Health, Wholeness, and Hope

When I wrote my post on "80% chance," it was meant to be a "where I am right now" sort of reflection. Thing is, I haven't really moved, but rather become more convicted that this is where I stand on this. Will I still talk to my surgeon about it? Of course. Will I consult a plastic surgeon? Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I want to make this decision with all the information I can get. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like such a drastic move as a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy at age 29 is unnecessary.

This is not to say that I don't trust the good doctors at Dana Farber. If their job is to make the cancer go away and do all they can to make sure it doesn't come back - then yes, cutting off my breasts is the way to go. Eliminate my risk to 0, so I never have to worry about it again. But this doesn't take into account other aspects of my health.

I took a class as a part of my STM degree (master of sacred theology) called Health and Salvation. On the first day, we were asked to reflect on the relationship between health and salvation. The essential link that I came up with between these two was HOPE. Perhaps this was because we had just come out of the Advent/Christmas season, which is all about hope. Perhaps it was because at the beginning of that particular Advent, my grandma passed away, and following her lovely funeral, everyone kept commenting, "It was so full of hope!" Whatever it was, hope became for me a key part of both health and salvation.

Throughout the rest of the class, we talked a lot about the meaning of health and wholeness, and how these terms are defined. And that image of hope stayed with me. For wholeness (and hence health) I also think about the balance of mind, soul, body, spirit, etc., as I reflected on a bit before. Whatever it includes, it does not include acting out of fear. I don't believe I need my breasts to feel whole (at least not in the long rung, though the immediate emotional response to such a step would quite possibly be a sense of lacking). My breasts do not represent my wholeness any more than they represent the entirety of my health.

Yesterday, Michael and I met with my medical oncologist. When I told her what Dana Farber had suggested, she looked quite surprised. She did not feel that was necessary. She said my prognostic score after my surgeries and such was quite low, which is good. As I understand it, this reflects my risk of recurrence, based on aggressiveness, size, margins, etc. She agreed that waiting to do anything more would be fine, as long as I am diligent about self exams, clinical exams, ultra sounds, and mammograms (even if pregnant, I can get a mammogram if they find something they need to check out). I asked, "Does it sound too risky for me to say no, I won't have Tamoxifen, radiation, or a mastectomy, and just take my chances?" She said not at all. 80% is pretty good chances, and I would be well taken care of in the meantime.

So 80% is where I remain. The decision isn't made yet, but that is where Michael and I are both leaning pretty strongly.

I'd be interested in hearing other people's thoughts on what health and wholeness mean - physically, spiritually, emotionally, whatever. We've been doing a lot of thinking and praying about this, but I am always interested in other people's input. Thanks.

Sermon: We are enough (Nov. 25, 2012)

Christ the King Sunday, B

November 25, 2012

John 18:33-37           

Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.

         So: how many of you got started on your Christmas preparations this weekend? Shopping? Decorating? Crafting? In our culture, of course, Thanksgiving weekend has come to be the official kick-off for the holiday season. Often, the church-year agrees. More often than not, I’d say, this first Sunday after Thanksgiving is the first Sunday in Advent, the first of four Sundays we spend waiting for and anticipating the birth of Christ. Because of how early Thanksgiving fell this year, however, we ended up with this extra week in November before Advent, and so this year, this first Sunday after Thanksgiving is not yet Advent, but Christ the King Sunday.

         Christ the King Sunday has an interesting history. It’s a fairly new festival for the church, born in 1925. After World War I, Europe was in a state of economic uncertainty, and people were putting their trust in anything they could find that promised to rescue them. More and more, this was not religion, but politicians and political parties. In response, Pope Pius the 11^th instigated an annual Sunday feast to celebrate and assert the “Kingship of our Savior.” This would be a day when knees would bend and homage would be paid to Christ, in order to witness to the day when every knee in heaven and on earth and under the earth would bow to Christ and confess him as Lord.

         Though it was begun by a Catholic pope, today many mainline Protestants recognize Christ the King Sunday as a day when we celebrate our unity with all Christians on earth, a day when we pray, as we did in our prayer of the day this morning, that “all the people of the earth, now divided by the power of sin, may be united by the glorious and gentle rule of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.” Not a bad thing to celebrate, especially as we anticipate our entrance into the season when we prepare our hearts to give glory to the newborn King, the babe in Bethlehem, Jesus. Really, not a bad thing to celebrate any day! The week of the election this month, several of my friends from all different political persuasions were posting on Facebook a picture that said, “No matter who is president, Jesus is King!” How true! Now that is something we can all rally around!

         It’s interesting that one of the readings that is assigned for today, the one from the Gospel of John, is one that we typically hear on Good Friday, when were not thinking about Jesus crowned in glory, but in a crown of thorns. It is from Jesus’ trial. It’s certainly a dramatic scene, one in which Pilate seems to be as much on trial as Jesus is, with all of Jesus’ answers that are really questions! You know, I always really felt for Pilate. The way he is mentioned in the creed, he has been immortalized as the villain: “crucified under Pontius Pilate,” we say. But when you actually read this story, it’s not so clear that Pilate wanted Jesus crucified. Just before this snippet we hear today, Pilate vacillates, going between his quarters and the patio where Jesus is waiting seven times. He is wavering! He tries to get Jesus off the hook, saying he sees nothing he has done wrong. The thing is, Pilate knows what is the right thing to do. But he also knows what is the easy thing to do, the politically expedient thing to do, and that is to give into the crowds, and have Jesus, the ruler of a kingdom that is not of this world, crucified.

         We’ve all been in that place: having to decide between the right thing and the easy thing, the right thing and the thing that will make people stop complaining, the right thing and the lazy thing. This comes up in many ways in our Christian life. One example that is a constant struggle for many of us, I think, is the tension between two lifestyles: the one of simplicity and God-centeredness, and the one of consumerism that is so prevalent in our culture. Jesus would have us sell all our possessions and give the proceeds to the poor, and leave everything and follow him, and give not just our coat but our cloak as well, not just our one cheek, but the other as well. But even for the most faithful among us, this may be the right choice, but it is not the easy one.

         Never is this more apparent then this weekend each year, the kick-off for the holiday season and all the shopping and consumption that goes with it. I do love Thanksgiving weekend, but I admit that this year more than any other, I have really noticed a disconnect. Thanksgiving is the one day that Americans have set aside to simply be thankful, to remember the many gifts that we have, to appreciate our families and the bounty we enjoy by means of a fabulous feast. My memories of Thanksgiving were always very relaxed – we went to church in the morning, and then spent the rest of the day at home with family and good friends, just enjoying life. It is, simply put, a day of enough. Then, the very next morning, it’s as if we wake up and think, “Wait, I DON’T have enough! We need more!” and off we go to buy buy buy, lots of presents for ourselves and others that people really don’t need and maybe don’t even want. Maybe the reason this hit me more this year than it has before is all the stores that started Black Friday on Thanksgiving evening. Really, folks?? You can’t give us one full day when we truly feel like we already have enough??

         And yet, how quickly we jump on board. Even Michael and I, both dedicated to staying home on Black Friday, were watching TV and saw a commercial for Best Buy and commented that that really was an extraordinary price for a TV, something we’re in the market for. I seriously considered going to Joann Fabrics to get some fabric I needed for 75% off. So tempting! How difficult it is not to give in! How we waver, like Pilate, between the right thing, and the easy thing.

         So why do we do it? Why is it so easy to give in to our culture, instead of giving in whole-heartedly to Christ and his truth? Could it be because we place some sense of our worth in our possessions? Could it be that the noise of our consumerist culture convinces us that we will be somehow less if we don’t give in? Pilate wavered, but the people demanded that Jesus be crucified. And Pilate, even with the Truth standing right in front of him, gave in to the crowd. Perhaps it was so that they wouldn’t think any less of him?

         But here’s the thing: what you have or don’t have or do or not do is not what gives you worth. You are worthy, you are enough, because God says you are. Today at Bethlehem we experienced a baptism: Molly Valentine O’Grady. We experienced how God claimed this beautiful child and loves her and deems her worthy and enough – just like God did this in our own baptism. We experienced the extraordinary love that God has for this child, and for each one of us – not for who we could have been, or for who we are trying to be, or for who we intend to be, but for exactly who and what we are.

         So the proximity of Thanksgiving to this particular feast day, Christ the King, is helpful for our remembering this. We have enough and are enough. We don’t have to do anything or buy anything to earn God’s love because God has already given us that love freely and abundantly in Jesus Christ, the King. And in realizing that, we won’t have less, we will have more: more peace, more joy, more contentment, a more profound sense of belonging and more clear idea of just how precious we are to God, the giver of all good things.

         Let us pray. Christ, the King of all that is: you have claimed us and made us enough. You have made us your beloved creatures. Help us to be content in that, so that we will overcome the demands of the world around us, and have the courage to follow in the truth that is your kingdom. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

80% chance

Here's where I am right now.

I woke up yesterday and started reading about mastectomies and reconstruction - options, recovery time, etc. (Good way to start Thanksgiving, right? Right.) It sounds absolutely horrible. So after all that, I was feeling like I don't want to do this, not one bit. The impact of reconstruction (whether implants or using tissue from elsewhere in my body) sounds terrible and scary, and the thought of looking at myself and seeing nothing sounds even worse. I Don't Want To Do This.

But it's more than that. We've been saying, "15-20% chance of recurrence." You know what that means? It means I have an 80-85% chance that nothing will come back! That sounds pretty good to me! The way we've been talking about this, it's like it's a sure thing that it will come back in one breast or the other or both, and even that if it does, it will be something life threatening. Not so! There's a 20% chance tops that it will, and of that, a fair chance it will be something non-threatening like the DCIS I already got, that can be removed in one minor, outpatient surgery.

I understand why some people choose to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. Some women WANT to do this. I do not. Not one part of me does. I understand why someone wouldn't want the risk of "the C-word" hanging over their head, and will take all measures to eliminate that risk. But you know what? Been there, done that. I have had the risk of breast cancer hanging over my head for the past 13 years, not to mention the risk of lymphoma recurring, and guess what? It hasn't affected my quality of life in the least. I'm used to it.

Furthermore, say I do cut out (literally) my risk for getting breast cancer again. I'm still going to get in my car and run all those risks. I'm still going to walk my clumsy self up and down stairs every day and run all those risks. I'm still going to be around secondhand smoke, and walk on busy streets, and (God willing) give birth, and live in a city with a lot of violence, and run all the same risks as everyone does to develop a cancer for no apparent reason, just like I did with Hodgkin's. Cutting off my breasts won't take away my risk of dying or getting sick or being injured. It won't restore my peace of mind, because as I said, I haven't had that in 13 years anyway.

So I am really wanting to focus on my 80-85% chance of never seeing breast cancer again, and doing all I can without a surgical knife to be in that 80-85% - take the right vitamins, get exercise, eat right, foster an overall healthy lifestyle, do my self-breast exams, and get regular check ups. When I think about health as wholeness, my boobs are not what come to mind. I think about feeling good, and quality of life, and feeling comfortable in myself, and emotional health, and being surrounded by people I love, and living my life without fear. All of that sounds a LOT better than preemptively cutting off my boobs.

Sermon: Thanksgiving 2012

Thanksgiving Day B

November 21, 2012

Matt 6:25-33

1 Tim 2:1-7, Joel 2:21-27

  

         As some of you know, I spent a year of my life living in a village in Slovakia as a missionary. I struggled that year to learn the language, a language with complex grammar and too many consonants, and I quickly learned to cling to those few words and phrases I knew very well. One that I learned early on was “neboj sa!” Don’t worry! It’s not one I would immediately think to be very common, but it does pop up more than I realized: when someone is upset, when someone apologizes, when I want to simply say, “It’s no big deal,” neboj sa, don’t worry is what comes out of my mouth.

         It’s a common phrase to say in English too, of course. It must be because worry is so very prevalent in our world, so the simple suggestion to NOT worry seems appropriate in many situations. It’s so easy to worry, to take 3 or 4 steps down the road and try to anticipate the unknown. As soon as we feel we don’t have as much control in a situation as we would like to, worry is often the first place we go. Oh, we all know how much good it does – that is, no good at all. Even Jesus’ words in our Gospel lesson from Matthew remind us that worrying doesn’t do much good. Jesus wisely asks us, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” Well no, of course not! And studies show that in fact the opposite is true, that worry causes stress that decreases one’s lifespan! And yet, neither the wisdom of modern science nor the wisdom of Jesus himself can pull us out of our desperate tendency to worry.

         I would love to just tell you, “Don’t worry! Trust, and God will take care of it!” and believe everything would be fine. Truth is, that probably won’t stop very many of us from worrying! So instead, let’s try to understand some ways to overcome our inevitable worry when we feel it creeping into our hearts and minds, so that it doesn’t keep such a grip on us.

         So how can we overcome worry? The key statement Jesus makes in our Gospel lesson this evening is at the very end: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” It’s sort of an, “If you build it, they will come,” mentality, but in this case, it is, “Strive for the kingdom of God, and the rest will follow.” Well in order to strive for something, we need to know what we’re striving for. So the first question we have to ask ourselves, then, is: what is the kingdom of God?

         Our other texts for today give us some insight into this. One thing about the kingdom of God: it is a time and place where God’s abundance is clear to all, and where we all trust enough to rely on that abundance. Our passage from Joel speaks of a time of true abundance, where God has made every tree to bear fruit, and rain to come down. “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,” he says, “and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame.”

It is hard to imagine a time like this when you consider that half of the world’s population doesn’t have proper access to clean water, or that every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger. It’s hard to imagine when you see how many people in our communities are served by our food cupboards. Certainly, these are things to worry about! But trusting in this promise of abundance from God is the first step – at the very least, it offers hope in times of despair. At best, it draws us closer to God in trust, and encourages us to work toward that goal. It gives us direction, an ideal to work toward, and the hope and strength to achieve that ideal that is the kingdom of God.

         In this time around Thanksgiving Day, we think a lot about abundance. Especially around stewardship season, we often talk about the difference between an attitude of abundance and an attitude of scarcity. An attitude of scarcity tells us that whatever we have, it’s never quite enough. An attitude of abundance relishes in the many gifts we have been given, and opens our hearts to sharing those gifts. That year I spent in Slovakia, I lived out of one and a half suitcases for the whole year. I would sometimes wear just one or two outfits the whole week – which felt just fine because that’s what everyone else did. Now back in the States, I have a lot more than one suitcase worth of clothes, and yet I never seem to have just the article of clothing that I need. How can that be, when I have many times more options than I did that year in Slovakia? That’s the difference, see, between an attitude of scarcity and an attitude of abundance. In an attitude of abundance, I was glad to have a coat to keep me warm, and pants that fit and roughly matched my shirt. When I have much, I need much more to keep myself satisfied.

         Timothy also offers us important instruction on how to strive for the kingdom of God in our second lesson. He writes, “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Prayer is a powerful thing. It can be a very transformative thing in many ways. I am struck in Timothy’s words by his specification to pray for kings and those in high positions. How many of you pray regularly for our president? Regardless of who the president is or what party he represents, we tend to hear a lot more slander than we do praise of our president, or any political leader for that matter. It is easy to make political leaders the enemy, if they fall at all short of perfection, or if they’re not doing things exactly like we want them to be done. But Timothy says we should pray for everyone, even our political leaders, even – and maybe, especially – if we don’t agree with them. I don’t mean pray that they would change. I mean pray for them, for the their health, their well-being, that they would be guided by God’s will. This, he writes, is “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” This is another aspect of the kingdom of God for which Jesus urges us to strive: to lead a peaceable life. And when you pray for your enemies, for people that cause you frustration or even anger, it may or may not change them, but it certainly changes you. It is hard to hate someone for whom you pray regularly. And doing away with hate and living peaceably – that is certainly a part of the kingdom of God.

On this Eve of Thanksgiving, what if we took this to another level: what if we not only prayed for, but gave thanks for our enemies? What if we gave thanks for the things that cause us worry or distress? In the book The Hiding Place, Corrie and her sister Betsy find themselves in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. Living in tight, flea-infested barracks, it is hard to be thankful for anything, but one day, they begin listing all the things they DO have to be thankful for. They are thankful to be together, assigned to the same barracks. They are thankful that they still have their Bible, and are able to bring those words of hope to so many of their fellow prisoners. They are thankful for the daily worship services they are able to lead in their flea-filled barracks. Now on a roll, Betsy gives thanks for the fleas, too! Corrie is doubtful that this is truly something to be thankful for… until they realize that the reason they are able to hold their worship services and read their Bible at all is that none of the guards want to step foot in that overcrowded, flea-infested place. Because of the fleas, they are afforded some small amount of privacy they would not otherwise have had. Had they not prayed in thanksgiving for those annoying little fleas, their hearts would not have been opened to the possibility that God was blessing them so richly.

         This is how prayer, and especially prayers of thanksgiving, work, and how God works through prayers. When we are thankful, when we foster an attitude of abundance instead of scarcity, when we see the work God already does in our lives, we allow our hearts to be opened to that work. When we dwell on worry, or on hate, or on all that we do not have, our hearts are closed, and we cannot see God’s abundance. Thanksgiving Day is a wonderful reminder for us to give thanks – not just for the obvious gifts and abundance God has poured on us, but also for those things that are difficult to understand, that cause us to worry.

         Worry is inevitable. But it need not keep its grip on us. “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” Jesus tells us, “and all [that you need] will be given to you as well.” This Thanksgiving – and every day, for that matter – I hope you will find a way to give thanks not only for the abundance God has provided, but also for the worries, the distress, the fleas that you find in your life.

Let us pray. God of all grace and abundance, we give you thanks this day for our many blessings, and we give thanks for the many things in this life that challenge us. Guide us to see your love in all things, and help us to live fully in your abundance and strive to live peaceably in your kingdom.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.Thanksgiving Day B

November 21, 2012

Matt 6:25-33

1 Tim 2:1-7, Joel 2:21-27

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         As some of you know, I spent a year of my life living in a village in Slovakia as a missionary. I struggled that year to learn the language, a language with complex grammar and too many consonants, and I quickly learned to cling to those few words and phrases I knew very well. One that I learned early on was “neboj sa!” Don’t worry! It’s not one I would immediately think to be very common, but it does pop up more than I realized: when someone is upset, when someone apologizes, when I want to simply say, “It’s no big deal,” neboj sa, don’t worry is what comes out of my mouth.

         It’s a common phrase to say in English too, of course. It must be because worry is so very prevalent in our world, so the simple suggestion to NOT worry seems appropriate in many situations. It’s so easy to worry, to take 3 or 4 steps down the road and try to anticipate the unknown. As soon as we feel we don’t have as much control in a situation as we would like to, worry is often the first place we go. Oh, we all know how much good it does – that is, no good at all. Even Jesus’ words in our Gospel lesson from Matthew remind us that worrying doesn’t do much good. Jesus wisely asks us, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” Well no, of course not! And studies show that in fact the opposite is true, that worry causes stress that decreases one’s lifespan! And yet, neither the wisdom of modern science nor the wisdom of Jesus himself can pull us out of our desperate tendency to worry.

         I would love to just tell you, “Don’t worry! Trust, and God will take care of it!” and believe everything would be fine. Truth is, that probably won’t stop very many of us from worrying! So instead, let’s try to understand some ways to overcome our inevitable worry when we feel it creeping into our hearts and minds, so that it doesn’t keep such a grip on us.

         So how can we overcome worry? The key statement Jesus makes in our Gospel lesson this evening is at the very end: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” It’s sort of an, “If you build it, they will come,” mentality, but in this case, it is, “Strive for the kingdom of God, and the rest will follow.” Well in order to strive for something, we need to know what we’re striving for. So the first question we have to ask ourselves, then, is: what is the kingdom of God?

         Our other texts for today give us some insight into this. One thing about the kingdom of God: it is a time and place where God’s abundance is clear to all, and where we all trust enough to rely on that abundance. Our passage from Joel speaks of a time of true abundance, where God has made every tree to bear fruit, and rain to come down. “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,” he says, “and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame.”

It is hard to imagine a time like this when you consider that half of the world’s population doesn’t have proper access to clean water, or that every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger. It’s hard to imagine when you see how many people in our communities are served by our food cupboards. Certainly, these are things to worry about! But trusting in this promise of abundance from God is the first step – at the very least, it offers hope in times of despair. At best, it draws us closer to God in trust, and encourages us to work toward that goal. It gives us direction, an ideal to work toward, and the hope and strength to achieve that ideal that is the kingdom of God.

         In this time around Thanksgiving Day, we think a lot about abundance. Especially around stewardship season, we often talk about the difference between an attitude of abundance and an attitude of scarcity. An attitude of scarcity tells us that whatever we have, it’s never quite enough. An attitude of abundance relishes in the many gifts we have been given, and opens our hearts to sharing those gifts. That year I spent in Slovakia, I lived out of one and a half suitcases for the whole year. I would sometimes wear just one or two outfits the whole week – which felt just fine because that’s what everyone else did. Now back in the States, I have a lot more than one suitcase worth of clothes, and yet I never seem to have just the article of clothing that I need. How can that be, when I have many times more options than I did that year in Slovakia? That’s the difference, see, between an attitude of scarcity and an attitude of abundance. In an attitude of abundance, I was glad to have a coat to keep me warm, and pants that fit and roughly matched my shirt. When I have much, I need much more to keep myself satisfied.

         Timothy also offers us important instruction on how to strive for the kingdom of God in our second lesson. He writes, “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Prayer is a powerful thing. It can be a very transformative thing in many ways. I am struck in Timothy’s words by his specification to pray for kings and those in high positions. How many of you pray regularly for our president? Regardless of who the president is or what party he represents, we tend to hear a lot more slander than we do praise of our president, or any political leader for that matter. It is easy to make political leaders the enemy, if they fall at all short of perfection, or if they’re not doing things exactly like we want them to be done. But Timothy says we should pray for everyone, even our political leaders, even – and maybe, especially – if we don’t agree with them. I don’t mean pray that they would change. I mean pray for them, for the their health, their well-being, that they would be guided by God’s will. This, he writes, is “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” This is another aspect of the kingdom of God for which Jesus urges us to strive: to lead a peaceable life. And when you pray for your enemies, for people that cause you frustration or even anger, it may or may not change them, but it certainly changes you. It is hard to hate someone for whom you pray regularly. And doing away with hate and living peaceably – that is certainly a part of the kingdom of God.

On this Eve of Thanksgiving, what if we took this to another level: what if we not only prayed for, but gave thanks for our enemies? What if we gave thanks for the things that cause us worry or distress? In the book The Hiding Place, Corrie and her sister Betsy find themselves in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. Living in tight, flea-infested barracks, it is hard to be thankful for anything, but one day, they begin listing all the things they DO have to be thankful for. They are thankful to be together, assigned to the same barracks. They are thankful that they still have their Bible, and are able to bring those words of hope to so many of their fellow prisoners. They are thankful for the daily worship services they are able to lead in their flea-filled barracks. Now on a roll, Betsy gives thanks for the fleas, too! Corrie is doubtful that this is truly something to be thankful for… until they realize that the reason they are able to hold their worship services and read their Bible at all is that none of the guards want to step foot in that overcrowded, flea-infested place. Because of the fleas, they are afforded some small amount of privacy they would not otherwise have had. Had they not prayed in thanksgiving for those annoying little fleas, their hearts would not have been opened to the possibility that God was blessing them so richly.

         This is how prayer, and especially prayers of thanksgiving, work, and how God works through prayers. When we are thankful, when we foster an attitude of abundance instead of scarcity, when we see the work God already does in our lives, we allow our hearts to be opened to that work. When we dwell on worry, or on hate, or on all that we do not have, our hearts are closed, and we cannot see God’s abundance. Thanksgiving Day is a wonderful reminder for us to give thanks – not just for the obvious gifts and abundance God has poured on us, but also for those things that are difficult to understand, that cause us to worry.

         Worry is inevitable. But it need not keep its grip on us. “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” Jesus tells us, “and all [that you need] will be given to you as well.” This Thanksgiving – and every day, for that matter – I hope you will find a way to give thanks not only for the abundance God has provided, but also for the worries, the distress, the fleas that you find in your life.

Let us pray. God of all grace and abundance, we give you thanks this day for our many blessings, and we give thanks for the many things in this life that challenge us. Guide us to see your love in all things, and help us to live fully in your abundance and strive to live peaceably in your kingdom.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Not so fast, there...

And here I thought I wouldn't find anything else to write about.

I do love roller coasters, especially with lots of twists and turns, but the roller coaster of my health is just not fun anymore.

Yesterday my doctor in Boston called me. Even though they still hadn't received the slides from my first surgery or my radiation records, they talked about me at the tumor board, so he was calling to tell me what they had said. Present in this discussion was one doctor who specializes in Hodgkin's survivors who have developed breast cancer, and one who specializes in young women with cancer. (You can see why I opted for Boston! It's like they KNOW me!) Taking what data they have on cases like mine, and my particular age and life goals, they had a conversation about my next steps.

Turns out my risk for breast cancer reappearing in the next 5 years is considerably higher than we were led to believe. Because both sides were equally exposed to radiation, I'm like a ticking breast cancer time bomb; whatever it was that turned some breast tissue into carcinoma on the left side is still working on the right, and could potentially rear its ugly head at any moment. The risk of something appearing in the next 5 years in the affected breast is about 15%, and about 18-20% in the opposite breast. For average DCIS patients, risk starts small and increases, but for patients like me, the risk of recurrence in the short term is much greater.

Now, if they could be sure it would recur as DCIS, that would be simple because it is very treatable. Just snip snip, sew sew, and it's out. But they can't be sure of that; it could come back as something invasive. Or it could not come back at all. There's just no way to tell.

So what do they recommend? At the end of the day, they are urging me to seriously consider a bilateral mastectomy, either all right now, or one right now and one after I breast-feed. (By now, I've let my dream of breast-feeding go. Would be great if I could, but if I'm going to do this all eventually, let's just get 'er done all at once. As my dad pointed out, he wasn't breast-fed, and he turned out pretty well.) One doctor, the one specializing in young woman, said a bilateral mastectomy in the near future might even be better for facilitating my goals (child-bearing) because I could just take away the risk entirely and be able to be there for my children without either having to do this surgery while they are young, or turning up with invasive breast cancer and having to deal with that with a couple of rug rats under toe.

They have a group of 18 women like me - Hodgkin's survivors with breast cancer. Of those 18, 14 opted for the bilateral mastectomy. Of the four who didn't, two of them developed breast cancer again in three years. Now granted, that is a small sample. But pretty sobering.

So what's a girl (who is planning her wedding and would sort of like to fill out a dress, not to mention a swimming suit on her honeymoon) to do? I feel awful. I had decided not to even start processing this possibility until well down the line. All the weight I felt had been lifted from my shoulders now feels like it has been dropped back on from several feet up. It might as well be July again. It would almost be easier if they'd just said to me, "It's invasive. They've got to come off." Great, tell me what to do. But to have this, "Well, your risk is higher than most, about a 20% chance you could get something else that may or may not be life threatening..." What do I do with that?? I mean, 20% risk - driving my car on any given day is as life-threatening as that!

Really all that's keeping me from hacking these trouble-makers off at this point is my vanity. I'm kind of fond of them, to be honest, despite the mischief they've caused. Also, it feels like over-treatment, a bit. Pretty drastic move for 20% risk. Reconstruction is of course an option, but the recovery is so long, and the possibility of taking tissue from elsewhere in my body to fill up the new boobs is tricky when I don't really have a lot to spare. (Doggone my healthy physique.)

And where does planning a wedding fit into all of this? If I had this done, say, in the spring, am I really gonna be ready for a wedding in July? Plus, I have learned that two VIPs won't be able to be at the wedding on July 20, like deal-breaker important. God, are you trying to tell me that July is not the time? Earlier, then, so I could have a live-in husband to take care of me as I recover? Or later, so I have time to heal and be healthy and ready to start a new life with someone? July was going to work so beautiful for so many reasons... Dang it!

My next appointment with my medical oncologist is on Monday, so I'll talk with her about all this. My next appointment with my surgeon is January 9. Maybe I should move that sooner and ask her what she thinks? Maybe I should keep it in January, and just enjoy Advent and Christmas, my favorite time of year? I don't know. :(

Just when I thought my life was back on track. Cancer is such a jerk.

(By the way, as I was processing all this yesterday, Klaus decided it was a good time to poop and pee on the floor again. Bad dog. That's not the pet therapy I had in mind. At least his cute doggie antics had made me giggle uncontrollably a mere couple hours before.)

Sermon: My Lord, What a Morning! (Nov. 18, 2012)

Pentecost 25B

Mark 13:1-8

         My Lord, what a morning. My Lord, what a morning. Oh, my Lord, what a morning, when the stars begin to fall.

         Indeed, my Lord! What a morning! What a morning, when a “frankenstorm” devastates a city that never sleeps and its surrounding areas, leaving tens of thousands without power or water, and then another storm comes right on its tail. What a morning, when violence breaks out at the slightest provocation, leaving innocent people dead. What a morning, when we legally elect a president, and the next week is full of slander from both sides, threats of seceding from the union, and warnings that the man we elected is paving the way for the antichrist. What a morning when increasing numbers of people in the US list their religious affiliation as “none,” and the church can’t figure out how to turn that around. What a morning, when every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger related causes. My Lord. What a morning!

         It’s hard not to think about these things when we hear these apocalyptic texts, these end times predictions that describe the hardship that is to come. Daniel seems to offer comfort, even as he terrifies. “This coming time is gonna be terrible,” he says. “But don’t worry. In the midst of it, God’s people will be delivered.” Uh, okay, Daniel, if you say so. Jesus is even worse, warning us of wars, famines, earthquakes, and strong buildings tumbling, adding that this is “but the beginning of the birth pangs,” with no promise, at least in this discourse, of anything good that might follow that. Excuse me, Jesus, was this supposed to offer us some hope?

         But sometimes, that’s how we feel, isn’t it? Sometimes it is actual famines, wars, and earthquakes that bring us distress, often without a glimpse of the hope that might follow. There are certainly enough of those in this world to go around – you can hear about them on the news every day. In our more day-to-day lives, these are more metaphoric. It is famines of the soul, when we find ourselves hungry for something missing in our lives – for companionship, for purpose, for meaning, for direction. It is our internal wars, when we are battling addiction, wrestling with difficult relationships, or discerning tough life decisions. It is earth-shaking developments, when we receive life-changing news, whether good or bad: a job lost, an illness diagnosed, a positive pregnancy test, a job promotion that causes you to pick up and move your family to a new city. It is Temples crumbling, our safety nets and sanctuaries no longer providing the comfort they once did: a divorce, a recognition of something in yourself that needs to change, a friend pointing out an unhealthy habit. To any of these, we might wake up and think, “My Lord, what a morning!”

         I implied a moment ago that Jesus’ words today in our Gospel don’t leave us with much hope. What if I told you that, to first century hearers, they did bring hope? Jesus tells them that the Temple will fall, “not one stone left upon another.” Devastating news at the time, I’m sure, but when the Temple did, in fact, fall, 40 years later, they were able to see that Jesus had anticipated that, that even this was in God’s hands. Shortly after Jesus’ death and resurrection, many did come and claim to be him, but his followers could say, “Yes, we knew about this. God knew about this. We will not be led astray.” And that knowledge that we remain in God’s hands, and in God’s awareness, did bring hope to those first century Christians.

         Do something with me for a second. I’m going to read once again these two apocalyptic texts, the one from Daniel and the one from Mark. As you listen, listen for the words or phrases that speak especially to your heart right now. Hold on to those words or phrases.

At that time Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. ²Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. ³Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. …..

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, "Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!" ²Then Jesus asked him, "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down."

³When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished? ⁵Then Jesus began to say to them, "Beware that no one leads you astray. ⁶Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. ⁷When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. ⁸For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs. …

         What are some of those words and phrases that stuck with you? …

         My Lord, what a morning. Not too long ago, as many of you know, I had a major, “Lord, what a morning” experience. Actually, several in a row! Newly engaged and a year into a promising ministry, I got slapped with a cancer diagnosis. Yes, the statistics showed that for someone with my medical history, this was a possibility, and while that helped a little, it didn’t make the pain go away. It’s hard to see from that place what on earth God might have in mind. For my personal life, it was wars and famines and tumbling buildings, it was a potential end to dreams, it was a turning over of life plans.

One evening that was particularly hard, I was talking to my parents. I was lamenting that God seemed to have gifted me in so many ways, but now was putting this big road block in my way. “I have so much to offer!” I said. “Why should this happen right now?” In his pastor-dad way, my dad suggested, “So that you’ll have so much to offer.”

My diagnosis was “but the beginning of the birth pangs.” A beginning can seem like, can even be an end. But an end can also be a beginning. As the birth pangs begin, it isn’t always easy to remember that as a result of that pain, a new child will come into the world. Out of birth pangs comes a child. Out of a cancer diagnosis comes new perspective. Out of death on a cross comes a resurrection. That is our God. Ours is a God whose light shines so brightly that the darkness cannot overcome it. Ours is a God who wipes away tears. Ours is a God who delivers. …

The sermon isn’t complete. When have you thought, “My Lord, what a morning,” and seen God work in that? What word of hope do these texts speak to you?

[Some sort of closing/prayer that uses what people say, if anything. Something like:]

Lord God, we live through many nights in our lives, and awake to many surprising mornings. Grant us the courage and the hearts to see the undying hope that comes in your Son Jesus Christ, that we will have strength to see that in each end, there is also a beginning. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Calm after the storm

After four months of thinking constantly about the next procedure, the next surgery, the next nerve-wracking news I might receive... I admit I'm not really sure what to do with myself now. Well, I mean I guess it's good that Thanksgiving, Advent, and Christmas are around the corner, because that is certainly something to do with myself. In fact, I've been in overdrive at work these past two weeks, finally making up for lost time, visiting a bunch of folks, planning a bunch of services.... I need to remember that just because I'm not sick anymore doesn't mean I should make myself sick by working myself into the ground. Though I also find I'm even more keenly aware of the importance of self-care, so I think I'm okay.

But really, when you're in the midst emotionally intensity, everything is heightened. You don't need to find interest in the everyday things because there's this big external thing that sucks all your attention and energy. Then suddenly it's all done and you're left with... normal. (Just occurred to me, this must be akin to what empty-nesters feel when their last chick flies the coop. Push push push, then suddenly, nothing.) So what do you do with normal?

Well for one thing, you don't suddenly see it as drabber and less interesting than it is. That is the danger, isn't it? There was a time in my life (college-ish) when if something dramatic wasn't going on, then I quickly lost interest. (Perhaps that was a symptom of having had an eventful high school career, which included playing year-round soccer, choir, band, orchestra, honors classes, youth group... not to mention beating cancer, playing with the New York Philharmonic, and being featured on several major news media.) I'd like to think I'm past that need-drama stage now, able to appreciate the joy in little things, the wonder of everydayness, the delight and excitement of each new experience. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But I certainly see great value in simplicity and just enough of the mundane to keep me grounded.

Let me be less vague and more honest. At the end of all this, I admit, I'm not feeling as ecstatic as I am feeling a little let down. Am I happy? Of course! But this a sort of calm following the storm: safer, but less exciting, and less interesting. No, I don't expect this mysteriously boring calm to last - I've got a wedding to plan, after all! I guess I'm just expressing to anyone who wants to "listen" out in cyber space that my next challenge will be to get back to that place of appreciating the mundane, relishing in calmness, and finding joy and delight in everyday stuff. That, and finding things to write about in this blog. :-P

Second opinion

Spoiler alert: I think I might be done for breast cancer. For now. Can it be so??

Michael and I drove to Boston this weekend to get a second opinion on the next steps, if any, of treatment. Since I was getting opposite opinions from my medical oncologist and my surgical oncologist, it seemed prudent to hear from someone else. So off we went to Dana Farber, to Brigham and Women's Center. We left Thursday night after an evening meeting I had, arrived at my friend Tim's house in Pittsfield, MA around 12:30am. After brunch the next morning, we headed off to Boston, and arrived just in time. We stayed with some former church members that night (thanks Frank and Marlea!), grabbed brunch with my friend Kim the next morning, and headed back in time for dinner in Rochester. A whirlwind, to be sure, and we were exhausted by the end of it.

Our experience at Dana Farber was good. Nice people (though not as nice as at Strong, if I may be biased!), and quite an operation. Sheesh. We had to do a lot of waiting - for one consultation, we were there almost 3 hours! Dr. Morgenstern was a nice enough guy, although he said several times that he had lived a year in Rochester (went to U of R) and it had NOT been a good experience. We were like, "Dude, lay off Rochester! We like it there, and actually live there by choice!" Oh well. He was still a good doctor.

So he didn't tell us all that much that we hadn't already heard, at least at first. First thing he did was break down the plan for a run-of-the-mill DCIS patient. First is a lumpectomy (check). With just that, there is a 20% chance that something will return, with 10% chance it would come back as DCIS (pre-cancer) and 10% chance it would come back as a true, invasive cancer. Of the invasive group, 90% of those women were cured. My risk grows 1% per year, plateauing at about 20%. Still with me? Okay. So radiation cuts that risk in half (for the primary cancer). Tamoxifen again cuts it in half. 

So what he needs to determine, by talking with the tumor board there at Dana Farber, is how my particular history might affect those numbers, so that I can make my decisions with that in mind. But here is one thing he could tell us that has made all the difference: I told him I was concerned about taking Tamoxifen because I don't want it to put me in the high risk pregnancy bracket (because we'd have to wait to start trying to have children until I'm 34). He said, "I think Tamoxifen would be beneficial for you, but there is no question in my mind that it will be just as beneficial for you if you start it after you have children."He has said the same thing to other women in my position, but who have invasive breast cancers. I'll be so closely watched these first few years, and the risk of DCIS returning is so low at first (increasing by the year), that he feels starting it after children would be just fine. Hooray!

He also said that if I want to eliminate my risk entirely, I should have a mastectomy. I knew this. So I guess I need to look at these numbers for risk factor that they're coming up with, and talk again with my doctors here about this. But Michael and I talked, and the way we see it is this: There doesn't seem to be any further treatment at this point that NEEDS to happen right now. So we can get married, start a family, and then think about the next treatment I should do, whether Tamoxifen or a mastectomy. Which means... I THINK I'M DONE.

I mean, obviously I still have some appointments, and tri-monthly check-ups, and bi-annual scans (MRIs and mammos and ultrasounds), but I'm used to that. I can dig it. 

So, good news! Thanks for all your prayers and thoughts and gifts and everything through all this! I have appreciated it so, so much. 

Sermon: Noticing Poverty (Nov. 11, 2012)

Mark 12:38-44

            I wouldn’t normally consider myself to be into politics. But I admit, this election season, I’ve been pretty into it. I listened to the radio all through the primaries. I watched all of the debates and read reviews about them afterward. And along with so many this week, I went to the polls and cast my vote, and waited until the wee hours of the morning to find out who the winners would be.

            There were a lot of exciting things this election season, as well as a lot of dirty or frustrating things. One thing that discouraged me was actually something not talked about. In four debates, countless political rallies, and several months leading up to the election, there was hardly any conversation about the poor in this country or abroad. One candidate used the “p-word,” poverty, but didn’t actually talk about ways to address it, and the other talked about policies that would address it without actually using the word, instead using code like, “those striving to get into the middle class.” Both talked a whole lot about the economy, which is related, but still misses the head of the nail. No one talked directly about how we as a country can help care for the poorest and most vulnerable in our communities.

            Why is that? There was a time, and you in “the greatest generation” will remember, when there was a certain honor to being poor. People worked hard, they gave up what they didn’t need, they stretched what little they had and didn’t take things for granted. But that honor doesn’t exist today. Today, being poor is taboo, something we don’t talk about. When we talk about the poor, it makes most people think about people who don’t work, and bad personal choices, and irresponsibility. This stereotype is so ingrained in us, that even data to the contrary is not convincing.

            The fact is, poverty is a very real thing, often no fault of the people living in it, and not easy to rise above. And we can ignore it or use code words to talk about it all we want, but it doesn’t change the fact that 1 in 4 children in the U.S. don’t have enough food to eat, that 1 in 8 U.S. citizens live below the poverty line, or that half of Americans (half!) will experience living in poverty by the time they are 65. Recently a film came out entitled The Line, about several different households who suddenly found themselves living at or below the poverty line. One was a former banker making six figures, a single dad of three teenagers, but when his bank was bought out, he lost his job and despite going back to school, he couldn’t land another. Another story was a woman born in one of the worst neighborhoods in Chicago. She managed to pull herself out of the poverty she grew up in and get a good job, but one day tripped on her way to the bus, and after suffering severe injuries, had to go on disability and couldn’t work. One man they profiled was a fisherman in Louisiana. After the oil spill and Hurricane Katrina, what used to be a bountiful business now hardly delivered anything. Poverty takes all forms and is caused by all kinds of things. And the truth is, any one of us could be one accident, one illness, one job loss away from finding ourselves in poverty. We can ignore it all we want, but it is still there.

            Poverty, of course, has always been there, and our Gospel lesson today shows us that. The story of the widow’s mite is a well-known and well-loved one, often used during stewardship season to highlight the widow’s extravagant generosity. She gave all she had! No 10% tithe for her, she gave 100%! But viewed in its full context, this story becomes less about a generous woman, and more about the unjust system she is trapped in.

            We normally think of the Temple as a religious place, and to some extent, it was. But it was also the economic center of Jerusalem. It’s where all economic exchanges took place, where taxes were paid, currency exchanged, everything. And what ended up happening was that the few very rich people in the first century – the teachers of the law, the scribes – benefited from the money given to the Temple, but this benefit was on the backs of the poor. Furthermore, they saw themselves as assets to society, where they saw people like widows, who relied on the kindness of others, to be a burden to society. And so, as Jesus points out, the rich “walk around in long robes,” and like “to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!” All this they do, even though there are widows among them with no livelihood, orphans who cannot fend for themselves, strangers and travelers who have nothing to eat. It is a corrupt system, and our dear, generous widow is a victim of it. Here she comes to give her very last penny, so that the scribes can wear their long robes and go to parties. The scribes do indeed “devour widow’s houses,” as Jesus says.

            Well, they can ignore the poverty among them all they want. So can we. But not with Jesus around. In the first place, the biblical witness is replete with the command to care for the poor, the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the alien. Old and New Testament alike, this is a clear mandate of the life of faith. But in this story about the self-sacrificing widow, the need to notice the poverty among us is brought even more to the forefront. It’s no accident that this beloved story appears directly following Jesus’ condemnation of the corruption of the Temple. First he points out how flauntingly the rich behave. Then he sits back, and he watches. He simply takes in the scene, watching some put in large sums, watching the long robes of the scribes. And then he sees the widow. Probably no one else noticed her – widows were not really the type to be noticed. After all, it was believed she had nothing to offer society, certainly nothing like the scribes had. But Jesus notices her. He watches her offer her two coins. And he points her out to the disciples. Notice he doesn’t commend her for her generosity. He doesn’t go up, shake her hand, and congratulate her for being a model of faith. That’s something we have added to the text after years of interpretation. No, all he does is point her out and say, “Do you see her? Do you see how she already has so little, and this corrupt system is taking even that? Do you see the poor and vulnerable right here in your midst? Did you even notice?”

            You know, the Gospel is so often a comfort to the afflicted. But sometimes, and today is one of those times, it also serves to afflict the comfortable. And we are comfortable. Some of us more comfortable than others. But especially as many of my friends in NY and NJ have been without power or water this week, I have been grateful for how comfortable I am. When I get a call for help from a young man who, through no fault of his own, cannot work and has to take care of a baby by himself, and is two months behind on his rent, I realize how comfortable I am. In the midst of such realization, texts like this do hold a mirror and show me that there is more to the Christian life than achieving and recognizing my comfort.

Jesus points us beyond that. But he doesn’t point us toward the poor and vulnerable to accuse us. He does it because he loves us, loves us enough to not want us to keep our blinders on, and instead to point us toward change. He doesn’t want us to continue participating in a system that does not care for the proverbial widow and other vulnerable members of society.

We have many means by which to change such a system. One of them many of us exercised this past week, and that is to vote people into office who will care for the well-being even of the poor, who will see each and every person, regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender… not as a burden, but as someone who has something to offer this world. Now that the election is over, another way we can prevent corruption is to talk to those people we elected, tell them that poor people matter to us. Another way to avoid participation in a system like the one described in our Gospel today is to build relationships. Before making an assumption about a person, or applying a stereotype to them, have a conversation with them. Hear their story. Learn about their gifts and dreams. All of us are beloved children of God.

There’s no part of the gospel that says, “Earn your keep, then sit back and enjoy.” And so Jesus won’t let us stay there, comfortable as it may be. Immediately following this encounter with the poor widow, Jesus also gives all he has, his whole life, for the sake of the corrupt world. He goes to the cross so that we might have life. And now the question becomes, how do we use that life? In gratitude for what Christ has done for us, how can we use this life to care for those around us, both friends and strangers alike? How will we be good stewards of the comfort God has graced us with?

Let us pray. God of the weak and vulnerable, you have provided us with many comforts, but you also point us toward the poorest among us. Help us to see those around us who are in need. Help us to see them as unique and wonderful gifts, and as your children, that together we might grow closer to you. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

A taste of normalcy

I just feel this urge to write something today, even though nothing is new in the world of fighting breast cancer. Or rather, I feel an urge to write BECAUSE nothing is new in the world of fighting breast cancer! It has been nice to feel mostly like a normal (only more easily tired) person for a while.

The whole recovery from surgery thing has been going fine. I'm a little more sore than last time, probably because I wasn't completely healed when they cut me open, plus they came all the way out to the skin. Hence, bruising. So even though I didn't dress up for Halloween this year, my boob put back on her Frankenboob costume. Post-op is tomorrow, and Michael and I will be going to Boston (Dana Farber) on Friday to get a second opinion from the folks in the women's center there. On the way I'll even get to see a couple of dear friends, so I'm feeling pretty happy about that!

All this to say that today is my last day in week-long respite-from-cancer-ness. And to be fair, it hasn't even been a respite (been busy trying to forward records to Boston, and all the stress that goes with that when you've lived in three different states in as many years), but it has FELT like one. I attribute this to a few things:

1) My little pup, Klaus. It has not been an easy transition for the little guy, I must admit. It's hard to lose your humans. So we've had some accidents, but he looks genuinely apologetic when it happens, and hangs his head (I think - but he's already so close to the ground, it's hard to tell). But he is SO DANG CUTE. He scurries around the house not wanting to miss anything, including, as it turns out, the moment I get out of the shower. I've decided this is cute, not creepy, and also that it's sweet, not annoying, when he completes the cleaning process by licking my bare ankles as I get ready. He's got more lovin' packed into that little body of his than one might think possible, and when he wiggles and squeaks when I come home, it is pure delight. Today he successfully spent almost the whole day alone (!), and could hardly contain himself when I came home and took him for a walk. For all the frustrating (and smelly/messy) parts of new dog ownership, he has at the very least provided me with a distraction. This week has been about him, not my boobs. And for this, I am thankful! I'd rather pick up poop than be poked and prodded at the doctor any day! (You may quote me on that.)

2) I'm ridiculously excited that today is election day. What a great feeling it was to walk to my polling site this morning (I felt this deep conviction that I needed to walk instead of drive), to fill in my bubbles, to see the screen say, "Your ballot is cast!" and to walk away proudly with my "I voted today!" sticker affixed to my clergy shirt. I don't know what it is about that sticker... and I felt extra thrilled to put it on a clergy shirt.

One of my churches is also a polling site, and I was there today, and just loved seeing the cross section of people coming in the doors. Today is one day when everyone matters just as much as everyone else (with the exception of Ohio-ans, who obviously matter the most), when everyone can rally around something that is common among us. Everyone was in good spirits (especially at St. Martin, where we were selling baked goods and used books!), there was a bustling atmosphere... it just felt so GOOD! I love election day!

3) I overall feel more energetic. I don't know why this should be, and as I said above, I do still tire easily from the anesthetic still in my system, but I feel a drive and motivation I haven't felt in months. I happily worked away on my computer yesterday until after 7pm! This weekend I finally had the energy again to visit someone in the hospital, and someone in their home today. JOHANNA IS BACK!! Or at least on her way back.

So, today I am thankful for feeling like a normal person - a person who walks her dog, who goes to vote, who is happy to be at work, who participates in polls when they call, who cleans her house and does her dishes... It's good to feel like Johanna again.

Sermon: Come Out as Saints on Earth (Nov. 4, 2012, All Saints' Day)

All Saints’ Day B

John 11:32-44

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            For our Gospel reading on All Saints’ Day this year, we hear about one of the most dramatic miracles that Jesus performs. This miracle, or “sign,” as John’s Gospel calls it, appears only in John, and is the last sign Jesus performs before his own resurrection. In fact, that is part of its purpose – to point Jesus’ disciples, and us by extension, toward the even more impressive defeat over death that is yet to come. It is a story wrought with human emotion, a story many of us can put ourselves into as we see the characters – even Jesus – experience everything from sadness and sympathy, to anger and betrayal, to bewilderment and doubt.

             It is in the midst of all this emotion that Jesus performs this most dramatic sign: he raises Lazarus from the dead. But on this All Saints Day, it is not so much the fact that Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead that impresses me; it is the way in which he does it. There are two phrases, there at the end, that make this so interesting. He first calls out to Lazarus, “Come out!” and then he says to the rest of the community gathered, “Unbind him!”

            Why is this so compelling? Because here, in Jesus’ most dramatic miracle, he is actually asking for the people’s participation in it with him. Those gathered – they are the ones who complete the miracle for him. Don’t get me wrong – Jesus certainly has the power to heal, comfort, feed, bring to life… he has done it before. But here, toward the end of his ministry, he asks us to participate in that project with him. Because being a part of the Christian community means that even in the midst of the variety of emotions we experience, we care for each other, we live the life of Christ for each other, we complete God’s work alongside each other.

            As I was recovering this week from my surgery on Monday, I spent a good chunk of time watching the first season of the TV show, LOST. For those unfamiliar with the show, it is about a group of 40-some survivors of a plane crash, who have ended up on a strange island in the middle nowhere. Of course in the first few episodes they are mostly just trying to survive, each man and woman for him or herself, until someone comes to save them. But as time goes on it becomes clear that no one is coming. It becomes clear to them that every man for himself is not going to allow them to survive. The only way they will be able to survive is if they pool their resources, draw on each other’s unique gifts, and care for each other. Although the show so far has very few explicit religious themes, this overarching theme that becomes so essential to their survival is exactly what Jesus in this story, and indeed the Christian witness as a whole, has to say: we are a community that must take care of each other.

            Today is All Saints’ Day. On this day each year, we remember those who have died in the past year, those saints who have blessed our lives and have gone on to the Church Triumphant. But I think this story about raising Lazarus from the dead urges us to think about those saints still here on earth – you and me.

            That word, saint, is I think often misunderstood. Maybe we associate “saint” with Catholicism, and say, “We Lutherans don’t believe in saints.” Or maybe we think that saints are only those who have died. But what Luther actually advocated was that all of us here on earth are already saints, even as we are still sinners. That is one of Luther’s buzz phrases: “we are simultaneously saint and sinner.” We cannot keep ourselves from sinning. That is our human nature, and we will always fall short. But even as we are sinners, we have also been declared holy – and that is what a saint is. Not self-declared holy, of course. Nothing we do makes us holy – that’s why Luther stresses that we are also always sinners, even as we are saints. Rather, we are holy because of God’s work in our baptism, because God makes us holy, God declares us holy.

            So, since we are all saints, and this is All Saints’ Day, let’s talk a bit about what it means to be a saint, what it means to be holy. In our Gospel, Jesus shows us that living a holy life means participating in the miraculous work of God. We find many ways to do this in the church. Just last week Bethlehem and St. Martin came together for a workday at Maggie’s Kids. Over the course of a few hours, we washed and organized their tables and chairs for their annual Thanksgiving dinner. We cleaned out some other areas and got their stoves ready for cooking. We also cleaned outside, repairing their chain link fence, removing litter, trimming bushes from around the fence, and raking and sweeping the parking lot. We also completed some repairs to the foundation and parking lot area and the side door threshold, with the help of one of the kids and a neighbor. Maggie’s Kids serves the children in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Rochester, providing them after-school care, tutoring, snacks, and clothing. To be a part of that in such a hands-on way truly felt like we were participating in God’s miraculous work, and living into our identity as saints on earth. 

We’ll have many more opportunities to participate in God’s work as the holidays approach – by collecting items for Christmas stockings, food for pantries, gifts for the Angel Tree, coats for Open Door Mission. Also through Bible study, as we learn more about God’s work throughout history, and prayer, as we hold up many people in need. One important way we participate in God’s miraculous work and live into our identity as saints is one we also lift up today, and that is in our financial giving. This church has a lot to offer, and a lot to give thanks for, and giving of our treasures is one essential way for us to participate in the work Bethlehem/St. Martin does. We will have an opportunity toward the end of today’s service to offer this participation and give thanks for it.

But I also want to stress that being saints, and participating in God’s holy work, do not only happen on Sunday morning, or at special events. Anything that has been set aside for God’s work, anything that is done in faith and with godly intentions, is holy. This certainly includes the things we do here – from Communion and Baptism and hearing the Word to service projects – but it is also things that you do every day. You are saints, you people of God, and whether you are lending an ear to a distressed colleague, or helping lead a Scout troop, or buying lunch for a stranger who doesn’t have enough money, or carefully deliberating over what candidates will best serve those in need in this country as you make your way to the polls this week… If God is at work in your actions to heal, comfort, and restore, then you are participating in the miraculous, saving work of Christ.

Today, like every day of the Christian life, is a day of thanksgiving. We give thanks for the witness of the saints, for all those people who have touched our lives. We give thanks for the saving work of Jesus. We give thanks that Jesus asks us to participate in that work, telling us to “come out” from our fears and sin and to “unbind” those who find themselves still captive to fear and death. We give thanks for the many blessings and gifts in our lives – our selves, our time, and our possessions. And we pray that God would show us ever new ways to live in thankfulness, to lead holy lives, to be the saints that Christ calls us out to be.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Klaus das Hund

Klaus the Dog has arrived! (Or as I like to call him, Klaus das Hundmeister!)

His old mommy told me he used to have his own blog, where she would tell stories about him, so I thought he deserved at least one blog post dedicated only to him. So this post, my dear pooch, is for you.

Things with Klaus are, well, about as good as could be expected, I suppose. It is heart-breaking to see how sad he is about losing his humans. Poor guy. They got him when he was four from a shelter. They've had him for four years. And everything was going swimmingly, everyone was happy... and then one day they drove him to my house and left him and didn't come back. His mom was playing with him, and threw the toy down the hall, and then slipped out the door without him seeing. When he came back with the toy, there was this horrible moment when he just looked down the stairs, still. He ran down and started whining and scratching at the door. I wanted to cry. Poor little guy!

So I was extra nice to him, took him for a little walk, scratched his ears, tried to play, invited him on the couch. He was unamused at first, but came around. He is quite the explorer, and the first thing he does in a new place is check out every room of the house, so that's what he started to do. Finally, he joined me on the couch, and I got this handsome picture:

After a few more hours, he started to warm up to me. He would crawl into my lap, up my chest, into my face, and lick uncontrollably. At first I thought it might be because I had some soup on my face, but he kept going! He does seem to love his new mama, even though he is still very sad.

So Day 1 went okay. When Michael came over that evening, he and Klaus got along fine, too. He especially loved the belly rubs. (But I still think he prefers his mama!) He is such a love. That night, however...

Klaus's old family told me that they let him sleep in bed with them. I love dogs, but I'm sorry, no dogs in my bed. That is my place. Klaus did not understand this. So he stood at the side of bed looking confused and whining for a good long while. "Don't acknowledge him," I thought. "It'll only encourage him." But he was breaking my heart! So then, even though I had JUST taken him out, he went and pooped in the guest bedroom. That was my surprise to find in the morning.

Day 2 was a little better - a little less pathetic, but still sad. He still just whimpers sometimes. I gave him a little bath, which was fun... after which he peed in the guest bedroom. (Could he not have gone in the tub?? Note to self: take the dog out first next time, before showering him with warm water.) I planned to take him with me to my couple of meetings, but right before we left, he pooped in the guest bedroom. Seriously?? I had JUST taken him out! So he got a lot of "bad dogs" and he got crated for a few hours. He was not amused. Neither was I.

Later that evening I took him to Michael's house, where he met Daisy the Collie again, this time on her own turf. It was okay! They tolerated each other just fine, and Klaus curled up with us on the couch while we watched TV. Like a little family. We have plans tomorrow to go for a family walk in the park, if the weather is okay. 

So how am I feeling about the whole dog ownership thing? So far, it definitely has its ups and downs. He has already delighted and infuriated me. He likes to follow me from room to room (even the bathroom), so I guess my alone time is no more, and I have to be careful not to trip on him. It is definitely a responsibility I will have to get used to, but it's a good step toward preparing for children, right? (Although I've heard crating babies is not an accepted method for dealing with babies who poop when and where you don't want them to...) I have definitely thought, "This was a mistake," but I have also been delighted, and I believe once everyone gets settled it won't feel like that anymore. So... so far so good, I guess?