A Cup of Water

  

Most of the month of March, I was away from home, two weeks in Nicaragua, and then a week in Big Bend here in Texas. In both places beautiful mountains surrounded me. Of all the images that I have tucked away in my memory from my travels, however, the one that has haunted me most was watching a small girl, about the age of my grandkids, stooping at a creek near one of the medical clinics we held in Nicaragua to cup a drink of water in her hands. I wanted to shout, “No!” but I realized I had no right to say anything, when I had no clean water to offer her. The doctors at the clinics regularly saw children sick from water borne diseases.

The first week in Nicaragua, the mission team from our church helped the people of Las Lajas, Nicaragua install a Living Waters for the World water purification system. Now the children at three schools will have access to clean water, thanks be to God! It was a blessing to celebrate with the people of Las Lajas. But there are so many more places that need clean water, all around the world. Living Waters for the World says that a child dies every 20 seconds from lack of clean water.

While we were in Nicaragua, we looked for a new site to install another water purification system next year. We visited two places and talked with community leaders. My heart is with the community of Los Chimbos, where we would install a system in a school. The community is poor, even by Nicaraguan standards, but they have formed a committee of parents who want to provide clean water to their children. Their water comes from a spring that was once unpolluted. But several families built homes near the spring and now the water is making the children of Los Chimbos sick. I tried to imagine what it would be like to give my kids or grandkids water, knowing it would probably make them sick. The sign we posted on the new water system in Las Lajas says, “Jesus Christ is living water for our bodies and our souls.” The same Jesus who said when you give a cup of water to one of these little ones, you will be rewarded. The only reward I want is to know there are no more children dying from lack of clean water.

Grace and Peace,

Donna Bowling

Perfectionism

I have been fighting a pitched battle recently with my drive for perfection. At times such as this, it’s a curse. As a child, I faced constant demands for perfection. Resistance is a challenge--especially since there are times when the quest for perfection is valuable, as in my prior career as a lawyer. My clients deserved better than a half-baked job on their case. I try to remember that I am not now, and never will be, perfect. If that’s good enough for God, I need to let it be good enough for me, and to remember my salvation does not depend on how I perform the tasks before me. Thank God for that!

We are gearing up for our next mission trip to Nicaragua. This year we will help the community of Las Lajas install a Living Waters for the World clean water system. My job is to organize the spiritual and health education for the people who will use the clean water. The spiritual part includes reminding them that God wants the best for them, including clean water. It’s the health education that is causing me sleepless nights. I’m comfortable teaching adults, but Las Lajas has also arranged for us to teach the students at three elementary schools, a total of some 150 kids. I have a curriculum, but I have to modify that to prepare something like a portable Vacation Bible School. We will be making copies and gathering materials, all of which we must carry with us to Nicaragua. Several women from our church who teach kids as a profession have volunteered to meet with us next Saturday. I am so grateful for their time and their expertise.

I keep reminding myself that while I have to do my part in the preparation, God is with me in this latest adventure. I know how important this work is. People’s lives are at stake, including the lives of children like my grandkids. Too many die around the world from lack of clean water. I’m grateful for the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of some of them, and I’m trying to remember that whatever I am able to teach them will be more than they know now. God is once again stretching my horizons, and I’ve been thinking about Mother Teresa, who said, “I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish he did not trust me so much.” Amen, Sister!

Grace and Peace,

Donna

Another Slaughter of the Innocents

My heart has been hurting since I heard the news of the recent slaughter of school children by the Taliban in Pakistan. I cannot wrap my mind around that kind of hate. I can vaguely comprehend a mentally ill person doing such a thing. But to gun down more than a hundred children and their teachers in the name of some twisted, self-created god is beyond me. Echoes of Herod’s slaughter of the children in Bethlehem after the birth of Jesus echo in this Christmas season. And I weep for the parents and grandparents and brothers and sisters and all those who are grieving because of this horrific act.  Even the survivors’ scars will last a lifetime. I close my eyes and see kids the same age as my grandchildren, and I grieve for those who have lost the future promise of those young lives.

I spoke this week for the first time in several years about the Institute for Civility in Government, and its work to encourage civility in the process of government. Two Presbyterian pastor friends founded the Institute. I helped them write the story of the Institute in the book, Reclaiming Civility in the Public Square: Ten Rules that Work. I told those who came to hear my talk that as I was writing the book, I was coincidentally also teaching an adult Sunday school class on religious violence. Because of that juxtaposition, I reached the conclusion that the opposite of civility is not incivility. The opposite of civility is the violence that comes with the breakdown of civil society—the kind of violence exhibited by the Taliban in their bloody massacre. I told the audience that the Institute defines civility as: “Claiming and caring for one’s own identity, needs and beliefs without degrading someone else’s in the process.”

In the discussion that followed my presentation, I was struck by one man’s suggestion that the Institute’s definition of civility sounds like grace. I’m still thinking about that, but I like that idea. It’s not exactly how my theological dictionary defines grace, but favor and kindness, the definitions for the Greek and Latin words from which our theological term grace is derived, do sound like another way to define civility. That is we stand up for our own beliefs, but we extend favor and kindness to others as they do the same. If all of us practiced that kind of civility, we might have a bit less violence in this weary world.

Grace and Peace,

Donna

The Gift of Presence

Fermin’s dad, Jesus, the patriarch of a large extended family that included 33 grandchildren and several great-grandchildren, was 92 years old when he died recently. I attended his funeral to honor Fermin, and Fermin’s wife, Maria, who have worked at our church for many years, quietly cleaning, moving furniture, and doing what has been asked of them without complaint. Church sextons are underappreciated saints.

In addition to their regular work at our church, a number of years ago, Fermin and Maria graciously helped me lead a Spanish Bible study, so our small adult mission team could prepare for our church’s first adult mission trip, a visit to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. They patiently listened and gently corrected our attempts to speak Spanish as we laughed and learned together. Their assistance helped us better connect with our hosts at the church in Nuevo Laredo and provided a boost to my ongoing efforts to learn to speak Spanish.

I followed Jesus’s family into the sanctuary at one of the local Catholic Churches, not far from my own Presbyterian one, and walked into a different world than the one I inhabit on Sunday mornings at my own church. But also a familiar one because of time spent in worship in Mexico and Cuba and Nicaragua on mission trips. The Catholic worship service was unfamiliar, but the sadness that hung over the gathering was all too familiar from my attendance at similar services in other places. It is hard to say goodbye to a loved one, no matter how long they have lived.

Humbled by their gratitude for my presence at the funeral, all I could do was express my condolences. And remember again how important human presence is, especially when we are hurting. Much as I enjoy being connected with family and friends via the Internet, it’s not the same as being with others in person. God created us for community, for that place where we can share joys and sorrows and laughter and tears and hugs.

Grace and Peace,

Donna

Jesus is my nightlight

I have been thinking about icons after visiting the Icon Exhibit at our local Cultural Activities Center here in Temple. It is a remarkable collection of artwork by a Russian woman done in response to ancient iconography. Icons are not part of my Presbyterian religious tradition and seem like an exotic concept--one in which I have not participated. But then I notice the Jesus candle that is burning next to me as I write.

I told my seminary classmates during my time at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary that Jesus was my nightlight. It is a wonder the old dorm building in which I lived during the week in my two years there did not catch fire from the many candles that burned in many rooms at all hours. A power shortage would not have been a problem. I kept a candle with Jesus and his Sacred Heart pasted on the glass container near the window on my built-in desk in my dorm room. And I kept it lit all night long. I took great comfort from the visual reminder that Jesus was with me during that challenging journey.

I do not remember when the Jesus candle habit originated. I think perhaps some years ago when I taught an adult Sunday school class using Richard Foster’s book, Prayer, a follow-up to his book, Celebration of Discipline, which included prayer. In the class, I used the Jesus candle as a focal point for our prayers. I still keep a Jesus candle burning on our kitchen table. I light it first thing in the morning while I wait for my coffee to brew. My youngest son teased me once a few years ago about the practice, and for probably the only time in my life, I said the right thing at the right time: “The candle is a reminder that Jesus is Lord of this house.” I usually keep a spare Jesus candle on the kitchen counter so I never run out of the light of Jesus.

Recently the candle burned out on Sunday afternoon, and we were without a replacement until I returned from the grocery store Monday morning. I missed the light more than I expected. I do not spend a lot of time sitting and looking at the candle, except at times like now when I’m working at the kitchen table, but it is a comfort to know it is burning there. The candle is a reminder of who, and whose, I am. I’m a visual person, so I value visual symbols, icons perhaps.

I do not normally keep the candle burning here at home overnight. But sometimes I leave it lit as a constant prayer in time of need for individuals, for whole communities, or for myself and those I love. At such times, the light of Jesus is a reminder that Jesus continues to pray for us. Sometimes, Jesus is still my nightlight. 

Grace and Peace,

Donna