Every autumn is marked by our annual women's retreat. This year is no exception. A giant growing pile of books, decorations, work materials, papers, and 'retreat stuff' line a long wall in my office as I blog. Tonight, I go home to begin packing and gathering my personal items to bring along.
I am a sucker for the seasons. Autumn, winter, spring and summer mark time in my life. Each season offers it own blessed favorites like crisp crunchy leaves, or hot chocolate, or earthly smells or hot summer days at the lake. Moreover, I am also a sucker for church seasons of advent, epiphany, lent, Easter, Pentecost, and kingdom-tide. Maybe it is the latent percussionist in me that relishes a firm, strong rhythm in life.
Somewhere in between the seasons and liturgical seasons there is a moment for women's retreat ministry. And it has it's own moment in my life and ministry rhythm. I can tell when I switch from preparing with nervousness to preparing with great expectation and joyfulness.
Retreats, themselves, if you lead many of them have their own internal rhythm and movement underneath all the busy action of sessions, meals, snack breaks, and worship. That too brings it's own joy and watchfulness.
Actually, watchfulness is a great word to describe my vantage point on retreat. Watchful of the women gathered and their needs (spiritually as well as emotionally). Watchful of my team and their amazing abilities and gifted-ness to lead and minister to other women. Watchful of the Holy Spirit weaving and moving among us... and then as we return to the fold of our larger congregation.
So, I covet your prayers this weekend as I am "watcher of twenty five Calvary women".
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Hello Gram!
Dear Gram,
Miss you! Especially I miss our Sunday morning hugs at church! By the way- Diana has her little red plastic busy box still.
The past year has gone slow and very, very fast. Hard to imagine that a year ago at this time you were making your final transition into God's arms. Gosh- there have been so many moments I picked up the phone to call you and share a story, a laugh or to say hi. Deleting your home phone number from my cell took me five months to do.
I know where and how you are and that truly has been a comfort. Just miss you.
You know how we are so I won't waste time on that. I need to try your yeast roll recipe this Thanksgiving and see if I can get them as light as yours. I have been using all your cards and notes! Being surrounded by your Bibles and study books on my office shelves has been like having a blanket of love!
I am trying to share and express my love for you in new and different ways. I want to live your legacy out in my living and loving. We have a scholarship for women to attend retreat every year because of your witness.
Give everyone hugs and kisses from us! Aunt Anna Lou, Rodney and Grandpa, especially!
Love you,
Michelle
Miss you! Especially I miss our Sunday morning hugs at church! By the way- Diana has her little red plastic busy box still.
The past year has gone slow and very, very fast. Hard to imagine that a year ago at this time you were making your final transition into God's arms. Gosh- there have been so many moments I picked up the phone to call you and share a story, a laugh or to say hi. Deleting your home phone number from my cell took me five months to do.
I know where and how you are and that truly has been a comfort. Just miss you.
You know how we are so I won't waste time on that. I need to try your yeast roll recipe this Thanksgiving and see if I can get them as light as yours. I have been using all your cards and notes! Being surrounded by your Bibles and study books on my office shelves has been like having a blanket of love!
I am trying to share and express my love for you in new and different ways. I want to live your legacy out in my living and loving. We have a scholarship for women to attend retreat every year because of your witness.
Give everyone hugs and kisses from us! Aunt Anna Lou, Rodney and Grandpa, especially!
Love you,
Michelle
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
A Post about Pickles the Caterpillar
An update on Pickles is worthy of a post on my blog because on the day of Diana's birthday party we released Pickles into the wood's at Calvary UMC. Be free, little friend!
We did that because he belongs in nature and my husband did not want him eating our leaves. Mostly we did that because I was the only one cleaning out his poop in the pickles jar.
Do you have any idea how much caterpillar's poop? A tremendous amount for such a little creature! Geez, I could not keep up! I do wonder if I gave him an upset tummy with all that baby spinach. Hmm...
Not to worry though, we have ordered a set of Painted Ladies butterfly cocoons. They are due to arrive any time. Hopefully, being in a cocoon will mean- no pooper scooper duty for this mom! We'll let you know more ...soon!
We did that because he belongs in nature and my husband did not want him eating our leaves. Mostly we did that because I was the only one cleaning out his poop in the pickles jar.
Do you have any idea how much caterpillar's poop? A tremendous amount for such a little creature! Geez, I could not keep up! I do wonder if I gave him an upset tummy with all that baby spinach. Hmm...
Not to worry though, we have ordered a set of Painted Ladies butterfly cocoons. They are due to arrive any time. Hopefully, being in a cocoon will mean- no pooper scooper duty for this mom! We'll let you know more ...soon!
8 on the 8th of September
A little over a week ago we celebrated a special once-in-a-lifetime birthday at our house. Our daughter turned eight on September 8, 2012.
I recall my once-in-a-lifetime birthday when I turned 13 on the 13th of May back in junior high. Either I was paying attention or it was a lot of coincidence but many things appeared by way of the number 13 around that special birthday. The number thirteen has always been my lucky number. I am mystified that so many folks experience 13 as unlucky. They're missing out, I think.
My daughter enjoys, like all kiddos, hearing about her beginnings. We laugh about how my labor and delivery room was Number 8. The doctor hollered to the nurse to write down time of birth as 12:08pm on September 8, 2004. Eight just may be my kiddo's lucky number!
Two Saturdays ago we lived it up with two parties for her special birthday! Games and giggles with her girlfriends and then family, food and fun with her grandparents! We've got stories to tell about runaway water balloons, escaped helium balloons, and a pinata that flew.
Mostly I am proud of the photo you see below. Weeks ago our daughter announced that she wanted to play her piano for the homeless people, because she thought they'd like it. We began a conversation about homeless people and poverty. And as we prepared for her birthday Diana decided she wanted to do something different. She asked her friends to bring food to the local food pantry in Avon in lieu of gifts for herself. (One mom was so inspired she told me she spent extra money than she normally did on a gift just to help others.)
A trunk full of food later... the Monday after her birthday party Diana delivered the food. The volunteers there fell over themselves about her little birthday food drive! They asked for her address. The church secretary took her picture. She was given a VIP tour of their storage facilities for all the fresh and canned food. Her eyes were big.
We got into the car and drove to her piano lesson. After about five minutes she asked, "So, Momma the people who come there to get all that food. Do they pay dollars for the food like we do?"
"No, honey. They don't because they do not have any dollars to buy the food at the store like we do."
"Oh." It was the loudest sound I heard for another fifteen minutes as all the meanings and significance of that sunk in.
She still wants to play her piano for the homeless people... and by golly, this Momma is going to get that arranged! :)
Happy Birthday, Diana darling- you are smart, beautiful and amazingly compassionate! Keep it up, sweetie!
I recall my once-in-a-lifetime birthday when I turned 13 on the 13th of May back in junior high. Either I was paying attention or it was a lot of coincidence but many things appeared by way of the number 13 around that special birthday. The number thirteen has always been my lucky number. I am mystified that so many folks experience 13 as unlucky. They're missing out, I think.
My daughter enjoys, like all kiddos, hearing about her beginnings. We laugh about how my labor and delivery room was Number 8. The doctor hollered to the nurse to write down time of birth as 12:08pm on September 8, 2004. Eight just may be my kiddo's lucky number!
Two Saturdays ago we lived it up with two parties for her special birthday! Games and giggles with her girlfriends and then family, food and fun with her grandparents! We've got stories to tell about runaway water balloons, escaped helium balloons, and a pinata that flew.
Mostly I am proud of the photo you see below. Weeks ago our daughter announced that she wanted to play her piano for the homeless people, because she thought they'd like it. We began a conversation about homeless people and poverty. And as we prepared for her birthday Diana decided she wanted to do something different. She asked her friends to bring food to the local food pantry in Avon in lieu of gifts for herself. (One mom was so inspired she told me she spent extra money than she normally did on a gift just to help others.)
A trunk full of food later... the Monday after her birthday party Diana delivered the food. The volunteers there fell over themselves about her little birthday food drive! They asked for her address. The church secretary took her picture. She was given a VIP tour of their storage facilities for all the fresh and canned food. Her eyes were big.
We got into the car and drove to her piano lesson. After about five minutes she asked, "So, Momma the people who come there to get all that food. Do they pay dollars for the food like we do?"
"No, honey. They don't because they do not have any dollars to buy the food at the store like we do."
"Oh." It was the loudest sound I heard for another fifteen minutes as all the meanings and significance of that sunk in.
She still wants to play her piano for the homeless people... and by golly, this Momma is going to get that arranged! :)
Happy Birthday, Diana darling- you are smart, beautiful and amazingly compassionate! Keep it up, sweetie!
The SWAT Team, Our Dog, and Evidence that I Am Still Growing in My Faith
You know feeling when you're heart hangs suspended in your chest, your breath catches and the bubbling sensation of panic erupts in your stomach? That feeling came over me like a tidal wave on Saturday.
In the midst of a glorious autumn day while potting my new mums, my husband calls me (early) from his test taking experience of the GMAT. I see his number and name on my phone and wonder why he is calling three hours too soon. The test cannot be finished by now.
Answering the phone, I hear him say, "Oh, hey babe... ah, my test isn't done. It is frozen because we're all out here in the parking lot."
"What?! Why?", I feebly ask.
"Oh, the SWAT team arrived and have the place surrounded because some armed crazy man has been cornered in the building and they want us out here."
My breathing stops, as my mind whirls from praying about Eric's concentration on this vital test to determine his path into graduate school to his physical safety. Lord, just bring him home alive, I pray.
Eric says, "Oh, gotta go, the team is going in." ACK! is all I think as we hang up muttering quick "I love you's".
I attempt to go about my long list of home chores which includes washing the beast of a dog (because he is itching and scratching like crazy and he stinks. He smells foul.) With my arms loaded with old towels and doggie shampoo I make my way into the backyard where the dog should be. Emphasis on the should.
Somebody left the gate open. And it wasn't me and it wasn't Eric. And now my dog (without his collar and ID tag because he was about to get a bath) is rooming the streets! Having not yet shifted out of my panic for my husband's safety, I am now in deep throttle mode of all out freak out.
I do not handle freak out well. I tend to cuss like a sailor or at least his/her preacher/chaplain. Sad to admit to my reading audience of two or three, but my poise isn't pretty at this moment. The balance has been tipped and I have reached my maximum load. My husband is with SWAT team and armed crazy man. our dog is loose on the street possibly hit by a car, lost, or picked up by someone who thinks he would be a great pet. I am in full and utter freak out mode.
I run around the house hollering for the dog and down the street calling for him.
My daughter runs out of the house barefoot with a box of doggie treats with the idea to 'leave a trail for him to follow'. Then, it dawns on her why her parents make a point of emphasizing that she needs to do what we as her to do. Like closing the gate to the backyard. As that thought illuminates in her mind, tears form and she is a repentant mess.
We climb in the car... prepared to search the neighborhood. And then fan out block by block. No sight of him. In between my cussing and panic moments, I do utter a few prayers, "Jesus, help me find my dog." My kiddo says, "Momma, we gotta think positive." And she prays while her mother cusses from the front seat.
When we swing back into the neighborhood, we stop a guest at our neighbor's house and inquire about the dog. Our neighbor has found Duke and returned him to our backyard. Hallelujah!
The dog gets washed. My cussing stops. The kid repents of her error. All is forgiven.
And we wait on my husband to return home two hours after his test should have finished. We have no idea if the armed crazy man was caught and arrested, but we do know that Eric's test score was miserably low.
Typical Saturday in September for the Knight family?! I think not.
Our bedtime prayers that night were filled with thanksgiving... and some repentance on my part for my lack of faith and my wallowing in panic. All signs that God is not finished shaping me.
In the midst of a glorious autumn day while potting my new mums, my husband calls me (early) from his test taking experience of the GMAT. I see his number and name on my phone and wonder why he is calling three hours too soon. The test cannot be finished by now.
Answering the phone, I hear him say, "Oh, hey babe... ah, my test isn't done. It is frozen because we're all out here in the parking lot."
"What?! Why?", I feebly ask.
"Oh, the SWAT team arrived and have the place surrounded because some armed crazy man has been cornered in the building and they want us out here."
My breathing stops, as my mind whirls from praying about Eric's concentration on this vital test to determine his path into graduate school to his physical safety. Lord, just bring him home alive, I pray.
Eric says, "Oh, gotta go, the team is going in." ACK! is all I think as we hang up muttering quick "I love you's".
I attempt to go about my long list of home chores which includes washing the beast of a dog (because he is itching and scratching like crazy and he stinks. He smells foul.) With my arms loaded with old towels and doggie shampoo I make my way into the backyard where the dog should be. Emphasis on the should.
Somebody left the gate open. And it wasn't me and it wasn't Eric. And now my dog (without his collar and ID tag because he was about to get a bath) is rooming the streets! Having not yet shifted out of my panic for my husband's safety, I am now in deep throttle mode of all out freak out.
I do not handle freak out well. I tend to cuss like a sailor or at least his/her preacher/chaplain. Sad to admit to my reading audience of two or three, but my poise isn't pretty at this moment. The balance has been tipped and I have reached my maximum load. My husband is with SWAT team and armed crazy man. our dog is loose on the street possibly hit by a car, lost, or picked up by someone who thinks he would be a great pet. I am in full and utter freak out mode.
I run around the house hollering for the dog and down the street calling for him.
My daughter runs out of the house barefoot with a box of doggie treats with the idea to 'leave a trail for him to follow'. Then, it dawns on her why her parents make a point of emphasizing that she needs to do what we as her to do. Like closing the gate to the backyard. As that thought illuminates in her mind, tears form and she is a repentant mess.
We climb in the car... prepared to search the neighborhood. And then fan out block by block. No sight of him. In between my cussing and panic moments, I do utter a few prayers, "Jesus, help me find my dog." My kiddo says, "Momma, we gotta think positive." And she prays while her mother cusses from the front seat.
When we swing back into the neighborhood, we stop a guest at our neighbor's house and inquire about the dog. Our neighbor has found Duke and returned him to our backyard. Hallelujah!
The dog gets washed. My cussing stops. The kid repents of her error. All is forgiven.
And we wait on my husband to return home two hours after his test should have finished. We have no idea if the armed crazy man was caught and arrested, but we do know that Eric's test score was miserably low.
Typical Saturday in September for the Knight family?! I think not.
Our bedtime prayers that night were filled with thanksgiving... and some repentance on my part for my lack of faith and my wallowing in panic. All signs that God is not finished shaping me.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Pickles, Our New Pet
Behold, the perfect pet has arrived....the small creature only eats, grows and poops. And sometime soon it will entertain us with it's metamorphosis life cycle. After completely changing out of it's current form, our Pickles will fly away from us... never to be seen again. A perfect pet! No vet bills.
No shedding of fur, no eating of green tomatoes or Barbie shoes. No scratching. No seizures at 2am. No rock swallowing and then vomiting of said rocks at 4am. No sniffing of your bottom while doing weird yoga positions. No drooling by the grill.
Just the quiet eating of leaves and crawling around in pickle jars... here she/he is, our new pet, Pickles the Brown Caterpillar who one day soon will become a Brown Moth.
No shedding of fur, no eating of green tomatoes or Barbie shoes. No scratching. No seizures at 2am. No rock swallowing and then vomiting of said rocks at 4am. No sniffing of your bottom while doing weird yoga positions. No drooling by the grill.
Just the quiet eating of leaves and crawling around in pickle jars... here she/he is, our new pet, Pickles the Brown Caterpillar who one day soon will become a Brown Moth.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Leadership We All Crave
Every where I look around church or our community, or read on internet news websites, or witness in my own home... reveals the great need in our world for solid, visionary, and trustworthy leadership. The need for leadership is everywhere.
During my reading this Labor Day weekend, I read this, " organizations decry the absence of quality leaders who can infuse energy and provide creative direction in a highly competitive environment, and efforts to address the need are mushrooming across the institutional landscape." Schools need leaders. Teams need leaders. Businesses need leaders. Families need leaders. The Church needs leaders!
Even my mutant of a dog needs leadership... someone needs to tell him NOT to eat green tomatoes, to stop itching, and to refrain from laying on my daughter's purple bean bag where clumps of his fur remain for days.
Our Bishop it seems is fully aware of the need for quality leaders in church and is attempting to grow great leaders in his new Bishop's Leadership Academy for Clergy Excellence. You are looking at a newly nominated guinea pig for this experimental group. We'll see what the next nine months of mutual mentoring, retreats, preaching workshops, conversations, and small groups will bring in regards to developing leadership skills among the United Methodist clergy of Indiana. As I live and breath, I am sure I'll write about it... and you'll be in on the scoop.
I was reminded this weekend while reading Grace to Lead: Practicing Leadership in the Wesleyan Tradition by Kenneth Carder and Laceye Warner (which is where the above quote came from) that visionary, God-graced leaders are those folks who allow the call of their baptism to continually renew and reshape them. Being folks who embrace Wesleyan theology it boils down to the sanctification work of the Holy Spirit to continually shape and develop a person into leaders God has intended him/her to be. We are formed into leaders in other words, not just by our right Orthodox beliefs and theology, but also by the formative process of living out our faith through the various spiritual disciplines.
Hmmm... solid theology AND vibrant practical living. Yes, when I think of great leaders that I know and want to be like "when I grow up", they too live out this Wesleyan way of leading. The leadership we all crave is leadership that is lived out of a relationship with our Living God in Christ Jesus through the Holy Spirit.
Even my dog can appreciate that! Well, maybe.
During my reading this Labor Day weekend, I read this, " organizations decry the absence of quality leaders who can infuse energy and provide creative direction in a highly competitive environment, and efforts to address the need are mushrooming across the institutional landscape." Schools need leaders. Teams need leaders. Businesses need leaders. Families need leaders. The Church needs leaders!
Even my mutant of a dog needs leadership... someone needs to tell him NOT to eat green tomatoes, to stop itching, and to refrain from laying on my daughter's purple bean bag where clumps of his fur remain for days.
Our Bishop it seems is fully aware of the need for quality leaders in church and is attempting to grow great leaders in his new Bishop's Leadership Academy for Clergy Excellence. You are looking at a newly nominated guinea pig for this experimental group. We'll see what the next nine months of mutual mentoring, retreats, preaching workshops, conversations, and small groups will bring in regards to developing leadership skills among the United Methodist clergy of Indiana. As I live and breath, I am sure I'll write about it... and you'll be in on the scoop.
I was reminded this weekend while reading Grace to Lead: Practicing Leadership in the Wesleyan Tradition by Kenneth Carder and Laceye Warner (which is where the above quote came from) that visionary, God-graced leaders are those folks who allow the call of their baptism to continually renew and reshape them. Being folks who embrace Wesleyan theology it boils down to the sanctification work of the Holy Spirit to continually shape and develop a person into leaders God has intended him/her to be. We are formed into leaders in other words, not just by our right Orthodox beliefs and theology, but also by the formative process of living out our faith through the various spiritual disciplines.
Hmmm... solid theology AND vibrant practical living. Yes, when I think of great leaders that I know and want to be like "when I grow up", they too live out this Wesleyan way of leading. The leadership we all crave is leadership that is lived out of a relationship with our Living God in Christ Jesus through the Holy Spirit.
Even my dog can appreciate that! Well, maybe.
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