Author: Rev Kathy

“I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” I have often said those words to convince myself.

We spend a lifetime learning the lesson taught to us by the writer of the 23rd Psalm. In fact, most people can recite the entire Psalm, and yet the deeper meaning of it eludes us. It is this: terrible things happen in our world. Terrible things happen to us over the course of a lifetime. But the lesson for us is not to fear. I often just rest on these wise and wonderful words written by Frederick Beuchner:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” The psalm does not pretend that evil and death do not exist. Terrible things happen, and they happen to good people as well as to bad people. Even the paths of righteousness lead through the valley of the shadow. Death lies ahead for all of us, saints and sinners alike, and for all the ones we love. The psalmist doesn’t try to explain evil. He doesn’t try to minimize evil. He simply says he will not fear evil. For all the power that evil has, it doesn’t have the power to make him afraid.

– Frederick Buechner from Secrets in the Dark

When I was in the hospital undergoing many tests and procedures, one thing I did was to say to myself over and over again, “I am not afraid.” It helped.

Gratefully, God has made us resilient people who can face off against all manner of evil and not be afraid. Thanks be to God.

Friends! Just the thought of that word brings me joy. I am blessed to have many friends across the miles. And although I cannot visit with most of them face-to-face, I am comforted to know that though we are scattered, they do think of me often.

I couldn’t begin to name them all. . . Suzanne, Jennifer, Mary Helen, Patty, Helen, Suzette, Joyce, Pat, Wendell, Anne Marie, Marvin, Lee Ann, Cecily, Donna, Melody, Ken, Molly, Mitsy, Edith, Trish, Anita . . . And so many others. It would take pages to write what they each mean to me. I simply know that I am very fortunate to have friends that think of me and pray for me.

Having been so sick since February of 2014, I can truthfully say that their prayers have strengthened me and given me the courage to face each day. I am much better today because of their loving thoughts and prayers during the most difficult times.

This quote expresses friendship so beautifully:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, “Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life”

Thank you, dear friends – those I have named and the many that I did not name. You mean the world to me, and I thank God when I think of you.

This is the season of rejoicing! But every day, I hear of someone who feels they have no reason to rejoice. Yesterday was the third Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of joy. But in the world these days, there seems to be a shortage of joy. We are a people divided in many ways. And our divisions rob us of the joy of this holy season.

There is no simple remedy, but prayer is the path to a kinder world, a world in which joy is possible. The beloved hymn, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” expresses such a prayer with these words:

O come, Desire of Nations, bind in one the hearts of humankind,
O bid our sad divisions cease, and be yourself our King of Peace.

And my favorite stanza:

O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night;
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

In this special time of year, may we each find small ways to cheer our spirits,”to disperse the gloomy clouds of night,” to rejoice in this season of joy, peace, hope and love.

Everywhere we look, we see images announcing the coming of Christmas. Colors abound, lights cover fences, trees, houses, windows. A few nights ago, I even saw an old pickup truck covered with lights.

Stars and snowflakes, Santas and reindeer cover the store shelves. The sparkly, tinsel-covered things announce the coming of Christmas. But I wonder, what announces the coming of Christ, the most miraculous coming of all?

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare his ways;

To give to His people the knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins,

Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Dayspring from on high will visit us,

To shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace.”

From Luke 1

May the announcement of Christ’s Advent be a renewed spirit of giving to those in need, melodies of joy to the world, extraordinary acts of kindness one to another, gifts of hope that mark this season, and the opening of our hearts to the way of peace.

These are the images I pray to see during this advent season.

I am living with a serious illness. My Village has walked beside me with caring and love. My Village is scattered across many states, and even overseas. The people in my Village are of every religious persuasion. They are male and female, young and not-so-young, near and far. My Village has prayed for me constantly since 2014, and my Village has given me strength and courage for these days. Communities most often depend on proximity. My Village does not, but from wherever they are, they have constantly communicated their love.

I am convinced beyond any doubt that it takes a village to live a life filled with challenges and obstacles. Since the day I learned of my end stage kidney disease in February of 2014, my Village began to pray for me. I have been reminded many times of this scripture passage:

“For this cause we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;”

Colossians 1:9

Very early in the morning of the day I went to Piedmont Transplant Center to be evaluated for a kidney transplant, I received a text message with the video, “Be Not Afraid” and these words, “Sending love and prayers your way, Kathy. I will be heading to mass shortly and will put your name in our book of prayers in the altar.” Other messages followed throughout the day.

I am grateful to God for my Village. Each of them has meant so much to me through days of sunshine and shadow, a constant presence of care and concern.

Both of my parents were immigrants to this country. Like millions of others who sought a safer life and a brighter future, they came to the magical place they knew as New York Harbor in search of home. For them, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .” was a life reality. Today, voices are calling out a desire to close our borders to immigrants. Exiled people fleeing from their tortured homelands may not find a welcome in America.

That grieves me, especially when I remember that my grandfather had to run for his life when he came to America. It also grieves me as a Christian who believes in opening hearts and hands to those in need.

In some ways, it feels as though the people of God are exiled in our own world in these days of violence, racism, sexism and xenophobia. We have for so long lived out our calling to love our neighbors in a land where Lady Liberty lifted her torch of welcome to all people. Yet in these days, voices are shouting out words of hatred and exclusion. How do we live out our Christian mission in these days?

Sometimes it feels as if we don’t belong anymore because we feel powerless to silence the hatred that prevails. So I am reminded of this Psalm and the feelings of mourning of an excluded people.

Psalm 137 is a poignant song of the exile—sung by one who has recently returned from Babylon but in whose soul there lingers the bitter memory of the years in a foreign land and of the cruel events that have taken over life. Our situation is not the same, of course, but the emotions expressed in the Psalm mirror our own emotions when we remember America as a land of hope and not of hate, when we close our borders to hurting people, when we consider the call to cast out certain people because of their religion.

As Christians, should we not sit down and weep when we remember our country that has always welcomed all who sought refuge and a brighter future? Should we not weep when so many Americans are demanding that we close our welcoming entries?

By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps.
For there our captors demanded of us songs,
And our tormentors mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
How can we sing the Lord’s song
In a foreign land?

– Psalm 137:1-4 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

Today, may we hold in our hearts the people of the world who are truly living in exile. And may we pray that our country will never close its welcoming doors to people in search of home.

I forgot to relax for the last couple of weeks. I lost my reflective side and just went gang-busters into every project. I’m paying for it with deep, down fatigue that I can’t seem to shake. I have been thinking about the scripture passage in Psalm 46, “Be still, and know that I am God.” It led me to the depth of the entire Psalm.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
Though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

This psalm encourages me to hope and trust in God, in God’s power and providence, and in God’s gracious presence with me in the worst of times. It sends me a message that God is a help, that God is always near. The river’s message is about the graces and consolations of the Holy Spirit, which flow through every part of my being, comforting my heart and my spirit. God promises that I shall not be moved. If God is in my heart, by his word dwelling richly within me, I shall be established, I shall be helped. So I will trust and not be afraid.

Being still has been life-giving for me today. No particular agenda on my mind. Nothing that has to be written or preached. I have savored the words of the Psalmist. And from that, I have become stronger.

Sisters, we matter! How many times have you heard someone say, “I need to take back my life.” I have said it myself, many times. Life is not always a fight, although many times it seems to be, especially for women. There is the frequent fight within us to be who we are, to throw off the unrealistic expectations people may have of us, to become the persons we are meant to be.

Our stories are sung by many of our sisters . . . Sara Bareilles who sings, “Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out. Honestly I wanna see you be brave,”

And her refrain from King of Anything, “Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be? Who died and made you king of anything?”

Singer-songwriter Mary Lambert cuts through the clichés and gets to the hard truth of self-acceptance:

They tell us from the time we’re young
To hide the things that we don’t like about ourselves,
Inside ourselves.
I know I’m not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else.
Well I’m over it.

And then there is the song of Rachel Platten, Fight Song, that says,

This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My power’s turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care if nobody else believes
‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me

They sing a story much like our own story, a story of vulnerable, yet strong, women who have never stopped believing in themselves in spite of those who would try to bring us down.

But, you might ask, why do we need a “take back my life song?” We need one because others try to tell us who to be and how to be. We need one because most of us were raised to defer to others always. We need one because we shrink back from giving our own opinion about things. We need one because we are strong women who have been tamed for too long.

We need a “take back my life song” because we must begin to reclaim our own power and use that power to change the world, to live out our calling from God, to accept our role as messengers of hope and laborers for peace, to live out our enormous capacity to love and care for others, and to challenge evil when we see it. Our world needs us now, more than ever,

We have some standing up to do. In the meantime, sisters, we matter! So consider where you are and how you feel about yourself. Consider your place in the world, and if you need to, take back your life. Lots of sisters are rooting for you!

I recently received this very special message from Patty, one of my dear friends.

“You, my precious friend, are in my thoughts and prayers every day. I’m believing in faith that God has His hands on you and on this journey.”

It was the greatest gift she could have given me. Friends are cherished parts of life. Although they may be far away in miles, they live in our hearts and give us strength for another day’s journey.

As you may know, I am on a journey that will hopefully lead to a kidney transplant. It is a long journey, and for me, one that holds a great deal of fear and anxiety. I have been doing well on daily dialysis. The thought of such a major surgery, and the weakness and recuperation that follows, is disconcerting. When Patty sent me that sweet message, she spoke directly to my fear. Her words renewed my strength and shored up my resolve.

“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart”
― Eleanor Roosevelt

Thank you, Patty. I am thankful for footprints in my heart left by true friends like you. In the end, it may just be those footprints left in my heart by so many dear friends that give me the courage to continue this life journey.

And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And the disciples awoke Him and said to Him, “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?”

Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

– Mark 4:37-39 New King James Version (NKJV)

Living life can easily be compared to being in the midst of a storm. The winds blow around us, sometimes strongly enough to to blow us off our feet. Certainly winds can move us to places we never intended to go.

We lean into the gentle breezes, feeling assured that we are safe. But the strong breezes can frighten us, and gale force winds control our journey in disconcerting ways.

At times, I have felt helpless against winds that would carry me where I didn’t want to go. At other times, gale force winds took complete control of my life.

Storms will come upon us from time to time. I am comforted, though, by the words of Elizabeth Edwards:

“She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.”

In just a brief perusal of the news, I came across these headlines.
A man hugged girl, 7, at soccer practice, then killed her.

Oklahoma mother is arrested for starving five-year-old daughter.

Father is arrested for death of Malik Drummond, Searcy two-year-old missing since 2014.

The youngest victim of sex trafficking in the Connecticut Department of Children and Families’ files is 2 years old.

California domestic terrorist was a victim of childhood domestic abuse.

The world is covered with tragedy of every kind, but no acts of violence are as devastating as violence against innocent children. I could find thousands of headlines like these in any given day, and that should leave us bowed in grief and shame. Is it not possible for humanity to care for her children? Can we not find ways to protect children from lethal violence?

The short answer is that we have not done so yet. We have not put a stop to the murder and abuse of children. May God have mercy on us.

I take a slight bit of liberty with the Biblical text, but I will strongly affirm that if anyone harms a child, “it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.”

Let us join our hearts and hands to do whatever we can to create a safe place in the world for all children.

Psalm 122

I rejoiced when I heard them announce,
“The time of warfare is past.
No more will brother hate brother
or violence have its way.
No more will they drown out God’s silence
and shut their hearts to his song.”

Pray for peace in the cities
and harmony among the races.
May peace come to live on our streets
and justice within our walls.
With all my heart I will pray
that peace comes to live among us.
For the sake of all earth’s people,
I will do my utmost for peace.
Source: The Psalms (translated by Stephen Mitchell)

In times like these, the words of this Psalm speak to us directly and personally. In the midst of violence, we hear words of hope. In the midst of racism, we hear words of reconciliation. In the midst of terrorist acts, we hear words of comfort. In the midst of chaos, we hear words calling us to make peace and justice.

With these words from the Psalmist, we become brother and sister, joined inseparably with the mission of seeking a more hospitable world. We long for days of peace. We yearn for love among humanity. We set our hearts on building a world of compassion. We hunger and thirst for righteousness.

Thanks be to God for comforting words that move us to gentler places.

There are Scriptures for which no commentary is needed. The Beatitudes from the book of Matthew need no other words to explain them. The words stand on their own as a perfect blueprint for life.

And seeing the multitudes, Jesus went up on a mountain, and when He was seated His disciples came to Him. Then He opened His mouth and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
For they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
For they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
For they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

A dear friend recently replied to a post I had written with these words: “We feel God carrying us in beautiful ways.” Having been anxious about yesterday’s kidney transplant evaluation, I now can understand those words. It was a long day, a hard day in some ways, but I did feel God carrying me in beautiful ways.

As a result of God’s gentle presence, I feel nothing but hope for a better and healthier future. Of course, I do not know if a donor will be found for me in the time we have to find one. That is an unknown. The pathway ahead, as always, leads to places I cannot yet see. But I do know that God is carrying me, and all will be well.

Our family is hopeful. Our friends are praying. God is in control. What more could I want.

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He invites me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me by still waters. He restores my soul.

Thanks be to God for gifts of grace, for carrying me in beautiful ways.

Today Fred and I are at Piedmont Transplant Center in Atlanta for my transplant evaluation. Fortunately, Fred is allowed to be with me during the day-long evaluation. His calming presence always soothes my fears, so I am grateful to have him here.

It causes me to recall the many months of my illness and hospitalization, and all we went through, just the two of us. So many people are not as blessed as I am with a loyal and loving spouse. His care makes all the difference in the world to me, and I am thankful to know that he’s with me whatever happens in the months to come.

I have so much support from my wonderful family. My cherished friends have been praying for me for months. But most dear of all is Fred and his constant and unwavering support through it all. “In sickness and in health” has never been so true.

For me, Fred has been a perfect gift from God.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

– James 1:17

Today we will be headed to Atlanta for my kidney transplant evaluation on Wednesday. The upcoming event has led me into contemplation, not a bad place to be. I have discovered that, for me, contemplation accompanies important life events. And this one is probably the most significant life event I have faced off with in a long time.

In the midst of what is very real anxiety about it, contemplation has brought me to a place of peace and acceptance. I am glad for that. I love the words of Alan P. Torey about contemplation.

There is a contemplative in all of us, almost strangled but still alive, who craves quiet enjoyment of the Now and longs to touch the seamless garment of silence which makes us whole.

it is true that “the seamless garment of silence” makes me whole. I honestly think that had I not sought a more contemplative lifestyle, I would not have been able to go through this transplant process with serenity, faith and hope.

In the past, I would have described myself as anything but contemplative. I find it fascinating that life takes us where we need to be, in spite of ourselves. These days, my friends and family describe me as “quiet.” I prefer to think of myself as contemplative. The quiet comes with contemplation as a gift I never expected to receive.

When the holiday we know as Thanksgiving is over, it brings many things . . . the refrigerator is finally emptying out and the leftovers are gone, family is scattered once again, a new holiday season begins, and sometimes, we might even forget all about being thankful.

I want to hold on to thanks giving this time. I want to live with thankfulness all year around. I want to learn to be thankful always.

I would like to share a wonderful prayer with you. These beautiful words are a family prayer written by Walter Rauschenbusch as a Thanksgiving prayer. Composed around the turn of the twentieth century, the theologian and Baptist social reformer’s words are as beautiful and poignant today as they were a hundred years ago.

For the wide sky and the blessed sun,
For the salt sea and the running water,
For the everlasting hills
And the never-resting winds,
For trees and the common grass underfoot.
We thank you for our senses
By which we hear the songs of birds,
And see the splendor of the summer fields,
And taste of the autumn fruits,
And rejoice in the feel of the snow,
And smell the breath of the spring.
Grant us a heart wide open to all this beauty;
And save our souls from being so blind
That we pass unseeing
When even the common thornbush
Is aflame with your glory,
O God our creator,
Who lives and reigns for ever and ever.

Donna Alley wrote a song that expresses what I am trying to say. Here are the lyrics of the refrain:

In everything give Him thanks, give Him thanks.
In everything give Him thanks.
In the good times praise His name.
In the bad times do the same.
In everything give the King of Kings all the thanks.

Listen to the entire song by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir at this link:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UN4rwsAQfyU&autoplay=1

During Advent, God’s people look back upon Christ’s coming in celebration, while at the same time look forward in eager anticipation and hope for the coming of Christ’s kingdom when he returns for his people. In this light, the Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” perfectly represents the church’s cry during the Advent season: O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel.

First Sunday of Advent
The Reading: Jeremiah 33:14-16

The days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will fulfill the promise
I made to the house of Israel and Judah.
In those days, in that time,
I will raise up for David a just shoot ;
he shall do what is right and just in the land.
In those days Judah shall be safe
and Jerusalem shall dwell secure;
this is what they shall call her:
“The LORD our justice.”

God of justice,
Come among us anew this Advent season.
Come into our hearts that we might be safe.
Come into our souls that we might dwell secure.
Come into our thoughts that we might seek justice in our world.
Welcome. We wait for you in hope!
O come, O come, Emmanuel.

Amen.

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.” (Mary Oliver)

I have often wondered about how it would feel to be a literal tree-hugger, to throw my arms around a strong tree trunk and say “thank you” for every bit of life you give to the earth. I have often wondered about how it would feel to climb a tall tree, to recline in its branches and to say “thank you” for your shelter and your beauty.

I know I’m weird, but I stand in wonder at the way tree leaves change their colors in the sunlight, glowing amber and orange and red and burgundy against the bright blue of a clear autumn sky. They comfort me. They leave me in awe. They let me experience the wonderment of the showy spectacle. And when the wind blows and I hear the trees rustling in the breeze, when I hear the dry leaves crunch beneath my feet, I am fully smitten.

My only and best response is to thank God for the trees of the earth in all their splendor. And then to “take the world into my arms,” as Mary Oliver says.

Trees are gifts to me from a loving God. “Every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of lights, in whom there is no variableness neither shadow of turning.” (James 1:17)