I went visiting over at Midtown Assistance Center last week and Executive Director Dorothy Chandler, Olympic Gold Medal Winner of the Compassion Marathon (23 years at MAC!), mentioned a volunteer who brings in REALLY GOOD snack bags. He named the snack bags for his Aunt B! I don’t know the back story on that but may Aunt B be our muse. She passed along compassion somehow! And as George Eliot wrote, “What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for one another?”
Nadia says “I volunteer with another member, Lisby Ritchie, when I can. I worked in wealth management in the past so it seemed almost like penance to give my time to poverty alleviation. It really is an incredible place and I truly enjoy the time I spend there, I have met so many people from so many walks of life that were able to use a little boost to get them back on their feet. I have been blessed in so many ways and and feel compelled to do something to give back and help make someone’s world a better place, this is my something:-)”
Nadia adds, “someone asked me just this week if I can give an example of what agape love looks like and I thought of Dorothy Chandler and the way she interacts and engages with some of the scruffiest looking clients you could imagine. She does so in a way that they feel dignified enough to keep returning even if their visit is limited just to a snack pack and a conversation with her at the door:”
Dorothy says that when she gets up and is getting ready, “I think about the people who come to MAC and tears come to my eyes. Not tears of sadness but tears of joy because we are doing something that matters. MAC helps.”
How do people become compassionate? Is compassion in your DNA?
Here’s another Compassion in the DNA story from Wendy Silliman.
Wendy writes, “one of my favorite MAC stories is that Dorothy Chandler is the one who came up with the initial idea for Threads! Back in 2003, an Ad Hoc Missions Committee led by Bob Miller was exploring new missions. Our first step was to investigate existing needs around the area. I called Dorothy to get her take on current community needs. She said that although MAC had a men’s clothing closet, no one had the space to house children’s clothing. As I then called other ministries, they agreed that a children’s clothing closet would be very helpful for the area. At the same time, the results of a parish forum and survey showed that All Saints wanted to do a new mission focusing on children and at or close to our block. Thus need met desire and of course, we had to put the All Saints twist on it and make it an upscale clothing boutique where we could clothe children in need with dignity.”
I think you can also catch compassion like a good cold. I know I have caught compassion down through the years from All the Saints.
I believe that compassion is in our DNA as children of God. And yes, compassion can be taught and caught. And as Jesus laid it on us in the beatitudes, compassion is often the hard and holy lesson of one’s own personal loss.
Here is blessed Naomi Shihab Nye on Kindness, aka Compassion.
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
One day complete justice and total mercy will kiss us into eternity. In the meantime, let us be a little strong and also be a little kind. That’s a good day’s work any day, every day.
Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. T’is the secret of life everlasting.
Above is a fabulous picture of Lynne Bryant (crowned) and her beloved sister, Melanie in about 1963. Lynne says, “This is for a Baptist girls club which helps young ladies to grow in the Kingdom of God. Melanie received her “Maiden” award that year and I received the ‘Queen’ award. See her shining eyes and mine closed!”
I’ve known Henry and Lynne Bryant through all the years I have been at All Saints’—not well but I knew that they quietly did good at the church and in this world and raised their kids to be strong and good people. Lynne told me this summer that her sister had become very sick very fast. Here is the story from Lynne with some gifts of courage and grace for you, I promise.
“My sister, Melanie, was diagnosed with glioblastoma—an aggressive,invasive form of brain cancer in July. In September we began daily trips to Georgia Radiation in Augusta, GA, so that she could receive 30 radiation treatments.
The first day there Melanie was able to hobble in using a walker. To our surprise the door popped open and a man welcomed us to the center. He seemed to be there every day. We thought that perhaps he worked there. About three weeks into the treatments, he came over as we sat in the clinic and introduced himself as “Allen.” We never found out whether he was Mr. Allen or Allen something else.
It seems that Allen had been an instructor for the US Army and had taught boxing to all the recruits. He said to Melanie, ‘Missus, I always tell the men to keep the gloves on and keep fighting ‘cause if you take the gloves off and stop fighting, it means the fight is over. So Missus, keep your gloves on!’
Allen was there the day she finished radiation and posed for pictures at the ringing of the bell ceremony traditional for radiation patients.
It turned out that he had fought cancer the year before and volunteered at the center as many days as he possibly could. Allen was unaware that he was actually one of God’s angels sent to give people hope.
Another one of the regulars—Jim- introduced himself while Melanie was in the treatment room. He told me the story of how his cancer had come back twice and this was his last chance with a second round of radiation. I told him that I was so sorry. “Oh, no!” he said. ‘God’s got my back. If he doesn’t heal me here, he will heal me up there (pointing to Heaven)!’ He walked down the hall repeating ‘God’s got my back!’ Jim was another angel for me.”
(Did you know that ‘angelos’ means messenger? An angel in our tradition is a messenger from God telling us God is with us and those we love and that God answers prayers. Sometimes the answer is just what we want, when we want. And sometimes the answer is not what we want but something deep inside us shifts, so that the situation does not change in the way we want it to, but we change. We change. And we trust. And that makes all the difference.)
“Melanie died in December, 2016. God’s got her back.”
Lynne says “God’s got her back.”
Even in the aftermath of great loss, Lynne said to me and writes to you that God has got her sister’s back. Sometimes it causes me to tremble—the troubles people go through, the kindness among strangers, the pain of loss, the power of hope, the trust that God has our backs. This matters so. Thank you Lynne and thank you saints.
This blog post will be totally boring if you are not on Facebook or other social media, but around this block, a lot of us are Facebookers. And I think some of us are struggling to define how to use it without getting used up. I for one hate conflict. Hate it. However:
What do I like on Facebook? I like posts of good writers I don’t know about. I like reading about Mississippi. I like it when I see somebody’s trip to a place I will never go or their new baby or grand-baby. I like keeping up with faraway friends and parishioners. I like hilarious cat videos. I like cartoons! The Facebookers I follow come from their own life experience and also run their Facebook page according to their own core values. I like complex and tender posts, for our lives are complex and tender. With permission from the authors, here are some starting with a simple and tender example which happened just two days ago:
On Wednesday, Dottie Miller wrote that she and Jamie lost their beloved Bitsy and that their pain was very deep. Friends called and wrote and facebooked and comforted. They didn’t have to tell people one by one
Also Facebook can help with gathering all points of view, with agreeable disagreement. Sam Buice is the priest in charge up at Grace-Calvary, Barbara Brown Taylor’s old stomping grounds and he is one of my favorite priests and an effective Facebook gospeler, Here he is pictured with some of his favorites – BBT, baptism, and his Harley!
Last month, I noticed Sam asking this question to his Facebook friends and he has a bunch: “Why currently are you upset? If you choose to respond to this post, I ask that you respond by talking about yourself. Say more about what is upsetting to you. Refrain from making assumptions or statements about the “others.” If you are posting to my page, I will feel free to delete comments that I deem accusing or hateful or not on point.”
Sam started by describing in civil terms the national issue (sudden refugee ban) he is upset about and others described what they PERSONALLY were upset about from all different angles. He curated his post so that it did not become vicious or goofy, but it was quite diverse and enlightening. Never assume you know why others act, vote, speak the way they do. And don’t assume that social media always separates us; sometimes we understand one another through social media, maybe for the first time.
My own Facebook page is not an opinion forum, nor, please note, is it the parish page. It is as I say below one of the public rooms of my heart.
What I want to read and share is authentic life and thought and story, not riled up stuff. Jerry Byrd gave me permission to share this very moving post about his twin brother who died three years ago. Yes, Jerry is advocating for a particular issue, and he is doing it from the depths of his life.
Here is Jerry’s post from last week:
“This is what death with dignity looks like. It came courtesy of the Affordable Care Act. Obamacare is another name given it. The picture is my twin brother Jim in Hospice Atlanta. I took it on Jan. 30th, our birthday. That’s why there are flowers. My sister who lives in another city had sent them. I wanted her to see how pretty they were. Just 24 hours after I took this photo Jim would be dead. Today is the 3rd anniversary of his death.
Do not think that I post this for sympathy. Do not think I’d ever make the decision to post something this intimate lightly. Do not think I post this out of mourning. I do on a continual basis mourn my twin though. Why do I post this then? Because Jim would want that. I know this because no one knows a twin like his twin. Jim would want me to use this image to make the statement that society without health coverage for all is no society at all.
He died after fighting the spread of cancer for close to 3 years. At his diagnosis he didn’t have health insurance. It goes without saying that this pre-existing condition would have blocked him from having any health insurance. Try to imagine the trips to the emergency room without it when I’d have to take him there in the middle of the night due to the pain and infection and fever that his illness brought him. Try to imagine his rounds of chemotherapy without it. Try to imagine his many visits to the oncologist without it. Try to imagine hope without it. Try to imagine someone you love and consider irreplaceable finding themselves in a health crisis and unable to get health insurance. It could happen to anyone anytime.
Why do I post this then? I want you who might have similar stories to post those stories. I want you to give a face to the idea of healthcare as a fundamental human right. Our elected officials are debating whether some get health care and whether some do not. I post this to ask that you contact your elected officials and let them know that healthcare can’t be a luxury for just a few, not in a civil society.“
Thank you Jerry.
Now Here are some important and timely words, versions of which I have seen from a number of people lately: “I posted a picture earlier today which I am not sure was a true representation of reality. I have removed it from my page and apologize to anybody who saw it.”
YES!! YAY!! People of all political persuasians are spotting FAKE NEWS (shows up from everywhere, sometimes called “click bait”) and taking it down. People are curating their pages to reflect their lives! You don’t have to leave stuff on there you don’t want!
Finally Brian Barefield’s post from New Years Eve is literally lifegiving since he had very recently almost died of a massive heart attack. He moves me to my toes and gives us our marching orders. Here’s Brian:
Bear with me here as this is stream of consciousness and it’s long for me, but it’s New Year’s Eve… the conclusion to a very traumatic year for many, myself included.
This past week, I was able to take part in something that was new to me. While I work with trauma in aviation as a peer counselor, being on the opposite side of the proverbial table was a new experience. A dear friend who is a trauma specialist guided me through a unique trauma therapy session to help with mentally and emotionally processing all I went through during my heart attack. What I discovered was that the most traumatic experience of the entire ordeal was the sense of loneliness I experienced. By loneliness I mean deep existential loneliness full of dread. Not only was I facing the possible end of my career, I was, for all intents and purposes, staring death in the face. When I looked back on those 14 or so hours before they finally figured out what was going on my faith didn’t seem to inform that bleakness. All I felt was a terrible, hopeless solitude. Where was meaning in the experience?
What I have realized is that meaning was found in those who rushed to my side the moment they found out there was a problem. Meaning was found in those who cared, those who sacrificed their time and convenience to stop and just be there with me. People like Bob Tick, Ed O’Halloran, Pat Brown Bruce Garner, my father who dropped everything and drove 3 hours to be by my side that night, and my mother, who did the same early the next morning.
That terrible night when I would be awoken multiple times from my drug induced haze (administered by the hospital) by my heart turning somersaults in my chest in that dark ICU room, I would literally reach out looking for someone, anyone, for support, and there was always a hand of someone who cared that grabbed mine.
In the emptiness of that solitude of experience, even there I was never really alone. My personal faith didn’t prove just a mirage. You see, my faith stresses the importance of community, of togetherness. It says we care for each other, that the American ideal of individualism is largely hokum. We share, we communicate, we give ourselves to each other; we offer ourselves fully. Meaning, God, whatever you want to call it was there that night for me in those who cared for me and sat that awful watch by my side. As alone as I felt, the miracle of connection, of community, got me through (with the help of many doctors and nurses).
With all of that said, and being that it is the conclusion of an incredibly divisive year in the aggregate, I guess I’m saying I found meaning in that senseless experience in my community of friends and family. We are all we really have in this crazy world with all its ups and downs. My hope is that you remember those around you who care for you, who believe in you, who love you. Grab hold of them and dear God don’t let them go. No matter what the coming year holds, the one thing certain is that we have each other, and the bond that living and loving for each other creates between us is stronger than the darkest night; it’s the only real strength we have. Love those who love you; love and laugh and cry with them. Believe in them and hope with them. Hold them close and know that everything, no matter how dark, will get better, and the good things will only get brighter, stronger, more resilient.
Happy New Year friends!”
Thank you Brian, and thank you all around this block for being there for each other. Whether you Facebook or not (and if you do and it is eating up too much of your time, you might consider doing a Facebook fast for lent – I might!) Just know how beloved you are in the “vast reaches and endless memory” of eternity.
Flash thinks Ethel Ware Carter is beautiful because she is—inside and out!
This week Flash and I went down the elevator from our abode on the 28th floor. You’d be amazed at the number of dogs in our building—Flash has a Napoleonic complex and is very rude to three of the big dogs but is quite the ladies’ man with a circle of small four-pawed ladies in the building. Everybody has a circle, probably many circles. Circles matter.
Actually Ethel Ware and the Council is in offices with another dear friend of All Saints, Peter Wallace and the crowd at Day1.
Ethel Ware told Flash and me that the Regional Council of Atlanta Churches started in 1878 as a mainline Protestant all male (of course) pastors’ group. And from the very beginning, they were passionate about meeting human need and advocacy. For instance these guys went to bat for NO CHILD LABOR LAWS and UNIVERSAL PUBLIC EDUCATION! Those realities didn’t just hop out of the air into our city! A circle of people had dreams for the common good and made them happen!!
And when it came time (way past time), to integrate Atlanta, the Regional Council of Atlanta Churches put together a manifesto!! Our rector, Frank Ross, signed it and marched and marched and wrote and preached about respecting the dignity of every human being! (We still have original copies of his sermons and almost every sermon of every preacher thereafter. Really interesting! We ought to do a little study.)
In 2017, it is worth reading the points of the Manifesto of 1957 and what that circle of faithful people thought was most important—to me, still most important.
FREEDOM of speech must at all costs be preserved. “Truth is mighty and will prevail.” No minister, editor, teacher, state employee, business man or other citizen should be penalized for expressing himself freely, so long as he does so with regard to the rights of others. Any position which can not stand upon its own merits and which can only be maintained by silencing all who hold contrary convictions, is a position which can not permanently endure.
AS AMERICANS and as Christians we have an obligation to obey the law.
THE PUBLIC school system must not be destroyed. It is an institution essential to the preservation and development of our democracy. To sacrifice that system in order to avoid obedience to the decree of the Supreme Court would be to inflict tremendous loss upon multitudes of children, whose whole lives would be impoverished as a result of such action. It would also mean the economic, intellectual and cultural impoverishment of our section, and would be a blow to the welfare of our nation as a whole.
HATRED and scorn for those of another race, or for those who hold a position different from our own, can never be justified.
COMMUNICATION between responsible leaders (“of the races” but you could substitute of the different political parties or the nations of the world) must be maintained. One of the tragedies of our present situation is found in the fact that there is so little real discussion of the issues except within the separate … groups.
OUR DIFFICULTIES cannot be solved in our own strength or in human wisdom. It is appropriate, therefore, that we approach our task in a spirit of humility, of penitence, and of prayer. It is necessary that we pray earnestly and consistently that God will give us wisdom to understand His will: that He will grant us the courage and faith to follow the guidance of His spirit.
All Saints’ Vestry and many other faithful groups now meet in the Ross Room.
Below is Frank Ross preaching – he supported and encouraged many – including Atlanta Constitution Editor, Ralph McGill, and Judge Elbert Tuttle to courageous conscience and action, and yes a few to shaking the dust off their feet and leaving the parish. (On my husband’s Episcopal side of the family, most Sternes stayed and the branch who left were more disturbed by the rector’s divorce.) Frank Ross was not perfect; he was a saint, like the rest of us.
Frank Ross always started his letters to the parish with the words, “Dearly Beloved,” and when I became the rector of St. Andrew’s, Maryville, I copy-catted him. Because dearly beloved, that is who we are to one another. In Christ, we are all over this world, dearly beloved. That’s what every true prophet is teaching, writing, preaching, spreading around-the universal love of God for God’s world.
And here, on the very day Flash and I visited, is Bishop Rob Wright, yes a prophet for our day, recording right down the hall in the Day1 studios!
After all, our diocesan motto is:
For we are circles within circles upon circles of the One who stretched out his arms on the hard wood of the cross, encircling God’s whole, holy and broken world.
“It’s unusual enough for a ministry to be befriended by parents and their grown children, but when a grandchild of the family starts helping too, well that’s a story to be told.
Penny and Mike Pope got involved in Refugee Ministries two decades ago when Barbara Thompson learned about child survivors of war and became involved with families from Bosnia. Barbara put out the call to All Saints’ families to help, and boy, did they. In 1997 Penny and Mike invited Aida Karamesic, a high school senior who came here as a refugee from Bosnia, to live with them.
Aida needed help learning English, and the Pope family supported her educational goals in every way. At family gatherings, Aida practiced her English with all three generations of the Popes, including the grandparents, Wilma and Frederick, who was an Episcopal priest and Spencer, who was also a high school senior like Aida.
It was just a short time later that Frederick Pope bought his prize automobile, a white 1998 Mercury Sable, nicknamed “Puffy Cloud”. He bought it for its speed and beauty, and his younger grandson, Spencer said, “He never let me drive it, but Grandma did, and man, she drove it FAST!
A few years later in 2001, another refugee family arrived, this time from Syria, and they were befriended by the Daugherty family as well as by other members of All Saints’. They also had a teenager in the family whose name was Heval Kelli. The Daughertys hosted a welcome party for the Kellis and the Muhumuza family in their home.
After that party, Martha Daugherty drove Heval to Georgia State and changed the course of his life.
Where are Aida and Heval now?
Aida is is a graduate of Ga Tech with a degree in Aeronautical Engineering, and owns her own business, Income Tax Atlanta. Aida’s business helps her fellow Bosnian Americans to achieve financial success through helping them with their taxes.
Heval is now an Emory Cardiology Fellow, and spends a lot of time giving back to his community. Don’t miss his talk on THIS SUNDAY Jan 22nd at 10:20 in Ellis Hall about his experience being welcomed by All Saints’ and how this helped him to become a doctor.
Heval volunteers on the weekends at a free clinic in Clarkston for people without Medicaid.
As a part of Heval’s community support, he asked All Saints’ Refugee Ministries to help a newly arrived Syrian family with transportation to medical appointments for their 14 year old son who has cerebral palsy.
We agreed and provided transportation for several months. Around the time when it became clear that the family would benefit from a vehicle, who should show up with one, but Spencer Pope, son of Penny and grandson of Wilma and Frederick?
And what is that vehicle? It’s Puffy Cloud! Still going strong after 20 years of loving labor and grandma’s heavy footedness on the accelerator!
Well, the dad of the Youssef family, Taha, just couldn’t express his gratitude enough for the opportunity to take his children to medical appointments, visit their schools, and take his wife and himself to English classes which they attend every day (not to mention how important it is to have a car for grocery store trips and everything else).
There’s so much to have a good, happy cry over in this story. You can really just take your pick. The way two (and many more) All Saints’ families have been giving love to our new American friends for two decades and have taught their children and their grandchildren to do the same. The fact that two (and more) teens who came here as refugees are now living the American dream thanks to our help. Or the fact that those same teens spend copious amounts of time giving back to their own communities in ways that will undoubtedly continue to help for generations to come.”
(THANK YOU Louisa Merchant for offering this heartwarming, soul-filling story and THANK YOU all the Saints through the years who have SO THOROUGHLY AND WILLINGLY AND DEEPLY welcomed refugees.)
Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13.1
One of our darling littlest cherubs came up to me after the Nine O’clock service on Sunday and whispered, “Why’d you cry in church?” She had on a fabulous purple dress, much more fabulous than this one but you get the idea:
I said something like, “Because (as happens at All Saints’ every year on this MLK Sunday) the ladies of the Singing Sisters of Ebenezer sang songs I love and it made me cry.” And it is true, I love spirituals, and this past Sunday I loved the old songs and the power and beauty and dignity in the faces of the singers. Here are the Sisters leading the congregation in” Blessed Assurance”
At my ordination almost 28 years ago, the very same Laura English Robinson who directs the Singing Sisters sang “This Little Light of Mine”. , and here she was—same holy space, beloved people, same hopeful song—all these years later!
I was overwhelmed by the pain and joy of history—my own history, All Saints’ history, Ebenezer’s history, Martin Luther King’s history, our country’s history—and tears started sliding down my face and never stopped. I re-membered (put back together) a lot, which is what Jesus asks us to do in every eucharist—”Do this in re-membrance of me.” Re-membering is huge. And sometimes grievous.
People who are grieving have sometimes told me “O I can’t come back to church yet because I am afraid I’ll cry like a baby.” May I gently question this reasoning? Is crying in church a bad thing? What are you supposed to do in church? Put on a happy face? I don’t think so. Now I must admit, weeping in church when you are trying to offer communion is a little over the top! And also very human and around this block we are very human—all sorts and conditions! This fully human-ness is the gift in Jesus Christ we have to give one another and to the world.
Everybody has to find their way to have more abundant life. About two months ago, my husband talked me into trying TWITTER. Not to tweet! But to get a sense of how news and experiences and emotions of all kinds move around this world in 140 character waves which can gather and become combative or healing (sometimes both) forces of nature in and of themselves. I tried if for a little while and realized, nope, this tweeting thing doesn’t work for me. I jump to conclusions or I dismiss something someone says just because that person tweets it or I get mad or sad (more often than glad) in ways that are not lifegiving. Basically tweeting is too often a snarky medium. Instead give me just plain old conversation. Give me that little girl coming up to me and saying “Why’d you cry?” Our questions, our very differences, when gently offered help us connect. It’s true! So no more twitter for me.
Back to crying in church … yes I cry in church. Not all the time though, come to think of it, I cried solid in church for about six weeks after my father died in the fall of 1996.
As I grieved for my father so many years ago, my fellow priests took on all the public roles in the liturgies and I hid in the choir loft amongst all those red-robed cherubim who just kept on singing gorgeous music. I cried for my beloved father who had in fact peacefully lived out the length of his days and surely I also cried for the accumulated trauma of all the deaths I had known and of course I cried (though I didn’t sense it) for my own death to come. For every mourning is also a mourning for oneself. I cried week after week. And then eventually, cried out, I healed and in time stood and took up my life and my work again.
Cry in church any old time you need to. Or even better laugh! Around this block just let us be ourselves before God and love ourselves and our neighbors in our full humanity and see what blessings come.
I saw the Milky Way last week while Carroll and I were resting on a dark island. Sometimes dark places are the very best places to see the light, and what a miracle is the Milky Way, this great swirling river of stars in all stages of birth and life and death and rebirth. Sort of like us.
Did you know that we on “this fragile earth our island home”are part of the Milky Way? So even though the Epiphany symbol is a single giant dazzling star lighting the way for the wise seekers to the stable, I believe a whole Milky Way of stars await the seekers around this block.Just open your eyes and ears and heart and You Will See God. That’s the Epiphany Challenge and Promise: God will be manifest for you, in you, through you. Yes!
I offer an Epiphany/ Milky Way story I watched unfold from right before Christmas until, well right now!
One day I got a call from our old friend Doug Hales who was the Business Manager at All Saints’ WAY, WAY back in the day in the eighties and nineties. He went on to get his PhD and teaches Supply Chain Management at the University of Rhode Island, and he travels ALL over the world to teach folks in other countries. Here’s Doug in Taiwan, one of the places he’s texted me from in the last three weeks
Doug got in touch because he had heard that Marian Murphy, the Head Sexton of All Saints so many, many years ago, had had a massive heart attack. He reached across the world and connected us to a person in trouble right down the street from the church at Emory Midtown.
I saw Marian—not conscious. Doug and I texted back and forth. We checked on her again, barely conscious. I forgot Marian in the craziness of Christmas services. But across the world Doug did not. He kept up with her and her family and was as constant as the stars because he knew she needed a friend.
When I did remember Marian, I could not find her. I thought Uh-Oh, I really thought she had died as she was so long in the ICU. I texted Doug, this time in Taiwan. He WAS RELENTLESS with the hospital tracking system and found her after three tries (!!!!) moved into a step-down cardiac room. We had tried but given up; Doug never did. Friendship matters so much! A friend in need is a friend in deed, and that is totally scriptural (See the Good Samaritan!)
The morning Doug found her, Rich Winters, one of our affiliated priests took the eight o’clock for me. Rich and the other priests who call All Saints’ home are the best. I cannot imagine making it through this interim time without them.
So at the New Years’ morning 8:00, Rich took the flock of 99 (actually, I think 18 !) and I walked over to the hospital in the cold and rain to find the lost sheep. And here she is!
Back in the day, Marian taught all of us at All Saints that every job matters, and that keeping All Saints’ spaces beautiful and clean is a holy ministry as much as teaching a class or playing the organ or preaching the sermon. Marian reminds me of Brother Lawrence who taught that “We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.” Marian taught us to do every little thing right, and O boy, she got after us when we were careless and messed up tidy spaces for no good reason!! For such a little lady, Marian has a big roar!!
Here is the newest sexton at All Saints’, Earle. Earle has a legacy of friendship and good work to live into and he has the best smile in the world!
We live in a veritable Milky Way of blessings, of God’s presence manifested in us, among us, through us. When you are feeling like your way is dark and unclear, remember Doug and Marian and all us Saints, and let the light of compassion guide your way to the next friendship encounter. For after all, as Rilke wrote and Jesus taught,