One of the DLT groups in our church is hosting a chili cook off tomorrow. The proceeds go towards our new parking lot at the church. Today was decoration day.
Each group submitting a chili got a church door to decorate. Here is the door of the sponsoring group, The Blessing Bunch of Mixed Nuts.
The Book Club door.
While I was at Bible study this morning, my daughter-in-law broke out the Christmas tree. I was just thinking this morning that it was almost time to decorate the Vicarage.
Season changes always create a conflict in me: The last days of one thing, the first days of another.
We are heading into the last days of autumn here in Massachusetts. First frost and maybe snow fly are scheduled for next week.
I had an opportunity to drive down to Wilbraham, for a pastors meeting, this week. The leaves were beautiful. So I took several opportunities to stop on the way home to take some pictures, some memories of the fading season.
One of the things I regularly do is go through my life and evaluate how my life is going. Is it the life God desires for me? Is it the life I want to live? Am I living to my potential? What am I doing that I shouldn’t be doing? What am I not doing that I should be doing?
One of the things I discovered in my latest evaluation, is that I want to get back to writing again. And I want to get back to artistic expression.
We started Royal Rangers (our churches boy’s group) again last week. The first merit we are working on is the art merit. Maybe that is what is driving me back to the desire to create. I want to get back to story. I want to get back to drawing. I want to back to making something that draws on imagination.
Then again, maybe it is something in my current work of pastoring that is driving me to this. I was in a conversation last Friday with someone as I attended a local worship conference. As we spoke I realized just how complex the work of pastoring has been lately. I have many questions about what comes next in the work.
I spent the weekend in deep prayer. As I was praying in the midnight hour on Saturday evening some words and a picture came to mind.
I am not sure what these things mean exactly, but I know they are my brain trying to process some very intricate data. So maybe that is what is driving me back to writing again. I just know that whatever it is, my desire to write again is overwhelming. I need to do it.
What drives you to your writing or your art?
Ministry has shifted again. I think this shift is at least for the winter. About a month and a half ago I moved my day off from Monday to Wednesday. Mondays became a morning Doing Life Together Group (our church’s small group Bible studies) and a worship devotional session at TWR House Of Prayer.
The schedule is now:Sunday church, Monday teaching and service work, Tuesday staff meeting pastoral meetings and Royal Rangers and somewhere in this I have to make sure my sermon is put together and sent off to the admin staff for power pointing.
The last several weeks I have been working on Wednesdays as I transitioned out of other ministry responsibilities. Last night was my first Ranger meeting and today is my first Wednesday Sabbath for real.
I got up this morning after the last three days of ministry and realized just how much I needed a sabbath.
I have known for many years how important sabbath is for the work of ministry. That said, it has been something I have pushed off many times for the necessity of the work. This new schedule is not going to permit that. I toyed with the idea for a while of keeping a couple of work items in the mix for Wednesdays. The way I feel today shows me just how much I will need this.
WHEN IS YOUR SABBATH?
Well, Brenda has returned to her home and ministry in The Netherlands after her six week breakaway.
She sent us a few pictures of her flight back.
And then some shots of her home in Zaandam just to prove she made it.
While she was with us, we had Sevy’s second birthday and Mom’s 87th birthday.
We took a trip to Tennessee to visit friends and to rest in the mountains.
She sang on worship team and visited with friends from the church and the area.
Now it is back to life as “normal” for both us and her. Brenda starts rehearsals for her Christmas shows this week. We have a worship conference and a Fall Festival in town this weekend.
I guess I am not really sure what “normal” is. Brenda says her house is quiet compared to ours. maybe that its back to normal, but I know our house is quieter too without her voice in the room and her present in the table.
Maybe normal is us here and her there. Maybe it is us doing our jobs. But maybe normal is just what we are used to and abnormal is the things we have yet to get used to. Anyway whatever normal is I know we miss Brenda and she misses us.
WHAT DO YOU THINK NORMAL IS?
Today, my mother turns 87 years young.
We will celebrate, simply: A few bouquets, some slippers for winter, a new sweater, cake and ice cream.
Mom has lived an exciting adventure. 87 years is a lot of water under the bridge and a host of life events.
A third generation, Winchendonian, mom’s life has never wandered far afield. She lives in a house, only a mile and a half from where she grew up. The Vicarage is the house she and my father bought when I was in third grade. Still, 87 years in one place can give a person a wealth of experience and wisdom.
My mother grew up on a small farm. She remembers having an outhouse before her father installed indoor plumbing. She learned how to milk a cow and how to gather eggs from chickens. She remembers canning fruits and vegetables for the winter and recalls hand ringing clothes before they were hung to dry outside.
Mom’s father, my grandfather, was a carpenter and a machinist at several local factories. He built the house they lived in with the help of his father and brothers.
Mom’s mother, my grandmother, was the daughter of Finnish, and Swedish immigrants. She ran a tight ship at home, but then she had to. She had eight children and a farm to run.
Mom was daughter number three and child number six. The Family didn’t have much money. Mom put herself through nursing school in Boston.
Her life has spanned: The great depression, World War II, the Korean conflict, Vietnam, 9/11 and Desert storm. Her life has been touched by every president from Roosevelt on.
She raised two children, both of them pastors. She worked as a nurse in four different health care systems. She was married to a small businessman, my father, for 24 years and lived as a widow for thirty years.
Mom traveled the Unites States. She has seen Puerto Rico and Germany. She has visited Old Faithful and the Grand Canyon, DisneyLand and Disney World.
She has served in roles in GirlScouts and Soccer. She was President of Women’s Club and played Golf and Tennis on leagues at different times in her life.
Her world is smaller now. She doesn’t leave home and many of her memories have been stolen by this horrible disease, dementia. It’s a new part of her journey and there is more ahead because life doesn’t end with this life. We celebrate 87 years today, but we also celebrate the years ahead into eternity.
I am so excited about the spirit of collaboration and opportunity I see coming to our little town of Winchendon Massachusetts.
This week my grandson turned 2
At first my son and his wife were going to have a lawn party at my daughter’s home. When rain threatened, though, they decided to seek out a more waterproof option.
The Winchendon CAC, recently acquired the old Playaway Lanes building in town. They are using half the building for food, clothing and benevolence work and the other half as a party venue and community gathering space. Friday nights is community bowling and the space can be rented at other times for meetings or parties.
This space is where my grandson’s party landed.
The space was perfect for the thirty plus guests.
Miranda Jennings and her team set up bumper lanes and ball rollers, perfect for the younger kids or for individuals with disabilities.
Meanwhile, my son and some of the other dads had a pickup game a few lanes down.
There was plenty of of space for food and festivities. The kids loved the piñata. The adults loved the lumpia and pancit my daughter-in-law made.
It was a perfect party space, and the suggested donation helps the CAC continue its essential work in our community. Thank you Miranda and CAC team for all you do.
The long-awaited parking lot project has begun!
I am working from home this week! And all ministry is taking place off campus! We should be back in business by Sunday morning! At least that is the hope. This morning the company doing the lot found a large deposit of clay that needed to be filled in with stone to bring proper drainage.
In July, my son and his family moved back from South Korea. In the middle of August, my sister, Brenda returned to the vicarage for a six week break away.
But Long before they returned, my daughter, Melanie, and her girls Had begun visiting my mother on Tuesday nights while her husband, James and I led a boy’s group at our church, And while Amanda led the teen ministry of our church.
Melanie and I actually had the discussionAbout whether or not her Tuesday night visits should continue with all the extra people in the house. I said yes. I thought we should not stop a healthy, family ritual, rather, we should build on it.
So this summer, Melanie and James have continued to come over with the girls on Tuesday nights. Sometimes, they’ve been the only ones here with mom. Sometimes, they have held game nights with their siblings. sometimes, Melanie has had a meeting, so James has brought the girls. And sometimes like last night, everyone except Amanda was here.
The three grandchildren were running around, making all kinds of noise. We adults spread throughout the house, having group and private conversations. Melanie gave mom a manicure. It was chaos. It was wonderful.
I realize that in a few weeks, James and I will be back teaching the boys group. Brenda will be back in the Netherlands. Amanda will be teaching the teens. But for this brief time we have a season of Tuesday nights. I will cherish them while I have them. And I will cherish them in my memory when they have passed.
Notes From the Vicarage 