Waiting for Smalls...

There is yet no word from Chicago. After eight and a half months of serious construction work, elder son and his lovely wife, having done everything they can to prepare, are now just waiting for the appearing of their first-born…a child of unknown gender who has become affectionately known in the family as “Smalls.” 

And it’s not just Chicago that’s waiting. Here in a small town four hours away, a suitcase is mostly packed, a list is made, the gas tank is full, and a new rocker is ready to stuff into the minivan for what will be a very speedy trip along the toll roads between here and the Prentice Women’s Hospital just a block from Lake Michigan. Other than that…we’re just waiting, too.

It occurs to me, however, that this is a different kind of waiting…something that evokes Advent rather than late summer. It is anticipation tinged with joy and anxiety and a kind of wide-eyed wonder at the mundane miracle of love that blossoms into new life. 

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if each day could dawn like this? How might our lives (and the lives of those around us) be changed if we let the Spirit so work in our hearts? There are, after all, different ways of receiving the days we are given. Perhaps we see what lies before us each morning as a kind of nervous and judgmental “to do” list, ready to condemn us for not getting everything done that we should and reminding us that we’re always behind somebody’s idea of a schedule. Better, I think: the tasks we take on today are an opportunity for living into God’s future, building for the coming of something as wonderful as a new child…that hopeful kingdom which in Christ has already come near, and that shows itself in each chance to share the healing and hopeful word of God.

Someday soon, I get to be a grandfather for the first time. Until that day, I’d like my preparations to be worthy of the miracle of the gift of life that God is granting…not just in baby Smalls, but in each and every person who is part of the work and play, service and sharing, laughter and sorrow and joy we are given to share with each other. With God’s help… 

By the way...The name? A result of morning sickness and this.

Fried...

This past Saturday evening, a line of hefty thunderstorms blew through our area. In the midst of what’s been a very dry summer, we are thankful for the rains. But the lightning is a less welcome guest…especially when you consider that, for the second time this summer, a huge power surge came roaring through our phone lines, frying nearly everything in its path. Even the filter which we had cleverly installed after the last incident was no help. In fact, it was literally blown into a pile of carbon-coated pieces. The result is that, since Saturday evening, we’ve had no phones, no fire alarm system, and only limited internet access. Now, really…how are you supposed to do ministry in this day and age without phones, fire alarms, and the world wide web?

I know. It’s a first-world problem. Phone system problems never stopped Jesus from doing ministry. But I have spent the better part of this Monday morning talking to and working with the technicians who know how to fix this stuff, negotiating repair timelines, and keeping our Property Board folks in the loop, and wondering about how we absorb the cost of these repairs for the second time in seven weeks. The result? The alarm system isn’t the only thing that’s fried. I am a bit frazzled, too.

It’s not that I’m complaining. OK…maybe I am complaining a little bit. But really…it’s more that I’m wondering how we keep from getting bogged down in the management of places and institutions so that our energies can be focused more keenly on being Christian and doing God’s work in this place. 

And then it hits me: there is absolutely no reason why these little (and not so little) hiccups have to stand in the way of my doing what I’m created and called to do. The fact of the matter is that, even if all systems were functioning perfectly this morning, I would still have found ways to waste time and not live up to God’s expectations for my life. Sure, the phone lines are messed up. But the deeper mess is within me…in my inability to take each day, with its challenges and possibilities, on its own terms. The real issue is my inability to trust that God can work around our broken gadgets and sagging spirits to get done what really needs done.

Yes…the phones still need to get fixed. But repairing our stuff and our structures is not in and of itself the challenge before us. Lightning bolts will strike without regard for the holiness of our mission or the burdensome size of our insurance deductible. But we need not be fried as a consequence. Remembering and acting upon the great privilege of living in God’s grace, no matter what each day brings: that’s the real issue.

Gotta go. It’s time to let the repair guy into the alarm system panel…and time to let the Spirit more fully into me.

DLN@CCD