Sunday, September 14, 2014


I don't think pastors mean to hyper-function in the fall, but we do. It spills over into programming and ambition that demands the attention of everyone in the pews and on the mailing list: Rally Day! Big events! Special Sundays! Capital appeals! Aggressive fellowship! Sunday School Revamp! Every summer I mean to avoid this sprint into autumn…and every September I realize I'm already 50 meters in.

I have told you about Zion's tired leaders. We don't need more to do and so the big experiments are happening in place of things that are dying or stagnate already:

Third Sunday Bible Studies are now a collaboratively hosted confirmation program for all ages. Competition, Lutherisms, and baptismal promises rediscovered - but mostly story telling, faith sharing, and eating soup together. Some might come from Bethlehem and I will only be leading a few sessions.

Only one or two of our Sunday School kids can attend on Sunday mornings this fall. So what if "Sunday School" is on Wednesday evenings before the community dinner? What if parents have the option to hang out during it? What if older kids help and neighbor kids wander in?

After three years of polka on Rally Day, we decided to invite the MN Adult & Teen Challenge Choir to lead worship with us this morning. They shared stories and sang for us - we shared communion and a good word about Abraham's blessing. I could hear them resonating with the Recovery Worship elements that were present in the service. Some live just a few blocks away and I know they'll be back.

Several of us hosted a space at Nicollet Open Streets this afternoon. Jasper provided warm hospitality to everyone under 40" in height while we helped kids make bracelets, apply fake tattoos, and told them about the little church just 2 blocks away.  Together we created a prayer garland filled with hopes, dreams, and peace. It adored the ugly shed and fence behind our table, an eyesore that has always longed for TLC. After a few hours, I stepped back and just watched - the people of Zion are so good at loving their neighbors without a hidden agenda or motivation. 

I am trying to step back more often these days. As I bless leaders releasing their dutiful burdens at Zion, I am watching them rediscover what excites them. They bumble while asking for permission to do the most beautiful, spirit-led things. And then I do my best to say YES! OF COURSE! without stepping any closer. I am weaning from so much doing and finally learning to lead.

* * *

Sometimes when I come home late in the day, the girls don't want to nap. Instead, they want to be held on each hip and smothered in kisses while they bury their milky mouths in my neck. I can feel their fatigue through the giggles, but they do not give in. Cuddling takes priority.

So my aching body held them all evening - while directing train table traffic with Jasper, while microwaving another mediocre dinner, while talking to Matt as he sat in the Michigan airport, while singing grace, while watering the grass seed. 

It was uncomfortable holding their wiggly bodies to my chest because I am weaning them as well. I am retiring from the dairy business this weekend, which is emotional but welcome. It has been a privilege to feed people - to nourish them with my body. Everything about carrying and laboring and feeding these girls has been intense compared to Jasper and life before babies. Stepping away from that causes me to ache - mostly because life in hours and ounces has been my habitat and vocation for so long. But also because I will never share my body like this again and there is great grief in letting go.

I put them to bed and then lay down on the living room floor, my back relieved by the clock and the silence. Laundry! Dishes! Trash! Unpack the van! Roll up the hose! Mail pile! Wash bottles! Pump!

The list echoed in my head, but I decided to stay on the ground until I could hear my own body and the inner voice I'd been missing. So I listened for a rhythm beyond hours and ounces that used to guide me through the day. I took deep breaths when the list got loud and waited patiently for my body to tell me something - anything - I'd been ignoring for all these months. I cried a lot. And then I heard her:

Thank you for listening.
Welcome back.
Did you know you have to pee?
Also, there are ice cream sandwiches in the freezer.