Remembering

 

November 29

Happy birthday, Mom.

We miss you.

Leave to Your God to Order and Provide

 

At Beech Mountain on a very happy day

Bad things happen in threes, the old saying goes. If it’s true, it means maybe I’m in the clear now.

First, on Sunday afternoon, our pianist at Massey’s called to tell me he has been hired by University UMC, the same church who “stole” his singer wife from us four years ago. Well, actually, Kindred Church, the new-church start of University, stole her from us, and now that Kindred is wandering around Durham and probably struggling, University stole her from its own former new-church start. Andrew says he is going to be the organist there, although he doesn’t really play the organ. “You’ll be wasted on the organ,” I told him (at that hoity-toity, rich, elderly church), I didn’t add. But no, he’ll also play the piano. He and wife have big plans for new music at University! Good luck with that, I thought.

Then, Monday, I fell when I was outside. I was pulling the grill cover out of the ditch where the wind had blown it, and my shoe caught under the paver of our patio, and down I went – mostly on the concrete – hard. I lay there awhile looking up at the sky, feeling fortunate my head was resting on mulch and plants rather than pavers. I gingerly tested out the painful areas – hip, knees, hand. All bruised but not broken, thank God.

On Monday and Tuesday, I received my first personal-attack emails at Massey’s, from a Presbyterian pastor’s widow who affiliated with Massey’s but never joined. She got angry with me back in June and left Massey’s to join a Presbyterian church. Her very long and rambling emails blamed me for her bleeding ulcer in October and accused me of doing and saying all kinds of terrible things to her, all untrue. I discovered she also is sending these emails to folks in the congregation, at least one of whom forwarded it to the former pastor. Personal attacks are so difficult, and of all the people in the congregation, she should know better. I think she might have the beginnings of dementia. I let the SPRC know about it.

It was worse to discover the former pastor who lives in the attacker’s neighborhood with a lot of other church members, was already involved in it. She had more to pile on.

“You should know,” she told me, “that So-and-So (a Massey family member) is furious you’re not going to have a Christmas Eve service.” I guess she should have let me know when I asked for objections several times back in early November, I replied. She said: When Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday when I was pastor, we always had a packed night service. The family” has a tradition of going out to dinner together afterwards. Miss Annie is probably spinning in her grave.

I doubt it.

I was almost too upset to pray about it all. After about five miserable attempts, the Spirit whispered to me: “Be Still, My Soul.” So I listened to the hymn on my phone, eyes closed, and it was just what I needed to hear.

Be still my soul: the Lord is on your side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

leave to your God to order and provide;

in every change God faithful will remain.

Be still my soul: your best, your heavenly friend

through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

 

Be still, my soul: your God will undertake

to guide the future, as in ages past.

Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;

all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know

his voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Gratitude

 

I am grateful to be grandmother to Michelle and Zach

Monday was my annual consultation – as part of a group of contented or retiring clergy, I was invited to meet early with the district superintendent. I fall among the contented, not the retiring.

I decided not to retire on my July trip to the mountains. Refreshed and renewed, I returned to Massey's Chapel feeling good and grateful. The DS said I should ask for that kind of time off – which doesn’t count as vacation, he said -- every year. Maybe I will, assuming we have discretionary income after purchasing another house.

Keith and I got an offer on our house two days ago from the only person who already has been approved for membership at Elderberry. We still need a contract. She lives in Texas but plans to visit the community again in December, and we hope to get a contract and earnest money then. There are still a lot of unknowns.

I pray a lot for Elderberry and for the hostages in the Middle East. I pray for personal peace.

Filled with nervous energy, I have been writing sermons so that I won’t think about it all. I’ve completed sermons through the second Sunday of Advent; I've planned the music and the Advent wreath readings. I've made a new Advent wreath; last year's was falling apart. 

I need to walk more and say goodbye to the forest here. The paths are so covered with leaves it’s difficult to walk.

I’ve started playing pickleball! I’m not very good; it’s not like tennis. But I like it. 

Thanksgiving is Thursday. Eric, Katherine, Jonathan, and I will follow our Thanksgiving tradition and play tennis in the morning, then gather for dinner in the afternoon. As usual, I have much for which to thank God.