The Farmers' Market

Summer has officially arrived. The local farmers' market is now open. I went yesterday for the first time this year before braving the local grocery store. I bought a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables--sweet Texas onions, yellow squash, beets with the greens still attached, tomatoes, blackberries and peaches. God's bounty is so beautiful and so delicious! Last night I washed and chopped the greens before sauteing them and roasted the beets. Along with pot stickers (I've become a Chinese dumpling addict!), they made a great supper. Besides the wonderful, healthy eating, I find it a blessing to visit with the farmers who bring the fruits of their hard work to share. Time seems to slow down in their presence. Perhaps that's because they are used to waiting patiently for the plants to mature. Some things cannot be forced or sped up, but must wait for God's time to reach their fullness. I'm going to try to remember that in the coming days as I go about my writing work.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Poetry Patrol

I latched onto Ted Kooser's phrase, "poetry patrol," in his book The Poetry Home Repair Manual. I realized that I had been on poetry patrol on our recent trip to Philadelphia. While my husband attended a conference, I walked around the city seeing the sights, some I searched out, like Galileo's telescope, and some found me, like the protest against Lockheed Martin's corporate contribution to war efforts. I came home with notes and ideas for several poems, which I now need to sit down and write.

I still have trouble making myself sit down to do the actual writing, though it's slowly becoming more of a habit. Why God has called me to the work of writing is still a mystery, but I'm trying to put one foot in front of another on this path upon which God seems to be directing me at present. I try to focus on the immediate rather than think too much about long term. After all, I have no idea how much long term I have. None of us know that for sure. My immediate problem is to find a way to describe the march of a half dozen individuals who chose to devote their time to protesting war and its profits, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were a dozen at most heading to a confrontation with a politically well-connected mega-corporation. But then I learned as a child in Sunday school that when God is with us, our own size and strength are irrelevant. All that matters is our faithfulness.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Thin Places

I have enjoyed my writing class at the local community center taught by a retired English professor with a gentle spirit and a gift for teaching. Each week he challenges us with assignments. This week one of those was to write about thin places--a Celtic concept that refers to those places where the veil between heaven and earth is thin, bringing us closer to God. I think of these as places the Holy Spirit haunts, reliably if not regularly. My favorite such place is the Presbyterian conference ground at Mo-Ranch outside Hunt, Texas. I never fail to encounter God each time I visit there.

This week, however, as I was thinking about the assignment, I discovered an unexpected thin place close to home. Last Friday our middle son, Greg, his wife and their two kids, came to visit. They took me for a picnic at Salado Creek for Mother's Day. The cool, clear creek meanders over pebbles and between tall oak and elm trees in the small tourist town of Salado, Texas. The creek has drawn visitors since Native Americans first frequented the spot. Our three sons loved to visit the creek when they were young, wading and catching all sorts of creatures they carted home. On Friday as I sat beside the creek and watched my son splash in the creek and look for tadpoles and minnows with his son, eternity stretched out before me and for a moment time stood still. I sensed God smiling upon us in that beautiful place. Perhaps one day Greg's son will take his son there as well, as life continues to spool from one generation to the next in God's endless blessing.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Pandemic Fear

We were returning from a trip to Philadelphia when we saw the first alarming news of the spread of swine flu on CNN in the airport waiting room at Dallas Fort Worth Airport. Since then the news has been grim, but according to the physicians in my life also overblown and exaggerated. Fear is just as contagious as a virus at times. Fear was actually the topic of my last sermon, its difficulties and the way it can freeze us in our tracks. We live in a time of fear---fear of disease and storms and terrorism and economic collapse. The world is a scary place, but it has always been scary to be human. The important question to ask is how do you deal with that fear so that it does not consume your life?

My fear is made manageable by the family and friends who love me and care about what's going on in my life. I heard just this morning from our former Chinese teacher, who has returned to teaching in her university in China. She had seen news of the swine flu in Texas and wrote to ask if we were okay. I wrote back to assure here we are fine at the moment. I'm praying for all of those who have been affected by this disease, including those like my husband, sons and daughter-in-law who are physicians caring for those who are ill.

But mostly the way I deal with fear is by turning to God. The text I preached on the Sunday after Easter was from the Gospel of John and ended with the author's explanation that the gospel was written so that we might believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing we might have life in his name. Not constant fear, which is no way to live, but life abundant and joyful. That's a lesson I have to regularly relearn, and I have my own times of fear and grief and sadness. But I have learned to turn to God for comfort in such dark and fearful times, and I've never been disappointed or left alone when I seek God's presence at such times.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Considering the Lilies

I'm slowly emerging from the fog of grief over my dad's death last fall, and I'm realizing how many things passed me by in that time of grief and family angst. I still find myself reaching for the phone to call him, and then remembering that, as my brother says, "It's LONG distance." Most recently it was because I wanted to share the news that he had another great-grandson. In this ongoing process of grief, I'm slowly finding that color and light and joy are gradually returning to my life, in the midst of days that are still unexpectedly bleak, gray and hard.

I found unexpected help a couple of days ago during my weekly trip to the local grocery store. I trudged in with my basket as usual, and there before me were the Easter lilies, scenting the air around them with their sweet smell. And Easter came upon me in that moment with all its promise, lifting the weight on my heart just a bit for good. As I always do, I brought one home with me to scent the air of our home and to remind me of God's promise of hope.

I just finished reading Rev. Dr. Scott Black Johnston's Easter sermon on Day 1.org. He is a former seminary professor, and an amazing preacher, who is now the Senior Pastor at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City. One phrase in particular stuck with me, "Jesus is loose in the world." Praise God. Easter has come again. He is risen. He is risen indeed. Death doesn't have the last word after all. Jesus is loose in the world.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

The Still Small Voice

I went to a court hearing this past week, something I've not done since I retired from active law practice almost ten years ago. A young man who has been attending our church was arrested and at this hearing plead guilty to burglary, a serious charge. I also know him to have a good heart as I've watched him care for his sisters and brother with wisdom and discipline beyond his years. He's not yet out of high school. I found out about the hearing by accident, and decided it was important to go. I wanted to remind him that he is still a child of God, in spite of the big mistake he made.

Actually, the still, small voice that I've learned to recognize as God speaking to me nagged me mercilessly until I made plans to go. At the hearing they brought the young man in with shackles on his feet and hands, and I was glad our pastor and another friend from church were there along with his mom and one of her friends. His attorney asked the judge to reduce his bond so he could go home while he waits for his sentencing hearing. He's not been in trouble before, so those of us who know him are hoping that he will be able to go to a children's home on probation--a second chance. We're praying for that result at the next hearing.

Who of us has not needed a second chance in our lives? The judge recognized me from my days practicing law, which I hope was a good thing. In any case, he reduced the bond so that the kid was able to go home on a strict curfew the next day. Once again I was grateful that I had listened when God nudged me, and worried about the times when I've not paid close enough attention to recognize God's nudges. Easy to do when life takes over and the daily noise crowds out God's voice, which is indeed still and small. As one of my favorite seminary professors said, "It's not easy to hear God's voice in a place such as this."

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

"Sons are a heritage from the Lord;

Children are a reward from Him." Psalm 127. And I would add that grandchildren are a glimpse of heaven. Sam was born last week, and he and his mama are doing well. The rest of us are catching up on our sleep. I'm so grateful for this little boy, our fifth grandchild. What a blessing to live long enough to meet your children's children. I joke that I'm donating my brain cells to my grandchildren to explain why I don't remember things as quickly as I once did, but the truth is that they have taught me to expand my capacity for love.

When my sons were born, I learned what it was like, as someone wiser than me said, to have my heart walk around outside my body. With our grandchildren, I've learned the reality of sorrow and joy doubled. When something happens with one of these little ones, either good or bad, my heart rejoices, or hurts, for both the child and my child. Some of my friends are now having great-grandchildren, an experience I cannot imagine as our oldest grandchild is seven.

What I know for sure is that I have been richly blessed by the sons who are a heritage from God, and by the reward of knowing both them and their children.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue