kin!

Posted on February 10, 2012 by emacaulay

Just as church was about to begin last Sunday, I noticed a face I hadn’t seen before.

This woman caught my attention. Not just because she was new. There was something about her that called to me.

As she went through the end of service greeting line, she was full of energy and excitement. Pastors like to see that after worship.

What she said was amazing to me. She explained that her great grandfather and mine are the same man.

She is kin.

We made a date to grab coffee and figure out the connections. I met her for the second time this morning. It turns out that she knows many more of the pieces of my family story than I do. But what she came to figure out was that my dad was “Mickey” and he officiated at her wedding, among other things.

We talked about “Macaulay” traits and quirks and about the ways she sees her mother in my face.

Wow. Living not two miles from my church is a woman whose story I share at a cellular and anecdotal level. The intersections of our lives is amazing, down to the nickname her husband uses to refer to her: “Bitsy”. I went by that name for forty years. It was a name given me by my father, he of the Macaulay penchant for words and expansively lived life.

We have much to catch up on, this new-found kin and I.

But for now, I am content to live in the wonder of a woman who found her way to the church I serve. In her presence I remember, name, and share the bones of heritage.

This world is wide. Kin, both biological and spiritual, arrive when we least expect them and perhaps most need them.

I’m feeling woven into the mystery of the Holy that shines from us each, lighting our way home.

stepping out

Posted on February 9, 2012 by emacaulay

Sometimes I look around me and realize that I live a church saturated life.

So tonight, I’m stepping out!

I am co-leading a pilgrimage to Ireland next September. For ten days, I will travel with 30 people to experience the “thin places” in Ireland. We will trek mountains and wander around ancient monasteries and soak in the Holy we experience in each other and the ancient.

I am doing this pilgrimage in part because of a sense shared with me by a healer I encountered. She intuited that I am a singer. True, that. And, she said, I needed to go to Ireland to discover the song of my people. I shared with her that I am descended from Scots. Her response was that my people may have immigrated from Scotland, but that at some point my ancestors were Irish.

Ireland, she said, was calling to me.

So I am listening to that call. Imagining the trip is already soul gift.

And, tonight I am immersing myself in the nuances of that call. A dear friend and colleague who is one of the trip leaders sent me a flyer from the Irish Music Center in St Paul. It turns out they are offering a Irish Song class there over a number of weeks.

We are going. I am going in order to learn the songs and use my rusty vocal cords. And, I am going because I expect that in that circle I will encounter an elemental sacred hum not orchestrated by church.

I’m stepping out and into a new thing.

It’s already good.

heart web

Posted on January 27, 2012 by emacaulay

I witness beauty on a daily basis.

Lately I have been moved by the ways people are beauty, one for the other.

I sit at table with a group of men every Wednesday morning for bible study. Some of them walk to get to church. Others are dropped off by their wives, because they are no longer able to drive. One man comes to bible study because every week his church friend comes to pick him up. The man who is picked up is 93. The man who picks him up is 91. Every Wednesday they come to drink coffee and swap one-liners and prayers.

Without a ride to church, one of our number would not be able to share in community.

Kindness matters.

I watch people reach out for squirmy babies. I watch people listen attentively. I watch people bite their tongues when a retort would feel lovely. I watch people quiet themselves in the presence of people they trust and feel safe with. It is like watching flowers unfold in order to soak in sunlight.

I am in the midst of these ministers. Daily I witness grace.

The ways we live kindness bears witness to our faith convictions in ways no words can voice.

I’m grateful to be in community where hearts are woven into a web of care and compassion.

Daily I witness beauty.

yikes!

Posted on January 19, 2012 by emacaulay

I was settling into to being home after a long Wednesday. It was dark and cold and our house, even though old and sieve-like, felt warm and cozy.

I glanced up and there was a masked man on our front porch, peering in the window.

After my heart lurched, I realized that it was son Jameson. He is one of those winter bikers. He is swaddled head to toe in gear. At first glance, his own mother didn’t recognize him.

He was here to pick up his college books. The wonder of used books on Amazon is great, so having pushed buttons, said books arrived here and were awaiting pickup.

What a treat.

It is good to love my work. Throwing myself into the sea of people on a Wednesday night at church is gift. We have a church dinner that serves sixty or so people and at table I get a chance to catch up with folk about life and life always has to do with family.

Coming home after such a time to an unexpected appearance of my own flesh kin was so fine.

The books were unwrapped, stories swapped, hugs shared and he was off.

I went to bed feeling the kind of wholeness that comes with being able to see and hear and touch and sniff my children.

There are wonders aplenty in the world.

The fierce warm that is love is life kindling. In the physical cold of a Minnesota winter, it sparks the heat of wonder. In the sometimes emotional and spiritual stagger of life, it sustains, does love.

possibility!

Posted on January 15, 2012 by emacaulay

Today we explored a biblical text that asks us to own prejudice.

When presented with the wonder that is Jesus, one of the approached soon-to-be disciples cannot believe that anything good can come out of Nazareth. Big shrug. Why bother? He almost loses the chance of a lifetime because of his reliance on what he thinks he knows.

So our Director of Spiritual Formation did a children’s sermon with a green pepper as her object lesson. She had the kids smell it and feel it and talk about the assumptions they had about what was inside of it: seeds, the usual green pepper accoutrements.

As the children’s lesson wound down the kids were losing focus and interest and I could feel the sanctuary making the internal shift from children’s lesson to what was to come next.

And then this amazing thing happened. Marcia took off the top of that green pepper and do you know it was chock-full of M & M candies!!!!

Holy cow, I have NEVER felt the energy in the sanctuary shift with such gusto in my eight plus years at Richfield.

Chocolate! In a place unexpected! How can we keep from singing!

I’m still laughing. I think the kids and adults gathered got the message: prejudging can cost the world a heart.

As for me, I learned that if, while preaching, I get the sense that people are slipping away from me, I will unveil a green pepper stuffed with chocolate.

And then look out! Anything is possible.

pillars

Posted on January 1, 2012 by emacaulay

This is a not-meant-to guilt post.

This is a shout-out to all those who come to church on the first Sunday of the New Year.

Today in worship we shared words and heart longings hundreds of years old. We shared a part of Wesley’s Covenant Service. The thought is that when we are mindful of that which we seek, we are more apt to give ourselves over to it.

What we prayed about and recommitted ourselves to is living in a relationship of trust with the Holy. We named our desire to let go of the worry nattering that clogs our soul-waves. We named our desire to give our lives and our hearts over to God’s keeping.

And then we shared the meal of Jesus together. It was a seemly first feast in this year we trust will be grace.

Wherever it is you find yourself on this day, the prayer is yours for the holding today and all days:

I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

Covenant Prayer From John Wesley’s Covenant Service , 1780

Let us be full, let us be empty according to God’s desire for our unfolding.

Happy New Year!

Merry!

Posted on December 24, 2011 by emacaulay

We walk in Christmas.

We carry in our bodies the presence of Christmas past. In us are the sloppy kisses of our grandfathers and the amped-up wonder of Christmas morning and the candle glow of decades of “Silent Night” singing. These are gifts, these body knowings.

We carry too the questions and disappointments of the years. When was it Santa became parental? How did we negotiate the sharing of time when new life was grafted into old? After deaths and the death that is divorce, how was Christmas negotiated and how would hearts ever ease again? These questions we carry with us always. Our bodies remember.

And, our bodies know in some deep and wise place that Christmas does indeed walk with us always; that is, the Word became flesh and it indeed dwells among us and through us and with us no matter where it is we find ourselves.

How do we live Christmas?

Mindfully, is my prayer. As I enter this day before Christmas, imagining the two services of worship to come and the meal shared with family, I pray that my own awareness of the candle glow of the Christ within and with me will light my way.

And, I pray for the wisdom to allow that light of the Christ to light my life.

Merry Christmas, beloveds. You have blessed me and the others with whom you share light and love.

Merry Christmas.

engaged

Posted on December 1, 2011 by emacaulay

“The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.” Ellie Wiesel

Wednesdays are dense and luscious for me.

I begin my day at eight AM with a table full of wonderful men. We gather together for Bible study. They have been doing this for decades, these men. They let me join in.

I learn much at that table. We talk about many things (studying scripture does that) together. We are diverse as can be. Gender, generations and political ideologies stretch us to hear and understand in a way grounded in the power of the Christ. We see each other in a more fulsome way. We aren’t sword wielders for a cause, we are people full of holy passion for life and learning and we trust each other enough to share our sense of things in a way that invites listening. At that table I am a deeper and finer thing than merely Pastor. I am sister in Christ.

On Wednesday nights I meet with a wonderful collection of humans who come together to explore Christian discipleship. We are exploring Wesleyan theology and what it means to be an accountable disciple in the way of John Wesley. Wesley knew how we need each other in order to grow into our fullness. On Wednesday nights, we are able to explore words that jangle and stretch: sin and salvation, grace and justice. The room hums with the power of the collected souls. We are kin in Christ and the joy of our mindful seeking permeates the places of tired and despair that walk in us each.

There is much the church is not. Sometimes people seize on the “is not” with a seeming glee. Armed with conviction about the glaring flaws, distance is cultivated and tended.

But there are others. Others who practice the engagement of being willing to hear the heart of another and in that hearing know the soundings of the Holy.

Indifference is a choice.

I’m moved by those who choose engagement. My life and the lives the engaged are blessed to lead are the better for it.

heart stretch

Posted on November 28, 2011 by emacaulay

One of the dangers of church work is the engagement of heart.

At worship yesterday, I shared with the gathered the deaths of two of our members. They are people who had given much to their church: companionship, insight, great hugs, and beauty. When the news of death is shared, the whole sanctuary goes through an energy shift. People are instantly in the place of heart.

Following worship during a scheduled meeting in the sanctuary, I noticed one of our members standing in the back of the sanctuary. It was odd, this sight, since she is usually robed and singing with the choir. The language of her body told me that something was up, but with another worship service soon to start, I wasn’t able to connect with her.

The reason for her unlikely position in the sanctuary became clear later. She had gone to pick up one of our beloved older members for church. They like each other greatly, these two, and enjoy the ride to church together every week. The door was not answered this week. Louise had died in her sleep the night before. Her friend had come to church to share the news and to be with her people.

There are all the positives to know in my head: She was in her upper eighties. She died peacefully.

My head works the check-list of goods, but my heart feels the ache of her passing.

Louise gave huge heart to her church. She was on staff for a time. She coordinated counters for years. And, she was the membership secretary since forever. Looking at our church records, there is a beautiful visual poetry in the names written by her hand; names representing human lives willing to join their being with a church called “Richfield”. Their names are in the book of life tended by Louise.

She had been at church just this past week for her book and people tending. She was full of delight at a recent article written about her grandson, and her pictures of great grand babies were oohed over by all. She was grounded and alive, full of the sass and heart that permeated her being.

I serve a congregation that walks in beauty. I have been in their midst some eight plus years and there has grown in my heart a deep love for those kind and good enough to allow me to be Pastor.

Louise was a champion. I will miss her voice, her love for her people, and her love for her church. She and her husband Larry created a powerful flock of people who will bless in their stead for generations. This I know in my head.

But my heart? It is feeling the ache and beauty of grief and celebration, both.

The blessing of being in communion with Louise made for fine heart stretch.

Living Waters

Celebrating the Sacred

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