helter shelter

The anxiety is ramping in our lives and surely in my belly.

We have a signed purchase agreement on our home. All will be well and good pending a thorough inspection. Someone just spent five hours inspecting our 100-plus year old home.

Now we wait.

In Rochester, our realtor is fielding a counter-offer to the offer we made to buy a home. It was the first one we saw lo those many weeks ago, and it has lived and breathed with us since. We believe it is so very right.

Now we wait.

Oh but I am a crabby woman; thin of skin and jumpy-antsy because this thing called home is a morphing thing.

And in the midst of my crabby, I am chastened by awareness of my staggering privilege.

I have a larger-than-I-need home and I want to purchase same and what, oh what of all those who feel anxiety every day because they are assured of nothing in the way of home.

What of those who are children and teens and adults and elders who have no home?

Our church is working with an organization called Beacon in the metro area. Beacon is an interfaith housing initiative seeking to eradicate the all-consuming misery of soul and body that is homelessness. Through one of their programs called “Families Moving Forward” we will house four families at our church for a week.

It is a monumental undertaking. We are organizing to make sure that we have a welcoming space and food to offer and hospitality to bless but really, one of the most monumental things we privileged folk are undertaking is the willingness to face the reality that the families we welcome live without what we take for granted: home.

We have become willing to encounter our neighbors. We are a ministry outpost in the way of Jesus.

I know myself to be needful of perspective in these days.

I surely want to let go of the soul-roil engaged in fretting about the more-than-I-need.

Time is better spent in pondering what to serve our guests for breakfast on Saturday. Time is better spent thanking God for the volunteers who are committed to showing up. Time is better spent being open to what the Holy has for me to learn.

heart beat

I love being asked to play outside of my usual playground.

An invitation came in from a beloved volunteer at church:  would I speak with the Auxiliary at Walker Methodist?  The requested topic was this:  Why Volunteering Matters.

It was like being asked to talk about why it matters that my heart beats.

I’m never sure what I will meet when I get out of my usual round of role and people.  In this case, I was able to sit at table with people who give time and heart to enriching the lives of residents at senior care facilities.

Walker’s statement of their being is that Walker Methodist is about life, and all the living that goes with it.

I was treated to some of that life today.

It was gift for me.  Any time I get to sit at table with people who give themselves away, I am blessed.  I was able to hear from them why it was they answered their call to ministry and why it was they spend heart stuffs at Walker.

People are amazing.  Two of the people at the table came to the facility because loved ones had been residents for a time.  They came to know first hand the importance of human compassion and care.  And, wonder of wonders, someone noticed their big hearts and invited them to use their gifts.  Many around the table had been volunteers at Walker for decades.  All walked in shine.

Volunteering means we see that we have something powerful to share.  That’s a wondrous thing; to feel that we have something within us worth unpacking and growing.

Volunteers at Walker and at churches and in the community play cards and serve coffee and drive church vans and time swim meets and read books and hug children and welcome and bless.  In so doing, they become part of a web of care that holds us all when life feels wobbly.

So, to all who volunteer, thank you.

You make for heart beat in the world.