Midsummer

Another long stretch between blogs, for which I should and will apologize. Life gets in the way sometimes. In fact, I'll make no promises about how soon I'll be posting again, as I have quite a bit of work piled up -- writing a Lenten devotional and two magazine articles, plus teaching two classes this fall and winter. Oh yes, and then there is my regular job.
It has been a long, dry hot summer so far, but with some watering and a heavy layer of mulch, we were able to coax a little produce out of the garden. That includes about 9 small pumpkins from one hill. They are Connecticut Field pumpkins, and I plan to try to can some of them for later use. My tomatoes -- including a Yugoslavian heirloom and a Roma-type called Federle, have been slow ripening but appear to be getting color now. With my prolific peppers and good crop of onions, that means salsa making in a couple of weeks.
Life has been good, if not spectacular, of late. Then again, I suppose a steady diet of spectacular would be overwhelming -- or at least get old. Of course, I am getting old, so maybe I and spectacular could grow old together. Hmmmm.

Freeze, Please

The new year is off to a reasonably good start. I've successfully avoided making any resolutions, which should effectively prevent the usual crushing disappointment that results when resolutions fail. I've been occupied lately by a ton of little tasks that I had put off until after the holidays. I guess I kind of got carried away with postponing things, but I'll dig my way to the bottom of this pile of little jobs eventually.
One nice thing about most of these little jobs is that they are in fact little. That means I get a great feeling of accomplishment by getting two or three marked off my list on most days. Another great thing about many of them is that they are very hands-on, which is a nice break from my creative work. Changing a furnace filter is pretty straightforward. Some of them are more physically demanding, but at least they are not mentally stressful. Since my occupation involves a lot of thinking, talking and listening, when I am able to do physical work, it doesn't really seem like work at all.
The nice weather (60's in January!) make it easy to get things done outside, but I'm beginning to get nervous about the prospect of a winter in which it never gets cold. If I wanted to live in South Carolina, I'd move there. It seems like South Carolina (or at least its climate) has moved here. 6 seed catalogs have me dreaming about my garden already, but I have a bad feeling about the growing season if we don't have at least a few weeks that the ground is frozen.
It seems funny to be wishing for cold weather, especially after all the winters past when I groused about the cold and wished I could take a get-away vacation to somewhere warm. Now it's warm where I live and I wish it was cold. But I'm not dreaming of a get-away to Alaska!

End of Year Statement

There is no time for anything fancy, and barely time for this quick note at the end of what has turned out to be a great year. Life has been good; may it continue to be so. But if it cannot be, then may the memories of 2006 be a source of comfort and inspiration. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away -- blessed be the name of the Lord.
It is unreasonable to expect every year to be as free of suffering as this past one, but I do hope that whatever 2007 holds, it will be a year in which my wisdom increases, a year in which my love for others grows deeper and broader, and a year in which I am granted (and sieze) many opportunities to participate in what God is doing in the world.
Happy New Year!

Hooray, It's (Yawn) Christmas!

Christmas is almost here, thank God. It isn't that I'm anxious to open presents or to feast. I do look forward to spending some extra time with family, but that's not it either. The reason I'm so grateful that Christmas is almost here is because I am exhausted!
I suppose it is an occupational hazard. It isn't just that there is so much more for a minister to do (which there is); it is also that the stakes are higher, with more people in the pews. Add the out-of-town guests and the two-timers (Christmas and Easter) to the regulars and it starts looking pretty good from the pulpit. But then it gets to you that so many people are expecting you to say something worth the time and effort it takes to listen. Sure, the choir, soloists and instrumentalists bear some of the burden, but believe me it is still stressful.
After twenty years, I no longer worry about coming up with something new to say. People don't want you to preach from Genesis or Revelation, and somehow tie it in to Christmas. They just want the straight stuff, right from Matthew, Luke and John. People want to hear about Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph, no room at the inn, shepherds in the field, wise men with gifts, etc. I just try to find a new way to tell the old, old story. Through the years, I've done okay, but every year I feel the pressure build.
So I guess my psychic weariness is understandable and acceptable. I mask it as well as I can, smiling my way through the Christmas eve service and as I greet the parishioners afterward. But, as my family knows well, when I go home, I am played out. That's why I always schedule a week's vacation right after Christmas. It gives me a chance to recharge and take the right attitude into the new year.
For the last few years, as we have travelled on Christmas day to see family, my wife has thoughtfully prepared an envelope with a card and small tip for the toll taker on the turnpike. She figures the guy deserves a little extra something for working on Christmas day so that the rest of us can use the road to reach our families. As she hands the toll taker the envelope, my wife smiles and says, "Thank you." She's nice.
If I'm driving, the toll taker will be lucky to get even a faint smile from me. I'll still be exhausted.

I Saw Santa

I saw Santa today.
He was in a blue Chevy pick-up, sitting in front of the New Windsor, Maryland, post office, readily recognizable due to his fluffy white beard and familiar red hat. He looked remarkably relaxed, considering this must be his busy season. Evidently, it has been a good year for the elves, and everything is ready to go, or at least ahead of schedule.
I didn't say, "Hi," because I figured he was off duty, and I know a little of what it is like to be bothered on your day off by well-meaning folks who just want to say hello. People don't always understand that this means you have to shift gears and put your game face on. Some days, you just want to blend in, go about your business and be left alone. Of course, if that was what Santa wanted, he shouldn't have worn the red hat.
Sure enough, an older lady who saw him after I did, shouted, "Hi, Santa!" He smiled and said, "Hi," back. She stopped at the window of his truck and they had what appeared to be a friendly conversation. I was inside by that time and couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were both smiling. Maybe she told him what she wanted for Christmas this year, and he said, "You bet!" or "No problem."
I read in a magazine the other day about a Santa Claus convention, somewhere in California, where several hundred men who look like Santa gathered to trade advice and war stories. The article said some of these guys make as much as $12,000 in the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, playing the part of Santa at malls, in parades and at private parties. But most of them say they don't do it for the money; they just enjoy bringing joy into the lives of others.
I like to bring joy into the lives of others, but I don't think I'd do so as Santa even if I could. As it is, I am at least thirty pounds underweight and I'd have to dye my hair. Besides, my beard isn't thick enough. I'd have the scraggliest beard of any Santa you ever saw. Fortunately, there are plenty of other ways to bring joy into the lives of others. Lately, I've been doing a pretty good job of it with butter spritz cookies.

Around the Corner

We received our first Christmas card and second seed catalog earlier this week, which means it should be winter, but the weather is not cooperating. Not that I'm complaining about mid-60's at the end of November, but it does seem strange. The grass is still growing. I cut it a couple of weeks ago, which seemed ridiculously late, and it could use another trim. I won't mow, simply on principle. I can't do it today, and I will never, ever mow grass in December north of the equator.
A cold blast is said to be right around the corner. It has been sweeping across the West and Midwest and will soon be here, just in time for Sunday's service kicking off Advent. It will help set the mood, I hope. I also hope some of the folks who haven't been as regular in their attendance this fall find their way back into the habit during the run-up to Christmas.
I don't think I would ever like to live in a place where it never got cold, though I always like the idea of taking a winter vacation to some place warm. Spending time on the beach sounds awfully good when you have had to worry about the wind chill for a few weeks. But then, sitting by a fire picking out the seeds for next year's tomatoes sounds pretty good, too. And the time for that is just around the corner.

Just Coffee

Stopped at Starbucks last night. I was getting sleepy at the end of a long day, and there is a Starbucks not far from the hospital where I’d made a late stop to visit a parishioner. I’m not actually a big fan of Starbucks. I think the coffee is too strong, the prices are too high and I think it is ridiculous to call a “small” a “tall.” But I had a gift card and it was convenient, so I stopped.
There was quite a line, especially for that time of day. It gave me time to look around and soak in the atmosphere – the aroma, lots of wood and gleaming metal, and the efficient aproned staff. I waited patiently while the people in front of me ordered things like mint chocolate macchiatos, lowfat soy lattes and cinnamon skim cappucinos. Then I stepped up and ordered a small (excuse me, I mean “tall”) cup of coffee. The fellow behind the cash register tried to play it cool, but I clearly saw a moment’s hesitation and a look of astonishment flash across his face. Just coffee?
He called it back to the fellow who actually fills the cups, and he too was shocked. He looked at me like I was a three-legged dog. I can easily imagine him going home later that same night and saying to his roommate, “You’ll never guess what happened at work tonight. This guy comes in and all he wants is coffee!” For a few seconds I considered trying to blend in better by adding something to my order – mints, a gingerbread cookie, or a CD of Christmas songs distributed exclusively by Starbucks. But I was pretty sure I didn’t have enough left on my gift card to cover much more than the coffee.
So I took my steaming hot, too strong coffee and quietly went over to the little station where you add cream, milk, or half and half, plus sugar (regular white or unrefined brown) or honey or artificial sweetener. I put in half and half, regular sugar, and gave it a stir. I put the lid back on and took a sip. It was still too strong, but I could live with it, so I left.
I’ve felt like a misfit many times in my life. Last night’s stop at Starbucks was just one more.