Whilst on the way to pray

The last two Sundays I've preached on the passages from Acts 16. I love those stories about the earliest days of the Church. I found especially intriguing the detour that Paul and Silas had on their way to pray (by the river? in Lydia's home?) where they did indeed pray, but not in anyway they could have imagined when they got up that morning.

Of course, I talked about those places God takes us when we think we've got our day well-planned. Of course, because I preached about those surprising detours, that before I'd even signed the parish register after the 5:30 PM Eucharist, my plan of home for dinner and a little tv after a full day of work was not to happen. A friend of a parish family had suddenly died, and they had no church home. Could we help? Of course we could.

Thus the week was full with rearranging schedules, meetings with the man's extended and estranged family, coordinating lay volunteers, and doing one of those funerals that I like to call "evangelism funerals". I call them evangelism funerals not because we have an altar call or come-to-Jesus-moment, but because people who would never be in church, are. It's a great opportunity to share Christ's hospitality, love, and comfort. The parish does these funerals for strangers so very well. The Daughters of the King (our women's prayer group) provides wonderful hospitality, and many others in the parish do their part in living Matthew 24. 34--36, "I was a stranger and you welcomed me."

I'm in the midst of another "whilst on the way to pray" moment in my personal life. Things are full of joy in the parish, and I've never been happier at St. Mary's. I'm off to Portland next month for my first grandson's baby shower, and my daughter has just quit her day job to work full time on her book.

But during Lent a couple of people approached me about being in another bishop search. I was not in any hurry to go through the process again, and was ready to say no, when Holy Spirit twists and turns ended up with a conversation on Maundy Thursday (of all days) that led me to know that I had to say yes. I was most hesitant because I did not want to put the parish through a search process again, but it appeared that all would be very private until right before the final candidates were named in August, and the election would be held soon after that in September. If I were not made a candidate, there would be no stress at all to the parish.

But it turned out not to be so private. Today the diocese posted on the diocesan website the names of the 15 priests who have been nominated by a member of the clergy and a lay person, have written nine papers, and submitted videos of those responses being made orally. The process is to be all public from the very beginning.

So here I am again in another bishop search. I know the process in Connecticut was the most challenging thing I'd ever done in ministry and one of the very best, too. I know how much I've grown and changed in the past year from being in the Connecticut episcopal election. I know that being part of this process is once again being obedient to God--being willing to change the direction of my life in order to serve God.

Peonies at the Farm

I drove to Dallas this week to make a video with my brother. I had done this a year ago when I was in the process for bishop of Connecticut, and it wasn't any easier the second time, but it was affirming to see how much I had grown and changed in a year's time. I was answering questions about my call to ministry, and I am much clearer and more centered about who I am called to be--with the best two words to describe it as missionary and deacon.

My brother makes films for a living, but he's been making videos of my family for about 40 years. He's an Episcopalian, too, and so we had some very good conversation about the questions and answers.

The bonus was driving another hour or so north to spend a few days at my mother's on her farm in Chambersville--land that has been in the family for over 150 years (a long time by Texas standards). She's so far out of town that she only has dial up internet, so we had to drive into town to Starbuck's to find a place for me to send some emails. This was a new adventure for her.

Then we had a very good time together. We gardened and cooked and laughed. She worked on the quilt she's making for her great-grandson, Austin Jack, due in July, while I knitted away on my grandson, Austin Jack's, baby blanket. Firsts (great grand and grand) for each of us! I'll be going to Portland in June for his baby shower.

We were also basking in the news that my daughter has a very good book deal for a cookbook based on her blog--it will contain her fabulous photography, her delicious recipes, and great stories. It's a very fine moment in a mom's life when both children are doing very well.

To top everything off--the peonies were blooming at my mother's. I drove back to Houston with my car full of their fabulous smell.

Touched by Grace Extraordinaire

This is my tenth visit to Our Lady of Grace Monastery in Beech Grove Indiana. I came eight times as a Woman Touched by Grace, part of a Lilly Foundation Sustaining Pastoral Excellence grant which funded twice a year ten day visits to the monastery for a group of thirty women pastors. Each time we sang the Office with the sisters of Our Lady of Grace, had a different speaker which presented tools and tips for being healthy clergy (the Lilly Grants for SPE were given with the premise that healthy pastors make healthy congregations) and had time for massages, walks, field trips, play, and Covenant Groups.

My ninth visit was last fall. I came six days for the first session of three year preparation to become an Oblate of Our Lady of Grace Monastery.

This time I came to be one of the "speakers" for the second Women Touched by Grace group. This group of twenty women have gathered five times at the monastery. This is their last session under the Lilly grant.

This second Women Touched by Grace pastors have nicknamed themselves Women Touched by Grace Extraordinaire. It was better than being called WTBG Second Class.

However, after praying and playing and pondering and painting and being with these women, I'm not sure that second class is not a very good thing. After all, in the world of movies, the sequel is at times better than the original, or as good in its own way.

A few years ago, because of connections with a friend, I got to fly first class several times. I also used miles to upgrade on a couple of long trips (it's the only way to fly to Turkey!). I always say that no one appreciates first class more than I do. However, on a recent flight, a very unusual thing happened. There were many open seats--but all of them in coach. As I walked through the packed first class cabin, every seat was taken, but those of us in coach (ie second class) could each have our own row, and even empty seats behind us so that we could recline our seats without acting as if we were the center of the world. We had two flight attendants serving us (as opposed to the one in the packed first class). That day, no one appreciated it more than I did to be in the comfort of second class.

So to those twenty women pastors of Women Touched by Grace, the Sequel, Second Class, Extraordinaire: Susan, Patti, Janell, Karen, Kim, Miriam, Yolande, Janet, Mary, Haeran, Susan, Jane, Michelle, Deana, Nancy, Karen, Margaret, Susan, Laurie, Nancy, and Sister Mary Luke and Sister Betty, you are each gifted in extraordinary ways (and I speak from experience). More importantly, you are abundantly touched by God's grace. What could be any better than that?

Touched by Grace, you are women touched by Grace,

From the hand of God, from the heart of God,

Who sends you forth, who sends you forth to serve.

A couple of Lenten gifts

During my Lenten journey I discovered a podcast and read a book that were Lenten treasures. They are too good not to share.

For the past several years, I've gone to Our Lady of Grace Monastery in Beech Grove, Indiana on retreats. My next trip will be Easter Tuesday. One of my favorite moments after arriving is the first time I walk into the chapel for the daily office. When I join the voices of the dear sisters singing the invitatory and the psalms, my spirit melts.

I discovered a podcast of another Benedictine Monastery that posts the offices of Lauds (early morning) and Vespers (evening) daily. Though they pray a little faster and have less silence than the sisters of OLOG during worship, the sound of these sisters singing takes me back home to the monastery. It's been a great Lenten companion.

I love finding books and music that have a spiritual twist, especially when they are firmly rooted in the non-religious market. My favorite non-traditional Lenten book is Lambs of God by Marele Day. It's a book about knitters in a monastery. The knitting sisters are a closed order on an isolated island that are unexpectedly visited by a priest who wants to close the monastery and make the island into a getaway for the rich. What I love most, besides those knitting sisters and their sheep, is the way that these women keep the liturgy of the hours and the holy seasons without watches or clocks but simply by following the growing and waning light. The story is neatly tied together with a few twists and a satisfying ending.

A lenten hat

A few years ago I went to Nova Scotia with my best friend. While poking around a knitting shop in Baddeck, she spotted some yarn that she thought would make a cute hat. Though I'd only knit one other hat (for a baby and with my knitting friend Kathryn's help), of course I was delighted to be able to do something nice for this dear friend. How hard could knitting a hat be? I tend to overbuy yarn, but the knitting store helper in Baddeck assured me that the skein of yarn was what it had taken for the "model" hat.

The two year hat saga began. Experienced knitters can predict each twist in the plot.

It was thinner yarn (actually sock yarn) than I usually used so I was knitting on what, for me, were tiny needles (give me chunky yarn and size 12 needles!). The yarn also liked to unravel a bit so I had to be careful not to split stitches. After a year of knitting off and on, with the minor trauma of that final web of double pointed needles, I proudly delivered the one skein hat to my friend. She was ever so grateful.

No surprise, of course, the hat was more like a beany than a hat that would actually keep my friend's head warm. Of course she was gracious about the size, but it was too small to really be useful.

We were going back to Baddeck in the fall, so I took the hat back to the shop to see if they had a second skein. Of course they didn't, and of course the yarn could not be found elsewhere. I finally decided to rip out and add additional inches with some some solid yarn that complimented the stripes of the hat.

Unknitting and knitting I was near the end once again when I made a mistake on the double pointed needle part and just put the hat away until I could face it once again. From time to time my friend would kindly ask after the hat, watching me knit through other projects.

When I decided to start a major poncho project for my daughter, and then with the happy future opportunity of a blanket for the grandbaby due in July, I knew that I needed to get the hat finished first.

And so I carefully ripped out once again. I carefully knit and unknit and finally finished the hat. It was pretty cute. As I careful wove in spare threads and trimmed them, I was aghast when I accidentally cut the thread too close and made a cut into the hat itself. The best I could do was applique a small design over the hole ("Is this your logo?" asked my friend) and finally send it on.

She says she love her hat and that it looks adorable. But the twists and turns of knitting and unknitting and knitting and repairing the hat is a pretty fine metaphor for my own spiritual journey: trying something just a bit beyond my comfort level--then making my share of mistakes and do-overs, and in the end--something new and stunning.

Not a bad place to be traveling during Lent.