In closing, I will share the prayers of thanksgiving from the worship service--only one example of the faithful expressions offered in the liturgy.

We thank you Lord for the unity and wholeness of the human body. We especially thank you for all our senses whereby we come to know the world and one another. Our hearts are full of gratitude for the gift of life.

We give thanks for the gifts that differ according to the grace given to us.

We thank you Lord for the gift of Jesus, the Christ, who lived among us, who suffered and died and who rose again that we would have life more abundantly. We are grateful for the empowering message of the Gospel that we are to love one another. May the unity that we have in Christ be experienced in every aspect of our lives, our families, our clans, our tribes and communities, our countries and the world.

We give thanks for a genuine Christlike love.

We thank you Lord for directing our lives. We are grateful for those who hold fast to what is good: those who advocate justice for the least, the oppressed and the marginalised in our society; those who speak truth to the powerful; those who share generously; those who are compassionate to all. By the power of your Spirit enable us to make necessary changes in our lives with hope, now and forever.

We give thanks for the gifts that differ according to the grace given to us.

We thank you Lord for those who lead with diligence, mindful of the good of all and not of their own special interests. We thank you for giving us opportunities to use our leadership qualities. We remember our leaders--the able and dedicated men and women in the government, in the private sector and in non-governmental organisations. Lord, we thank you also for changing the hearts of men to recognise and value the leadership of women in Papua New Guinea.

We give you thanks for a genuine Christlike love.

Amen!

And thank you to our faithful friends in Papua New Guinea!

Ash Wednesday

I appreciate Ash Wednesday.  Not only do I find the liturgical practices on this day very meaningful but I remember it because it was the day in 2006 when our lives were forever profoundly changed.  My daughter was an Ash Wednesday baby.  Although it is a different day each year and doesn't necessarily coincide with her birthday, I have yet to experience Ash Wednesday in the same way as before.

I think about how this holy day calls Christians to penitential practice and to a discipline of active searching.  These practices and disciplines call us to something greater for God.  They shape and re-create and transform us into Easter people--into people who seek life in the midst of a world that would like to try otherwise.  There is certainly something amazing about being called to something greater for God, as we journey from Ash Wednesday into Easter.  And in 2006, Timothy and I certainly claimed life and began new practices and disciplines.

I shared a reflection with the churches recently about what it might mean for our lives of faith, especially during Lent, if we avail ourselves of practices and disciplines and just plain ministry.  So, as I give thanks for Ash Wednesday (and for my beautiful, little gift of life), I will share my reflections and hope that Lent will be a time of growth and life for those who are open to God's working among us.

I journeyed along the M4 carefully following the directions from the sat nav. I really do know the way to Gatwick Airport, but I still use the navigational crutch. I made all the correct moves along the way, and once I was about 4.5 miles and 10 minutes away from the airport, the traffic stopped. All three lanes were at a standstill—bumper to bumper to bumper. The waiting persisted to such an extent that people began to walk along the motorway, rolling their luggage behind them. No doubt there were flights that could not be missed.

After about 50 minutes of sitting without any advancing whatsoever, I had convinced myself that my parents would have been waiting so long that they were already slowly sipping a cup of coffee in my absence. I hated the idea of not being there when they crossed the international arrival threshold. But, there was nothing I could do until the driving resumed. And finally it did.

I moved safely but swiftly through the now moving auto traffic and parked in the first space I could find. I raced into the airport and moved in what seemed like slow motion through the people traffic, searching intently without success for two familiar faces. I was rather relieved at that point and began to regain my hope of greeting my parents just as I had in mind. I settled into a spot, and while slightly winded, I began to wait (again). It was then that I heard a public announcement over the speaker system.

“A service of Holy Communion will begin in the airport chapel at 10:30.”

Amidst the controlled breaths and the continued waiting, I thought to myself, “Did I just hear an announcement about Holy Communion? Yes, I most certainly did.” Then, I began to wonder. Who will be presiding at that service? And more interestingly, will anyone actually attend that service (either a traveler or an airport employee)? At that moment, I was most curious as to whether or not people would go to a worship service at the airport. I guess that they wouldn’t provide one if people didn’t go, but I still wondered. Where is the chapel? Would it be easy to locate? And ultimately, will anyone go to the trouble to find out?

Being that an airport is a place of rushing, running, ranting, and roaming (and I speak from experience at least with the former two), it seems that a person would really have to be intentional about attending a service of Holy Communion in between the comings and the goings—the departures and the arrivals—the hurrying and the waiting. It seems that a person would diligently have to make the worship service fit into their travel plans or into their workday. It seems that person would have to consider Holy Communion an important enough priority to slow down long enough to attend especially in a place that seems more like the antithesis of slow down.

In these brief couple of moments, my wondering not only helped to pass the time until I greeted those two familiar faces, but also it gave me rich food for further thought. I would go so far as to say that probably in our everyday lives we very well relate to the aforementioned rushing, running, ranting, and roaming; yet, more often than not, these things are probably not happening with us inside an airport. Maybe, then, the question of whether or not someone will attend a Holy Communion service in Gatwick Airport isn’t too far off from questions that arise in our own journeys of faith. Maybe our own experiences and the choices that we make lend themselves to the same demands for intentionality, diligence, and priority.

I think that in some way this provides food for thought that is a catalyst for our own self-reflection in the season of Lent. Are we intentional and diligent in our practices of faith? How do we choose what does or does not fit into our busy days? Do we make the things of our Christian journey priorities in the everyday? If not, what is hindering us, holding us back, or keeping us away? These are questions that may very well challenge us in the season of Lent to recognize our need for God and in turn cause us to reclaim the practices of faith that help us to find God at all in our lives. Through intentionality, diligence, and priority, we might just realize that we are actually moving closer to God and experiencing God’s love and grace in more profound ways.

What are you doing or not doing that works well? What are the aspects of everyday life that make involvement in faithful practices easier or more difficult? Are you able to identify intentionality, diligence, and priority amidst life with God? Such questions are at the heart of our calling as disciples and may very well help us to take care in the choices we make so that we are able to grow through faithful practice. Ultimately, we must avail ourselves of opportunities. So as we journey with Jesus along the way in Lent and prepare ourselves for Easter, take time to reflect upon your faith, to think about your choices, and to consider the practices that help you to keep God at the center of the everyday despite the rushing, running, ranting, and roaming. Peace be with you!

[If you happen to be curious, I have since learned the following on the Gatwick Airport website: “The South Terminal chapel is on the Gatwick Village level near Caffè Nero (before security), and is open to people of all faiths for private prayer and meditation. Christian services are held regularly on Sundays and weekdays by the Anglican, Roman Catholic and Free Church chaplains. Services usually last 25 minutes, and details of forthcoming services are posted on the noticeboard outside the chapel. There is also a chapel in the North Terminal, next to international arrivals (before security).”]

Feeling Caught

It is a sunny and mild Friday in England, and I am enjoying a quiet couple of hours while the two year old is asleep. We have already been for a walk just down the street to Burdwood Surgery (the health clinic) for my daughter's latest thumb check. (This has been an ongoing part of our routine since her thumb came between the door and door frame of a cupboard at nursery last week, and for the record, it is definitely healing but rather slowly.) We have already ventured out to the petrol station to fill up the tank in my car. It has been a very low key day.

While I was finishing at the petrol station and trying to decide where we would go next, my daughter promptly fell asleep. This, of course, meant that I would accomplish nothing else in the immediate time. A nap is definitely priority number one, so here we are back at the house.

There is the soundly sleeping toddler and the mother who is putting the other stuff of the day on hold. The shopping will wait. The afternoon walk at the Roman wall will wait. So, I find myself with a bit of time, and I have decided to use it for this blog that has certainly been waiting in recent weeks. I realize that with blogging practice as well as with many other aspects of everyday life I often feel caught.

Caught between having the time and choosing to take the time.

Caught between accomplishing things that I need to do and things that I want to do.

Caught between writing these reflections and ticking off some things from the ongoing to-do list.

I rarely feel free of this pull from in between. The tricky thing about this potentially unsettling pull is that there is more than just the demands of the everyday. There are more impacting situations of people and relationship--of past and future. And it seems with these at the heart that the pull intensifies and life becomes even more complicated. I then find myself very conflicted in the midst of the pull with a deep desire for resolution and peace. So, I do very often find myself feeling caught.

Caught between the pull and the need for resolution.

Caught between wanting to fix things and really having no control over things at all.

Caught between life today and life tomorrow.

Lately, I have experienced the vast cavern between broken relationship. It is sad and painful. I without a doubt feel caught between divided sides, and there is absolutely nothing I am able to do to change this. With this truth on my mind and on my heart, it becomes all too obvious that the pull from in between intensifies and life is officially complicated. I can offer love and compassion but have no control over the ins and outs and ups and downs. And I can see in the immediate future that the complications will only perpetuate. I can't help but feel caught.

As I have been writing and reflecting on this truth in my life, I have been watching and listening to the sleeping toddler. Although these glimpses of her do not erase the reality of my feeling caught, they certainly do remind me that there is peace--a peace that waits even when we aren't always able to find it. I may rarely feel free of this pull from in between, but I am able to claim some peace along the way. And for this I am grateful.

Now I will set the reflections aside for awhile and prepare for the toddler to wake up. I may on some level feel caught between the things of life, but today there is a full-of-possibility afternoon that is before us. The sun is still shining. The plans are still waiting. I must be ready to claim a bit of this peace and enjoy it with her as freely as possible from the pull of the in between.

Okay, so I could not resist...(and now you

are able to see the evidence of the thumb).

Changing Course

It is hard for me to think that almost six months have passed since we packed up our lives, said goodbye to North Carolina along with our family and friends, and arrived in England.  Timothy, Laura-Clare, and I disembarked the plane in London and embarked on quite an adventure.  It has certainly been one filled with excitement, adjustment, surprises, fun, learning, and joy!  We have been living a dream and experiencing life and ministry in Thatcham and beyond and in The Methodist Church.  We anticipated much in our coming here and have encountered even more, and for this I am truly grateful.

Although we have been immensely blessed, this time has not been without important personal reflection.  While maneuvering this adventure, we have been faced with discernment and decisions.  Along the way, I expressed to Timothy my own uncertainty about the duration of our time in England.  I began to recognize that I couldn't really envision this family experience into the more distant future.

It was at this point that we found ourselves in the midst of particular discernment and decision-making, and it was in my being honest that I began to understand with more clarity.   It became clear that our original plans would need to change, and so through prayerful consideration, Timothy and I met one another in a new, shared vision for our family's future.

We decided that we would claim this year on its own as our great England adventure and that we would make plans to return to North Carolina in the late spring.  It was the right decision to make but a very difficult truth to tell.  Honesty is not always an easy practice, but fortunately, we have been met with love.  I have expressed my appreciation to the Circuit and the churches, as they have responded to the news of our departure, and the following is a portion of what I wrote for the most recent church newsletters.

  "Please know that we did not come to this conclusion without much prayer and searching. We did not intend for our experiences here to turn in this direction, but in being honest with ourselves and with one another, we found it necessary to change our plans.  We certainly do understand that our decision impacts the ministry life of the church and the Circuit for the future, but we continue to trust in our God who is faithful and hope that you will do the same.
  I am humbled by your kindness and compassion in light of our situation, and I will appreciate your continued prayers, as I will hold you prayerfully close at heart as well.  I thank you for the time that I have had in Kingsclere Methodist Church and Thatcham Methodist Church, and I look forward to sharing ministry with you for the time ahead.  May God bless you in your faithful service."

As we have shared our story and disclosed our plans, we have truly been met with nothing but compassion and concern.  We have been offered Christly kindness and respect.  And we are thankful for the body of Christ that stretches far and wide, especially throughout this portion of south England.  Our first-hand knowledge of this far-reaching love is a gift!  I have received an outpouring of support from folks, but one email in particular has meant a lot to me and expresses so beautifully what I have felt so often amidst this experience. (It will remain anonymous.)

            "It seems it's all change again, and just wanted you to know you are in our thoughts and prayers.  Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help with your smooth return home.  Amy, in your short time with us you have been a breath of fresh air and I hope you feel the experience has had some upside.  This is a crowded island we live on and as [we] have travelled the world, we have become increasingly aware that the wider UK population rarely appreciates or supports its Christian heritage.  We try to teach [our family] that they have a lot to learn by broadening their horizons and to try new experiences is better than not to try at all."

I deeply appreciate receiving this email, knowing the foundation of faith on which it rests.  It exemplifies the very loving kindness and compassion that I have been offered since the moment I arrived.  These generous words also say something particular to me about this journey and about what we are able to learn from others within another cultural context.

I have been profoundly enriched by living my faith in south England, and I can't help but believe and reiterate the words, "[T]o try new experiences is better than not to try at all."  Yes, yes! And so I will make the most of our time in England before changing course and returning to North Carolina at the end of May, and I will be thankful for how it has helped to shape profoundly my life and faith!

Watching (Not So Intently), But Watching

We shortened Laura-Clare's day at nursery school so that we wouldn't miss the Inauguration. I usually pick her up just a few minutes before 5 p.m., and being that we are five hours ahead of EST, I would have missed the event completely had I been in transit (especially since the main road that links my route is CLOSED - ugghh!).

On the way home, Laura-Clare and I discussed President-elect Obama.  I explained that there would be a new US President (she was not really following), and so I offered her something that she understands the best.  I told her about the Obama family.  I explained that the new President and the First Lady are the daddy and mommy to two little girls.  She responded, "Who?"  I told her about their daughters, and she said, "Can they come to my house and play?"  I made no promises but with a grin reveled in that image for a moment.

So, upon arrival at the house, we positioned ourselves in front of the television to watch the events unfold.  And amidst her comings and goings, we showed Laura-Clare the two little Obama girls, and we witnessed the Inauguration.  As documented below, she watched and made it through but not without several requests along the way for her "little girl shows."  Nothing personal, Mr. President!!

President Barack Obama

Vice President Joe Biden

I Will Tell Her!

I am watching the events of this Inauguration Day at a distance; yet, amazingly my being in England feels no farther away than if I were in North Carolina. Global communication and media access really do blur the miles. So, I will witness the live coverage today, as Barack Obama officially becomes the President of the United States.

I will share the occasion with my husband and my two year old. We will celebrate and always remember where we were when! And we will claim this memory for Laura-Clare as well and recount the events for her when she is older! After all, this is an occasion not to be missed, and this is a course of history for which we should be thankful! No doubt, I will tell her! Yet, there are some things about today that I would rather her not know.

I don't really want her to know that there are people who think their political opinions are more important than the historic milestone that is this Inauguration Day. I don't want her to know that people are more interested in criticizing on a day like today than respecting the monumental occasion that it is. I don't want her to know that people are so self-revolving that they think our election of the first African-American President is of little significance.

I read a troubling Facebook status this morning of a person who is more concerned about calculating numbers in order to prove a political point than about setting aside opinions in order to be respectful of people and of history in the making. I find myself rather concerned about this spirit of negativity and hopelessness. Okay, so I really don't take Facebook statuses that seriously; yet, I can't help but think even beyond the Facebook status about this person's voice of skepticism, criticism, and (I suspect) racism.

I am certainly not suggesting in my own reflection that judgment or division are appropriate even though I am concerned about the message being offered by this person. But, honestly, I don't want my daughter to know this voice.

Instead, I will tell her where she was when President Barack Obama stood before the world and committed his life to service, to hope, and to change! I will tell her what his election means for a country that has been plagued by racial injustice! I will tell her that no matter what our race, our background, our opinions, or even our Facebook status we do not divide ourselves from anyone!

This is a day that I will celebrate! And I will tell her!

Change!

With permission, I am posting a piece written by my husband, Timothy Moore. I am grateful for his reflections and feel compelled to share them. Although it was crafted several months ago during the election season, it is timely for this MLK day and for this Barack Obama pre-inauguration day. Let us celebrate realized hope and hope that has yet to be realized!

Change!

Rosa sat so Martin could walk,
Martin walked so Obama could run,
Obama ran so our children can fly!

This viral text message began circulating, first, around the United States and, then, around the whole world the morning following Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president of the United States. The text message captures a sentiment, an emotion, a hope defining Obama’s election. His election has taken on mythic qualities. Images of long lines of young and old, rich and poor, black and white, the frequent voter and the first-time balloter were everywhere. Something different had taken place. Whether conservative or liberal, American or not, we all can recognize the significance of that vote. Obama’s election tapped into something deeply felt, patiently yearned for, thought lost yet waiting to be found.

On one day, it was as if an entire society awoke from a forty year slumber to be reminded that freedom is not just a dream to be hoped for but a life to be lived. Such a life does not happen by accident but through intentional, direct action. Sometimes that action is in the form of dramatic stands taken despite the threat of social discomfort, familial rejection, police dogs, and assassin’s bullets. Sometimes that action is a very visible, public spectacle.

Yet, with this election, we were reminded that sometimes that action is less dramatic, less public. It might seem to be less profound. It takes place with a door being knocked, a phone call made, a conversation had, an email sent. It takes place in the solitude of a voting booth. It begins with one pen marking a ballot, one finger on a touch screen, one hand on a lever.

And, in that solitary moment, one heart’s desire for something radically new is transferred from distant dream to present reality. A vote becomes the incarnation of hope springing from a single soul. Slowly one becomes two become four become a chorus of 66 million souls crying out that forty years has been long enough, rousing the slumbering giant of freedom, signaling for a new generation that faith truly is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not—yet—seen.

Obama’s election marks forty years since Martin Luther King, Jr.’s voice fell silent, reminding us that dreams of liberation don’t always come right away. But, for the church, we shouldn’t be surprised by this story. It is one we’ve heard before.

When Moses went to confront the Pharaoh to demand God’s people’s liberation, liberation did not come easily. It took plagues. It took persuasion. It took determination. It took time. Then, after a change of heart, Pharaoh consented and let God’s people go. Yet, after Moses secured the liberation of God’s people from the bonds of slavery in Egypt, he realized that while their bodies were free their souls were not ready. They might be walking towards the Promised Land but their hearts remained captive to the land of the past not equipped for the promised future. It would take time. So Israel marched.

They marched from forty years. Forty years of prayer. Forty years of preparation. Forty years of wandering. Forty years of waiting, waiting for their moment and the next generation to lead them into the Promised Land.

Along came Joshua. Joshua offered a new hope. The hope was not just the future hope of a liberation that might come one day but the promise of liberation delivered, today. Sand became salvation as wilderness became water—the waters of the Jordan River. By wading through the Jordan, Israel moved from the shadow of their past into the dawn of a new day, a present future. In those waters, Israel washed away the old, making way for the new.

Forty years had passed. Forty years used to make a people ready for liberation.

With this U.S. election, the church finds itself in an interesting position. For the first time in years people are publicly expressing transcendent exaltation. They are speaking about the real, tangible call for hope’s manifestation in identifiable ways. Average, non-churched people are speaking our language; they are speaking the church’s language. They are crying not just for the possibility of new hope but the material signs of it. That is where we come in.

If the church is anything, we are the purveyors of a story of hope, a hope in the liberation that comes through the life and death of Jesus Christ. This hope is not just some ethereal, dreamy, distant state. It is a real, physical, different-making story. It is the story of a God that is not satisfied with the status quo, a God who is not happy with how things have been, a God who demands a radical change in our politics, in our economies, in our families, in societies, in us. It is the story about liberation of the heart, soul, and body. It is the story of liberation demanding in real-time for the real world that “justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

Our story—the Christ story—is a story about a world-changing, people-liberating, hope-incarnating God. It is the story that just might be the very story for which the world has been waiting and needing to hear. It is the story we are all ready to hear.

The events of this November’s election in the U.S. are a concrete reminder that what people are interested in are not uncertain time frames of possible future promises but present arrivals at the shores of change. Such change will not happen by accident. Neither will the church’s poignant narrative of liberation be heard if it is not offered and intentionally woven together with cries from the waving fabric of humanity ready for change.

What appropriate, timely viral text message might the church have to offer in response to Obama’s election and the world’s hopeful cries? This one might do.

Moses spoke to the power of Pharaoh.
Martin spoke to the Powers that Be.
Joshua led from wandering to winning.
Barack leads from winning to wondering.
Wondering: What does the Promise expect of me?

Welcome, birthdays!

We just returned from a wonderful, much-needed vacation to the Scottish Highlands. We spent 9 days just outside of Grantown-on-Spey and Aberlour right along the whisky trail and even reconnected with dear friends in our old stomping grounds of St. Andrews. We had been to the Highlands previously but only for short breaks at different destinations. So, an extended stay was a lovely change of pace. We were more than happy to spend the long, dark mornings by the fire and the long, dark evenings by the fire. And in between during the short, windy days, we explored beyond the fireplace.

In addition to the joy of a relaxing, family vacation, we had reason to celebrate. It was the Amy and Timothy birthday season. It was a very special experience to celebrate our respective birthdays in the Highlands of Scotland and to welcome 35 in such a memorable way!! Highlands or not--wonderful memories or not, I still can't help but stumble ever so slightly along the number 35 and wonder if I could really possibly be talking about myself.

I have always thought that only other people should be in their thirties, not me. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt this about your particular age? I guess it is all about a perception of age really, and for some reason, I find it rather difficult to perceive myself as a thirty-something year old. I can see my sister as a thirty-something year old. I can see my brothers-in-law as thirty-something year olds. But me? When did this happen...? Okay, so I know when it has happened because it happens every year at the same time, but somehow I still feel like a twenty-something that has fit a thirty-something worth of stuff into her life.

Yes, it happens every year at the same time on January 9th. My birthday roles around 15 days after Christmas while everyone is very comfortably in a post-Advent/Christmas/New Year fog. If not careful, this January 9th birthday of mine can be very sneaky. Generally, people are very kind to remember me in the midst of the post-seasonal madness, especially my hubby, who happens to share my birthday one day delayed. Being that Timothy celebrates his birthday on January 10th, he understands all too well what it means to welcome a new birthday year in the midst of seasonal haze.

At this point, I am not sure how either of us can really be 35. It's not that I think 35 is old, but it is in some strange way that percieved age of other people. Maybe it isn't so much the age as it is all of the adult things that go along with 35 for us. Maybe it is the vocational life in ordained ministry (i.e. full time jobs). Maybe it is the picking up and moving thousands of miles from home. Maybe it is the almost 13 years of marriage, 17 years of commitment. and 18 years of friendship. Maybe it is the home mortgage. Maybe it is the almost 3 year old in our household. Yes, maybe it is the almost 3 year old...

Now that I think about it, maybe it has less to do with the actual number and more to do with the circumstances and responsibilities of life that we claim at 35. And in the midst of it all, my hope is to hold firmly to my carefree, exciting twenty-something spirit that I remember so vividly while at the same time being a joyful, responsible adult, wife, and mother. Without a doubt, I have welcomed 35 with a grateful heart, and despite the strange perception that it brings, I happily share it with my wonderful and generous husband and give thanks for our journey together.

As I once again watched January 9th and 10th come and go with a beautiful view of the hills of Scotland before me, I realized that our soon-to-be 3 year old was more excited about our birthdays than we were. My perceptions didn't matter. She didn't care if it was 35 or 350. The age was irrelevant to her. Birthdays to her no matter what the year are just plain thrilling!! We drew from her energy and welcomed 35 with even more thankfulness!

And now she is waiting with excitment for her own special day! When that time comes, we will happily welcome yet another birthday and will be the responsible, 35 year old adults, who make the practices of birthday joy come to life for the newly 3 year old girl! Welcome, birthdays!