The North Shore?

I'm still adjusting to life in the Midwest. Growing up in Massachusetts, the North Shore meant the part of Massachusetts that was on the ocean, north of Boston. Up here, it means the North Shore of Lake Superior. If you want a sense of the geography click here. I live on the south part, at the base of the peninsula that contains Houghton/Hancock and Copper Harbor. (I'm just above that little cluster of mountains.) If you drove on highways all around Lake Superior, it would be over 1000 miles.

My friends Letha & Scott and I just spent 40 glorious hours on the North Shore (9 miles north of Grand Marais) in a house belonging to friends of theirs. It was glorious. The sun was shining. It was cold (but not as cold as it could have been, given that it is winter and we were in Minnesota). We played tons of games (Scrabble, Five Crowns, cards) and ate great food. We drank way more than our share of red wine. I proved (against some odds) to be the Fire Queen, getting some good fires going in the big stone fireplace. Letha and I took a great hike on the Superior Hiking Trail.

Wildlife abounded. We saw cardinals, blue jays, gulls, nuthatches, chickadees, and eagles. A bald eagle flew in from over the water yesterday and spent about 20 minutes in a tree across the street until it headed off to fish. Today, it (or another?) came back while I was in the shower. Several small red squirrels that chided us whenever we left the house and disturbed their meals at the feeders.

We walked on the beach yesterday and today. The north shore's beach is really rocky. The lake has not frozen this year, and some interesting things were happening on the beach. The rocks froze in clusters. We saw these amazing ledges made from ice, gravel, and larger rocks. As the sun melted the ice today, they were collapsing. As we stood there, we could hear the rocks dropping four to six inches.

There was also a deer carcass on the beach, which had fed a host of carnivores. Our best guess is that it was hit on the road nearby, wandered onto the beach, and died there.

In the house, we had no cell phone coverage, no internet, no television. I feel rested and recharged. Total miles driven for this adventure: 589.

Two more eagles

Or, maybe it was the same eagle twice.

Manuel and I drove to Ironwood together yesterday. On the ride over, we saw a murder of crows feasting on a dead deer by the side of the road. With them was a bald eagle, also feasting. Because bald eagles have been so much a part of my time here, I was very excited.

Manuel said that he'd seen so many of them that he didn't even get excited anymore. I hope that doesn't happen to me. When I see a bald eagle, my heart quickens. I give a little gasp. And I grin like a fool from ear to ear.

On the way home, we saw the same murder of crows feasting; an eagle (perhaps the same one) was feasting, as well. I don't care if it was the same eagle. My heart beat quickened. I gasped and grinned. And I counted it again.

Running UP eagle count: 7

Do you think it's about Baptismal Ministry?

Since I moved into this house in July, I've had at least ten plumbing issues. First, it was the sewage pipes which had been entirely destroyed by tree roots. One memorable Sunday night, I realized that the basement floor was covered with (ick) raw sewage. For several days, I was without water, as they sorted out the problem and then replaced the entire sewer pipe system from house to road. I first suspected a problem when the basement floor was covered in water whenever I did laundry. Laundry runoff water was leaking back into the basement from a crack in the foundation. That's so bad.

Since then, they've replaced the heating elements in the hot water heater because the hot water would conk out mid-shower. And fixed a leak in the basement that was actually coming from the bathroom (water leaking from the toilet tank). And done some more rotorooter - when the laundry run off started coming in again. And fixed a leak from the washer itself.

Last night, while I was doing dinner clean up, the garbage disposal finally went south. And both sinks in the kitchen refused to drain. And the disposal began to leak really fast. Picture me with buckets running between tub and under sink. Bailing the sinks frantically. The good news: Ron the plumber came today, put in new disposal (thank God!) and replaced pipes all over the place. The kitchen sink drains. Hooray.

At the end of each plumbing event, I've thought to myself. "OK. The house sat empty for 19 years. You expect some maintainance to have built up. But, we're done now."

So tonight, when I went down to do laundry, I lost it when there was, again, water all over the basement floor. I said many many many bad words. I yelled. I screamed. I cleared everything away from the puddle, and gave thanks that my tent was dry. I played with the valve that seemed to be leaking - only to cause more water to spray out. So, I called Chuck. Again. And he came over. Again. Happily, it was a simple bolt-tightening thing.

After he left, I decided that maybe this is God's sense of humour. What we do here is Baptismal ministry. We all have ministry by virtue of our baptism. Perhaps there's so much water in my basement because God wants to make sure that I get the baptism metaphor. She does have a sense of humor.

Virginia, Florida, Virginia, Home

This has been a week on the road, but in a more far-flung way than usual. Last Saturday, I departed Ontonagon before sunrise (which was really about 7:50am, but we don't want to talk about that, do we?). Because I live in the UP and flights in and out are limited, I did a little creative traveling. My ultimate destination was DelRay Beach, Florida. The training I was attending ran from early Monday am until 3pm on Weds. We were asked to book flights that left after 5 on Weds, so that we did not leave the training early. Turns out, you can't leave DelRay Beach after 5 and get home to the UP on the same day. So, I got creative and booked one round trip from Marquette to DCA (National Airport) and then one from DCA to Palm Beach.

I spent Saturday in Washington/Northern Virginia, visiting with friends and enjoying the Fawcett's hospitality; Sunday, I worshipped at St. Anne's and generally reveled in being back with so many folks that I love. Dinner with Kate before flying out completed the day.

After a two hour delay on Sunday night, I flew to Florida where I was trained to be an anti-racism trainer for the Episcopal Church. The weather was warm and sunny, but the training was long and tiring, so I didn't get to enjoy Florida nearly as much as I might have if I had been there for something less taxing. I still managed a long brisk walk on Monday night and an evening sitting outside and visiting with other trainees on Tuesday. This was not, however, a day at the beach!

I must say, there's nothing like several days of listening to people talk about the kinds of cruelty they have experienced because of race (and class, and gender, and sexual orientation) to make me want to cry. Or get violent. Or (at least on good days) actively work to change the world.

I returned to VA on Weds night, had more time with friends, flying out at noon on Friday. Thursday morning, Kate and I took a walk in the sun, watching birds and admiring creation at Huntley Meadows. The beauty of that place and the gift of our conversation did much to recharge my soul.

I survived an amazing airport adventure in Minneapolis. [We won't even talk about the fact that I thought I was going to Detroit, since nearly every flight from DCA to MQT goes through Detroit, and it was only when I got to the airport and the Northwest agent said, "Gardner, going to Minneapolis," when she handed me my luggage tag that I learned otherwise!] I landed in Minneapolis at 1:45CT for a 3:35CT flight to MQT. The monitor said that the flight was delayed until 4:30. I got some sushi, poked in a bookstore, fought with the airport wifi, and finally, about 2:55, I wandered off to the gate. The plane was now listing at 5:05. I called the friend who agreed to meet me at the airport, and alerted her to the great lateness of the flight. Settled at my gate, fought with the wifi somemore, and then heard someone talking about a flight that was not going to Marquette. So, I wandered off, at 3:28 to check the status of my flight and see if it had moved gates. The flight had moved to a new gate, and reverted to being on time. I raced back, scooped up my stuff, sprinted to the new gate, and discovered that the plane was actually boarding. Great aerobic exercise. I bought the older Barak Obama book to read in the airport, since my first book would not stand the test of the extra hours, and then I slept most of the way from MSP to MQT. Sigh.

I'm in MQT, at the apartment, but it's closer to home then I've been in a week, and it feels great.

What kind of reader are you?

This quiz comes from my friend Lisa the Librarian. Several of you may remember Lisa, from when she was Lisa the Library School Student - and crashed on my dorm floor in Alexandria periodically during my first year. Those of you who know me well won't be surprised by the quiz results. Where do you fall?

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Book Snob
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Sam - Samwell - Samaroonie - Sammy - Samuel - Monster Cat

I don't want to turn this into a blog about how my cat is the king of the freaking universe, or even just one more cat blog. But, he is pretty cute. And he is turning into Sam the Wonder Cat of Many Names.

He has a number of endearing qualities that I simply must share (especially as I am about to abandon him for a week while I'm in FL and VA. Cheers to Jeannie who will feed, water, toss catnip mice, and scoop while I'm gone!):

• That boy can eviscerate a catnip mouse in about ten minutes. He's pretty good with the dangly feather toy, too.
• When I am at the table and not sitting flat against the back of my chair, he leaps onto my back (but with no claws out) then crawls up onto my shoulder. He does that when I am playing cards, too.
• He's cute. Have I mentioned that?
• His favourite place to snuggle is with back paws on my lap, front paws on my sternum, and head nuzzling mine. It's pretty fab. Since my first cat induced me to take her home from the shelter by placing one front paw on each shoulder and tucking her head under my chin and then never did it again I'm pretty thrilled that this behaviour hasn't vanished.
• He loves toys and plays with all of them, chasing mice and rubber balls with abandon.
• He comes when I call him.
• He sleeps at the foot of my bed.
• My desk is a honkingly big old metal desk with a typing tray that juts out at a ninety degree angle. I leave it open so that I have one more surface to clutter. Except that now it's HIS space. He sleeps there when I'm working at the desk. He's there now, purring away.

On the other hand, lest you think he is only angelic:

• He sometimes tries to sleep on the paperwork, on the laptop, on the cluttered desk. It's hard to type with a cat lying on the keys.
• If his food bowl is empty, he wakes me up at 6am.
• I've caught him sharpening his claws on the chair that belongs to the parish. I wouldn't like it any better if he sharpened his claws on MY chair, but at least it would be MY chair. Y'kno?
• He can be an insistent pain in the ass if he wants to be cuddled and I am, say, writing a sermon... or a blog entry.
• He has, on several occasions bitten when annoyed. Mostly it was my mother, though.

New Year's Eve Sermon

I thought the sermon I preached on New Year's Eve was pretty good, so I thought I'd share it here. I preached it from the pulpit at Church of the Ascension in Ontonagon at the 10am service, and then preached it agin, largely from memory (though holding my notes in my lap!) at Explore on Sunday night.

Also, I read Sarey's sermon posted on her LJ, and thought it was even better - wish I'd written it. Here is the link to her sermon: Dragons, Dracula, and Darth Vader.

Text for the Day: John 1:1-18
We are in the midst of the twelve days of Christmas, so the folks who fashioned the lectionary that we use to determine our weekly readings chose to focus on stories of Jesus’ origins. On Christmas Eve, we heard Luke’s version of the story of Jesus’ nativity, replete with angels and shepherds, and, of course, a baby in a manger. John’s version of this same story is much more cosmic. Jesus is the logos, the word and wisdom of God, who has been with God since “The Beginning.”

For John, that’s the same beginning that we hear about in Genesis… In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And it was the logos, the sophia, that gave voice to God’s creating power. That word mediated the creative power of God, created with God, and continues to be a source of life and light, a beacon of hope in and for the world.

That Logos, John tells us, eventually took on flesh and came to dwell among us. In the biblical Greek, the word for flesh is sarx; it’s an earthy word. This is not some ethereal body we’re talking about here, this is physical flesh and blood. And the biblical Greek word skayno, here translated as dwell, can also be translated as tent among. The first century Jews, upon hearing this, would remember that the tabernacle of the covenant traveled with the Israelites in a tent during their time in the desert.

In the Episcopal church, we have an Incarnational-God-With-Us-Emmanuel theology, and it takes its roots right here in the poetic language of John.

John also tells us that the logos is the light for the people, shining in the darkness.

Right at the moment, when I look at the world we live in, I feel like we could use a little light. There’s civil war in Sudan and Somalia. Deadly natural disasters in Southeast Asia and Texas. Corruption in the ongoing Katrina recovery efforts. Saddam Hussein executed for his vicious crimes against humanity; the news of his execution greeted with celebration and dancing in the streets. Church fights about biblical interpretation, orthodoxy, and who belongs. It’s grim.

But grimness is not, in fact, all that there is. There is light in the world, if we have eyes to see it. John tells us that there were those who did not recognize the light, the logos.

During the time that I managed the bookstore, a book came out called Pay it Forward. It was one of those lovely mind-candy books that doesn’t have a ton of substance, but spent time on the bestseller lists. It was a feel-good book that left me in tears at the end – my favourite kind of reading experience, really. And then it got made into a movie.

The basic plot is that a social studies teacher assigns his middle school class a project: to do something to change the world, for extra credit. One twelve year old boy in the class comes up with the idea of Paying Forward. The idea is that if someone does you a favour, you don’t pay them back, you pay the favour forward. And you don’t pay it forward once, you pay it forward three times. It doesn’t have to be a huge thing, it just has to be an unexpected kindness. Helping someone else who is in need. And, you don’t do it just once. For each kindness done for you, you pay forward three times. So that one person does a nice thing for three people, who each do a nice thing for three people, so that nine people then pay forward to twenty-seven…. You get the idea.

John tells us that the logos came to shed light on places of darkness and that the darkness could not overcome the light. This true light, John tells us, will enlighten everyone. I particularly like the translation that comes from the Jesus’ seminar’s book calledThe Five Gospels: “Genuine light – the kind that provides light for everyone - was coming into the world.”

Darkness is not a bad thing; I love darkness. In fact, one of the things I grew weary of when I lived in Northern Virginia was that it’s never truly dark. I love being on the beach in Ontonagon, late at night, when the only light comes from the stars, and it’s really truly dark. But sometimes, you need to see. A tree fell on power lines near my house several months ago, and for several hours it was really really dark. I lit a candle and the effect was immediate. Darkness dispelled.

I heard about a story on NPR this week about a girl named Hallie Geier. Hallie was almost twelve when she was struck and killed by an SUV near her house. Shortly after her death, her parents found her journal, in which she’d written, “People – be nice to each other. Love, Hallie.”

Her family discovered that she had saved nearly $400 from her daily lunch money to help children with HIV/AIDS in Africa. Her parents created a foundation called Love Hallie to continue the work their daughter had been passionate about. They learned of the Agape Orphanage in South Africa where all the children were AIDS orphans. Some of them recorded a CD to raise funds to improve their facility, but before the work could be done, the orphanage burned to the ground in an electrical fire.

Love, Hallie brought ten of these children to New York, where they performed in concerts, and made connections in the music industry. They have raised enough money to rebuild their orphanage. In the spirit of the Love Hallie foundation, these AIDS orphans in South Africa donated 10% of their raised funds to help with ongoing reconstruction after Hurricane Katrina. One girl’s generosity created a circle of caring and compassion that brought light and life to a variety of places in the world.

During Advent, some of the women from St. John’s Church in Iron River made preemie hats. On the first Sunday of Advent, I talked about the MDGs in my sermon there, and encouraged people to support the goals. I talked about financial support, and then I talked about other ways to support the goals. As one example of a non-monetary project, I showed them the wee baby hat I was knitting to send to Save the Children to help combat infant mortality in developing countries. At coffee hour, several women asked for hat patterns. We all knitted – in meetings, watching movies, in the car, whenever we could. And yesterday, I mailed off a box of sixty-seven hats to Save the Children. Sixty-seven babies in Bangladesh and Malawi now have an increased chance at life. Sixty-seven little lights shining in the darkness.

The logos is the light shining in the world. But so are we. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells those who would follow him: YOU are the light of the world. And he gave lots of examples of how to be that light. Love God. Love Neighbor. Feed. Clothe. Visit. Care. Have a party and don’t invite those who can return the favour, invite those who cannot.

The amazing thing about our Incarnational Theology is that Jesus’ coming into the world empowers each of us to become partners with the logos in light-bearing. We are the light of the world. We can bring light by paying forward kindnesses received, feeding those who are hungry, sharing what we have, telling the story of the Good News of the logos.

You are the light of the world. Go shine.