FROM Scotland, Ant Therapy and a Heavy Heart

After a particularly long and hard week a few years ago, a colleague asked me how I was doing.  I thought about all the tragic news in the world that had intensified during that past week...I thought about members of the church community who were facing great suffering...I thought about my own circumstances and took a deep breath and said - I have a heavy heart.

That dear colleague asked her daughter (an artist who works with stone and metal) to make a heavy heart for me from welded metal and stone.  It is indeed very heavy - as is my heart today.  The news from around the world and from this country weigh my heart down like it is made of iron and stone.  

Cyclone Idai and its unprecedented devastation was high on my radar as soon as I heard that Malawi was involved.  God forgive me for not having my heart race before hearing about Malawi - the devastation alone should have made me weep for the people of Mozambique and Zimbabwe. But the story was competing for my attention and tears with the shooting in New Zealand - I couldn't manage to get my head around both of them plus what was happening politically in America and the UK.

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Then I heard Malawi - and my first thought was Tracy and her family.  Malawi is not just a place on a map - it has a face for me.

When Dr. Tracy Thomson Morse was a wee girl attending Sunday School at Chapel of Garioch Kirk in Scotland, she heard about the Church of Scotland's missionary outreach to Malawi and about the poverty present in that country - and she decided that she wanted to do something to help. She never forgot that desire to help.  Fast forward to her college years and she was able to spend time working and researching in Malawi and decided to make improving life for those who live there her life's work.  Her Mum Kathleen went to visit her in her Malawi and was stunned by the level of poverty and the suffering of the many orphans.  Kathleen came back to Scotland determined to make a difference, and with her husband Dave and other concerned friends at the Kirk formed FROM (Famine Relief for the Orphans of Malawi).  100% of the funds and goods donated benefit efforts to provide clean water, food, and medical care for the most vulnerable in Malawi.  Please take a moment to read about this resourceful and creative charity and see what can happen when we take the time to teach our children about Christ's call to care for those in need  - and then follow their example:  

http://fromscotland.org.uk/index.html

Nothing gives a pastor a greater sense of hope than to see parishioners creatively responding to the needs in the world - discovering that they are the answer to the question "who is going to do something about this injustice and suffering?" Kathleen and Dave Thomson did just that, and with the help of fellow parishioners Lewis and Doreen Taylor, founded a most innovative and successful answer to basic needs in Malawi.  And none of that might have happened if not for Tracy's determination to make a difference...and a dear Sunday School teacher's desire to teach children about our responsibility to care for those in need.

I reached out to Tracy's dad Dave and he said that Traci and her family are safe, but they guess that about 250,000 are now homeless and 60 are dead.  FROM immediately sprung into high gear and Dave shares the following:   Roads are washed away  so access is difficult.  Tracy has been  sending  lorry  loads  of  food and other  supplies.  We are sending  all the money  we can to help out but really it  is a drop  in  the ocean. The real problems will be later as all the crops  are lost so hunger will be a major issue.   

As bleak as this news is, the worse is yet to come.  Deep sigh and gulp.  Addressing the suffering in this world is a marathon, not a sprint.  Heavy heart or not, we have to keep going.

What nourishes you to keep you in the race?  What lightens the heaviness in your heart so you can keep serving?  As the news gets more and more bleak, I am thinking seriously about how to keep myself refreshed and renewed so I can stay in this marathon.  Certainly one of the things that keeps me going is seeing such a creative response to need as FROM Scotland and Family Promise right here in our community (which is about to celebrate its 15th anniversary here in Summit County).  But another teacher of resiliency for me is my grandson Benjamin.

Benjamin and his dad came to visit me on Saturday.  He was sick with a double ear infection and all the symptoms of a bad upper respiratory infection - including being a bit cranky while coughing - sneezing - being heavily congested - ear tugging - crying - in short, being just plain miserable.  

But he didn't stay miserable all the time.  Instead, he stayed in the moment and allowed himself to be surprised by whatever wonder came his way.  Including ants.

I am NOT a fan of ants in the house.  I was relieved when the inspection report of my new house said there were no pests, and upset when I discovered that somehow ants did not warrant mention as said pest.  I grew up in an (unhealthy) era that included my mother running around the house with a can of Raid spraying anything that might be alive.  She associated all forms of household insects with having a dirty house and would be mortified to see my dear grandson getting down on his tummy propped up by his elbows and watching the ants amble across the floor.  "Hi Ant" he would say, almost waiting for them to reply.  He watched them with utter fascination and joy and followed their every movement until he was distracted by something equally fascinating (giving the ants time to escape their new and much bigger playmate).  His ability to stay in the present moment and be surprised by joy was contagious.  Well, maybe not in relation to ants but certainly in relation to taking the time to appreciate what was in my midst at that moment.  And my ant moment was Benjamin and his utter wonder and joy.

I wonder if finding a way to be present - in the moment - to the wonders of life would help as we continue to deal with 24/7 nonstop tragic, anger-inducing and heartbreaking news cycle.  Since there is a long road ahead of us and the news doesn't look to be getting better, perhaps it's time to give this strategy a try.  

And perhaps it is time to for me sit outside with B and see what joy and wonder awaits us in the midst of God's creation.  Then I'll check the news...

Tracy and the good people of FROM and all those who volunteer with Family Promise - know that we hold you in our prayers, and will support you every way we can!  You inspire us more than you can possibly know!

With love and prayers for the journey,

Kim

Deeper and More

It has been a long winter.  But today is the first day of astronomical spring, and the sky is that light powder blue that you see sometimes during an Ohio winter. For the second day in a row I saw glimpses of the sun.  Maybe, just maybe, this long winter is ready to slowly yield to spring.  

Balance and moderation are touchstones in Benedictine spirituality, and one way to achieve both is through the spiritual discipline of stability.  Benedict believed that by staying put - committing to stay where you are for better or for worse - you could really get to know God, yourself and the people who journey with you in a much deeper and more meaningful way.  Thus stability can be a powerful tool for transformation.  The move from Idaho to Ohio in many ways upended that stability for me.  I felt like a plant yanked out of the soil with my roots hanging bare.  And it was winter...

I love knowing the rhythms of the place were I live, and in Idaho that, for me, was governed by rhythms like the nesting of the red-tailed hawks and the hunting cycle of the Cooper's Hawk (winter was when she came to hunt in my backyard); the life cycle of the quail who daily visited my back yard and Protest Season (also know as the Idaho Legislative Session); the first signs of the "lone crocus" that bloomed in the front garden, and, of course, the appearance of the first shoots of my beloved Lily of the Valley.  I have planted LoV everywhere I have lived - it makes any place feel like home (even if I have to plant it in a pot).

But I arrived in Ohio in the dead of winter - roots bare and dangling from the hand of God - without a clue as to the rhythm of this strange new place.  Had it not been for B, I might have felt completely lost.

B was waiting for me in my garden even before I arrived.  I started by calling her Bunny because, well, she is a rabbit and she had not yet told me her name.  Rabbit felt too formal - so Bunny it was.  But yesterday as we visited I noticed an "old soul" quality in her so I've transitioned to calling her B until she tells me otherwise.  Those who write about animal totems say that when rabbit medicine comes into your life it reflects a new beginning - and this is certainly that (just as cardinal medicine means renewed vitality - which is also good).  Almost without exception I see her every day and we take a moment to visit.  She is a very good listener.  I'm amazed by her camo coat - her fur looks like dried leaves and she blends right into the garden.  I love to sit on the bench that was only recently covered in snow and try to see the garden through her eyes.  Unlike my backyard in Idaho, I have absolutely no idea what is beginning to sprout under the carpet of dried leaves.  It is all a mystery with a capital M - just like B - and the strange, unmistakable force that gently (with permission) uprooted me from the familiar garden back in Idaho and brought me to Ohio - bare roots and all.

I find Lent to be a mirror of this journey to Coga (as Benjamin calls it).  I feel the longing for a closer walk with God and so I lift a few Lenten devotionals and books off the shelf and place them on my nightstand to read each night before bed...I set my intention and identify the growing edge(s) calling for attention...I think of an additional path of service and I both boldly (and inwardly timidly) step into the wilderness with God.  From there, the journey takes the path it takes - often outside of what I have planned!  It is only week two of Lent and already it is clear that the map I carefully drew for this journey no longer resembles the landscape.  The good news is I can use it to start a fire and keep warm!

Next year at this time I will have observed a full trip around the sun from here.  I will know my garden and its inhabitants, and it will know me.  Slowly my body will begin to align with the rhythms of this place, and it will become home.  My roots will feel the warmth of this soil around them and, with the help of the summer sun, will sink deeply into this place and time.  And like B, I will start to resemble my environment and become part of the web of life here.  Benedict will smile - stability begun.  Transformation to follow.  

Today is the Vernal Equinox - the time when we have an equal amount of day and night.  Balance.  We tip in favor of the light from here on out (until the autumnal equinox brings us back to balance before sending the pendulum in the other direction).  I, for one, rejoice in this good news, even if they are predicting snow for Friday!

What brings you balance?  Who or what brings you messages from the Divine?  And what role does the spiritual discipline of stability play in your journey?  We often denigrate the discipline of stability and confuse it with inflexibility or resistance to change.  It need be neither of those things, but instead can be a different invitation to deeper and more.

With love and prayers for the journey,

Kim