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).