The Cross at the Center

It is simply a few weeks now until I complete my ministry service at Cashiers UMC.  I am teetering between North Carolina and England, and my heart is caught in the middle.  I shared some final words with the congregation in our June newsletter, which I have included below.

My eyes were drawn to its rainbow of colors—to its mesmerizing pattern. I actually saw the small shapes instead of only the large image. With the rays of the morning sun, I felt a warmth from the streams of glowing light. The details caught my attention, as if for the very first time. The sanctuary cross definitely finds a prominent place among us, and hopefully we do occasionally see it with a new perspective. I most certainly did.

While hearing the sounds of worship, I noticed. I caught a new glimpse. I received that image of the stained glass cross and all of its truth with new perspective. Although I have seen it numerous times before, it really was as if I was seeing it for the first time. I reflected on those small shapes, thinking about their purpose in forming the larger shape of the cross. I reflected on their different directions. I reflected on their distinct colors. God invited me through this fresh encounter with the cross to consider the life and shape of the body of Christ.

Then, I heard that little voice of Avery Morgan. She was before us, awaiting the waters of baptism. She was looking at all of us, and she was truly thinking her baby thoughts out loud. We all were watching and listening, as the water trickled down her head and her expressions traveled throughout the sanctuary. As she was carried towards the aisle to receive her special welcome into the body of Christ, her eyes were drawn to that brightly glowing cross, and in an instant she was silent. She noticed and caught a glimpse.

In this moment, I knew with even more certainty that this cross tells us something of the life and shape of the body of Christ. It tells us that even a little baby is welcome. It tells us that we are able to find our place differences and all. It tells us that our lives of faith are joined one by one by one. It tells us that there is more than enough room for each of us and for others.

As I prepare for my departure this month, I am grateful that the cross of Christ joined me with you and you with me. I am grateful that I found my place in the part of the body of Christ that is Cashiers UMC. By your faithful witness and practice, you have given me more than enough reason to trust that the body of Christ offers hospitality and kindness. This is immensely encouraging, as I finalize my plans to move to England and to find my new place in the body of Christ. I hold this truth of the cross close at heart and find comfort in the midst of transition.

It has been a joyous four years, and I sincerely thank you for sharing faith, ministry, and friendship. I deeply appreciate the time that I have had in ministry with you. I will hold dear the memories and will cherish our life together. I will depart knowing that I have formatively experienced the love of Jesus Christ in Cashiers UMC. And this formation will be a blessing, as I carry out pastoral ministry in England in Thatcham Methodist Church and Kingsclere Methodist Church.

I will be at Cashiers UMC until Sunday, June 22nd, and then I will close out my time in ministry that week with the youth on the summer mission trip. We will leave for England on August 6th and will begin our new ministry appointments on September 1st.

With the brightly glowing cross in the forefront, I will trust. I will give thanks. I will be sad. I will be excited. I will look back. I will look ahead. I will love. I hope that I will forever see the rainbow of colors, the mesmerizing pattern, and those unique shapes. I hope that the image of the cross will throughout my journey of faith bring me into moments of humbling silence. I hope that the streams of light will always offer comforting warmth. I hope that my memory of this cross will remind me over and over that there is more than enough room in the body of Christ. May we continue to catch a glimpse of this brightly glowing cross and know that it binds our lives together forever in the name of Jesus Christ.

Thankfully, I have a place in the body of Christ right now in North Carolina, and with trust I look forward to my place in the body of Christ in England.

One Hand and Three Fingers

I am now able to count on one hand the number of times that I will preach at Cashiers UMC before I complete my service on June 24th—three times to be exact.  It seems strange not only because it signifies the ending of a 4-year tenure in Cashiers but because I have been preaching unusually often lately.

My colleague in ministry has been away on a 6-week sabbatical (this partly explains my delay in blog-posting), so I have been solely responsible for the preaching and worship leadership amongst other things.   It has been a busy time but a gratifying time.   I have been sprinting from sermon to sermon; yet, I have now slowed to a single digit jog.

I am presently planning for the three—two Wednesdays and one Sunday—at Cashiers UMC. Yet, I am also to some degree planning for the quarterly preaching plan in the Newbury & Hungerford Circuit.  I have begun to think about this schedule because of recent correspondence with the Circuit Superintendent.  As strange as it may seem from this end of the Atlantic, obviously, he will be including me in the preaching rotation.

On September 1st, the sermon count will start all over again.  Until then, I will keep my eyes fixed firmly on one hand and three fingers.

Practicing Hospitality

For many, the far-flung village of Glenville is a holiday destination.

Nestled in the Appalachian mountains Glenville is home to the highest (3492 feet) large body of water in the Eastern US.  It has unique history.  The climate is near perfect.  The mountains are peaceful and beautiful.  The skies are bluer than blue.  The lake offers limitless outdoor fun. How could it not be inviting to people!

For my family, Glenville is simply home.

Yet, it is great when holiday destination and home intertwine.  It provides unique opportunity for hospitality.  And this practice of hospitality is important for my family of three.  It is at the core of our lives together--our lives in ministry--our lives of faith.

I understand hospitality to mean having a welcoming spirit and being open to others.  If we are hospitable, we are willing to set ourselves aside for someone else.  It often demands generosity, selflessness, and maybe even sacrifice.

I intentionally make every effort to claim this spirit of hospitality not just because it is a nice thing to do.  I seek to be hospitable because I identify myself through God's narrative, a narrative of openness, generosity, selflessness, and yes sacrifice.

Admittedly, these characteristics of hospitality don't just happen.  We may be given through God's grace the mind and eyes to know, but it really takes practice to be open, generous, and selfless.  Ultimately, when this grace and practice find rhythm together, setting oneself aside for another becomes a privilege and a gift.

My family experiences this giftedness when we are able to offer hospitality, especially in our Glenville home.  We will joyfully host several sets of visitors in Glenville in the coming weeks, and so we will offer hospitality a little bit more in this mountain destination.  We certainly want to stay in good practice.  We want to hone our skills.  We want to ready ourselves for the next destination spot that will become our home.  And I am so excited!!

I am excited for my life to bear witness to the hospitable character of God, but I am also excited about the opportunity to extend hospitality to family and friends in England!  What a privilege and a gift this will be!

Pink Flowers

My dogwood tree has two pink flowers!

Champion of Change

My days are filled with the truth of change.

My husband and I are noticing the effects of change. We learned that we would be able to live a dream and move to England.

Cashiers United Methodist Church is noticing the effects of change. I announced my departure, and my colleague announced his six-week sabbatical.

The Wesley Foundation is noticing the effects of change. My husband and the students are anticipating the close of this semester and the inevitable goodbyes.

My two year old daughter is noticing the effects of change. Just days ago she began the new journey of night time sleep without her pacifiers.

In the midst of it all, my daughter is undoubtedly the champion of change.

To be very honest, I am not sure who misses the pacifiers more, my daughter or her mother.

My own separation anxiety does not arise out of the minimal restlessness at night in the time before sleep; instead, it finds its way through my not too distant memories (last weekend in fact) of that little mouth and those little hands clutching those little pacies.

Admittedly, I shed tears even thinking about it. I recall the constant and careful rotation, as we would sit and read. From right hand to mouth to left hand and back again, the pacies would move as if on an amusement park ride. Yes, tears. But, tears of joy and new life.

Somehow the changes in life for me, as monumental as they really may be, pale in comparison when seeing through little girl eyes--when remembering the goodness of pacifiers. I am a grateful mother. And my daughter is truly the champion of change!

Moments of Surprise...Over and Over

I scared the turkeys away this morning when I stepped onto the back porch.  I watched and listened to them fade away into the hill.  I, also, caught a lengthy glimpse of a beautiful woodpecker on a tree.  It changed its course before my daughter could see it for herself, but we discussed its visit.  If it is not a moment with the turkeys or woodpeckers, it's a moment with the deer or owl or bear or hummingbirds.

For some reason, moments such as these continue to surprise me.  Even after four years of living on a secluded mountain, I somehow have these experiences over and over, as if for the very first time.  I guess this is the undeniable city girl in me.

When we moved to Glenville, I didn't have any concept of darkness.  I had always lived in places where street lights illumined the night.  To be honest, I know now that I had never really seen stars and certainly not a shooting star streaming across the nighttime.

Every time there is a full moon, as there has been lately, like clockwork I ask my husband the same question, "Did you see the full moon?"  Really, his response should be, "Of course...  How could I not see it on this dark mountain."  But, he always graciously says, "Yes."  Then without fail, I respond, "Oh, isn't it gorgeous?!"

I deeply appreciate the beauty of the mountains, and I treasure every surprise moment that I experience over and over.  Yet, I still can't deny the city girl in me.

Thatcham, England

Our home-to-be in Thatcham!!