Footwashings from Canon Perrizo

By Canon Faith C. Perrizo

March 3, 2012

The Slow Work of God

Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are, quite naturally, Impatient in everything to reach the end Without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way To something unknown, Something new And yet it is the law of all progress That it is made by passing through Some stages of instability – And that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you. Your ideas mature gradually – Let them grow. Let them shape themselves, Without undue haste. Don’t try to force them on, As though you could be today What time (that is to say, grace and circumstance Acting on you own good will) Will make you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit Gradually forming within you will be. Give Our Lord the benefit of believing That His hand is leading you, And accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense And incomplete. ‐‐Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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You are my beloved, my little one!

I have created you I have chosen you And so you are You are a competent, intelligent, compassionate, wise woman Through me and with me all things are possible Trust ‐ come abide with me Rest for a while in my embrace Tomorrow we will celebrate the wonder and joy of all you are becoming Tomorrow you will know love, my little one For now Teach as you have been taught Preach my word Share my message of hope and love with all you meet Heal others as you have been healed Break bread and share wine Celebrate Come, my little one, my beloved Arise and follow me.

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You are with me always – In the questions and in the searching of my heart Lover, Teacher, Healer, and Guide Special Companion for the journey Directing me according to your plan.

Resisting – I discover pain Controlling – I create obstacles Directing – I encounter chaos

You call and I do not hear Your lead and I do not follow And yet, ever faithful , you persist

In patience – seeds are planted In patience – plants are nourished In patience – blossoms emerge Your presence warms my heart Your light shines in my darkness Your gifts abound ‐magical ‐unique ‐cherished You whisper in the stillness Nudging me to be – Forming, affirming, evaluating Awaiting my answer Testing my faith Stimulating growth Promising fulfillment

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐ Archbishop Oscar Romero It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us. No statement says all that can be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the church's mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that will one day grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there's a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not the Master Builder; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own. Amen.

January 5, 2012

Below is an article from the Episcopal News service on the Week of Christian Unity and the recent move by the Pope to offer sanctuary to Episcopalians who have left the continuing Episcopal Church. I thought it worth sharing. The author is a former Roman Priest who is now an Episcopal Priest. Rather than rant and rave about the Pope (grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change…), his article is written with grace.

Catholic ‘and’ Episcopalian By Dan Webster

[Episcopal News Service] January brings an annual event, the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (Jan 18‐ 25). Across the country you will find ecumenical services in various houses of Christian worship, all with the intent to bring about Jesus’ prayer for us to his Father, “…that they may be one as we are one.” (John 17:22)

This new year also officially brings to the U.S. Roman Catholic efforts to create a church home for disaffected Anglicans and Episcopalians. A liturgical rite (aka, “ordinariate”) has been established for parishes and clergy wishing to leave the Anglican tradition and unify with Rome.

St. Luke’s parish in Bladensburg, Maryland, in the Episcopal Diocese of Washington was the first to be received last October. Baltimore’s Mount Calvary Church in the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland, with its 20 voting members, will be next.

Much has been made in the mainstream media of the popularity for such action. History and current data reveals otherwise.

According to national survey data from the Episcopal Church, 12 percent of Episcopalians are former Roman Catholics. The figures are higher in areas of the Episcopal Church where the predominant faith is Roman Catholic. A very small percentage of our 7,000 Episcopal parishes have witnessed a majority of their members leaving for other expressions of the Anglican tradition. Far fewer have sought a return to Rome.

I am one of the 12 percent. Raised Roman Catholic, I was instructed in the Baltimore Catechism, attended Catholic schools, spent time in a Catholic seminary in college, and came of age during the Second Vatican Council. Those leaving the Roman church have their own reasons. Mine included the primacy of the pope, exclusion of women in leadership positions, and the discrimination of LGBT Christians.

There’s a book about us. In Finding Home, Stories of Roman Catholics Entering the Episcopal Church (Cowley, 1997), Christopher L. Webber chronicles the journey of 11 Catholics into the Episcopal Church. One is the Rev. Matthew Fox, the former Dominican now a priest in the Episcopal Diocese of California and founder of the University of Creation Spirituality. “My decision to embrace the Anglican tradition,” said Fox in 1994, “is about including some anglo‐saxon (and celtic) common sense into twenty‐first century catholicism.” Fox cited the Dominican tradition of Thomas Aquinas and Meister Eckhart as completely compatible in Anglicanism. They included “the broad themes of mysticism, social justice, Christian unity, and the central concern for creation,” wrote Webber.

“I think the Episcopal Church became the church envisioned in Vatican II,” the Rt. Rev. William Swing told me when he was my bishop in the Episcopal Diocese of California. He said he received at least one serious inquiry per month from Roman Catholic clergy seeking to become Episcopal priests during his 26 year episcopacy. (Swing is the bishop who received Matthew Fox.)

The Week of Prayer for Christian Unity was begun just over 100 years ago by the Franciscan Friars of the Atonement when they were still Episcopalian with roots in the Order of the Holy Cross. Later, they became a Roman Catholic order. Trying to keep track of all this could make an ecclesiastical traffic cop dizzy.

For Roman Catholics, Christian unity may come down to union with Rome as an ordinariate for various denominations under the authority of the pope and the Magisterium.

Or maybe it will be something altogether quite different. It may be a system or non‐institution that any of us have yet to imagine, although it’s difficult to imagine the need for such. Nearly all denominations accept each other’s baptism if done in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Isn’t that unity? Aren’t we already one if we agree on common membership in the Body of Christ?

The ordinariate is Rome’s latest effort toward unity as defined by the Vatican. For me, I strive every day to be a faithful Catholic, just not Roman Catholic.

The late John Cogley, a former Roman Catholic author, editor of Commonweal and columnist for the National Catholic Reporter, may have said it best when writing about his journey into the Episcopal Church: “I do not look upon this move as a ‘conversion’ since I have not changed any of the beliefs I formerly held. Rather, it is a matter of finding my proper spiritual home.”

I suspect former Roman Catholics and former Episcopalians could each say the same of their new spiritual home. And they would both be right.

– The Rev. Canon Dan Webster is canon for evangelism and ministry development in the Diocese of Maryland and former media relations director for the National Council of Churches of Christ in the USA.

December 2, 2011 I have the privilege of traveling all around the diocese and visiting many of our churches over the course of a year. In each place, I learn something new, or pick up a blessing or two. On Advent I, I served at St. Stephen’s, Beckley, and picked up a little Advent Daily Meditations booklet called Preparing for Christmas, authored by Roman Catholic Franciscan named Richard Rohr. Below is the reading for today, which particularly struck me as something worth sharing, since one of our Diocesan themes in the past few years has been about transformation. ( I think specifically of Canon Vinson’s Transforming Church workshops, and the Stewardship Conference’s showing of Dewitt Jones’ film Celebrate What’s Right with the World.) Thanks to St. Stephen’s for this added resource !

From Friday of the First Week of Advent

Allowing God’s Truth:

Jesus clearly says that the kingdom of God is among us ( Luke 17:21) or “at hand” ( Matthew 3:2,4:17). One wonders why we made it into a reward system for later, or as some call it, “a divine evacuation plan” from this world. Maybe it was easier to obey laws and practice rituals for later than to actually be transformed now.

The real transformation is high. It means that we have to change our loyalties from power, success, money and control (read: “our kingdoms”) to the Lordship of Jesus and the kingdom of God. Henceforth, there is only one thing that is Absolute and, in relationship to that, everything else is relative—everything—even the church (Don’t think I am disloyal because the failure to understand this is what got many of our leaders into trouble recently), even our nation, even national security, even our wealth and possessions, even our identity and reputation. All of our safety nets must now be of secondary or even tertiary importance, or even let go of, because Jesus is Lord! Whatever you trust to validate you and secure you is your real god, and the Gospel is saying, “Will the real God please stand up?”

We can see why there are so few kingdom people. Jesus is saying that all these systems are passing away and limited and that we should not put all of our eggs into such baskets. Yes, we need to work inside of these institutions for social order and some small degree of justice, but we shouldn’t think these systems will ever of themselves accomplish God’s justice or God’s reign. If a person thinks this, he or she will end up bitter by the second half of life.

What in your life gives you false happiness and fulfillment and prevents you from letting God’s truth break into your life?”

Archdeacon’s note: Given the stresses and strains of our life as U.S. citizens at this time in our history, Rohr’s meditation causes me to stop and assess what is really important and what I really value. May you have a Blessed and Transformative Advent!

March 8, 2011 The following reflection on Spring, Reading, and Perseverance comes from the Rev. Michael Simon, Zion/Hedgesville and St. Mark's/Berkeley Springs.

Those who really know me have never accused me of being an optimist – and they’re right. I not only think the glass is half empty, I want an immediate investigation to find out who stole the other half. But once a year I lay aside my good sense and join the optimists. March 1 is the first day of meteorological Spring. And so I pity those of you who will wait three more weeks to celebrate the end of cold, snow and ice. For me, Spring is here.

Just as I was beginning to feel really sorry for myself with the 25‐degree temperatures and the 6 inches of snow on the deck, our Senior Warden introduced me to the Kindle and it has changed my life. For those of you who are not tech geeks, a Kindle is a computer‐like instrument that allows you to read books. You can download books and read them on a small but adequate screen. And best of all, the kinds of books I read are free. Now, of course I’m not talking about the romance novels Kathe prefers. All the books I read are long out of copyright. I just finished reading Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elinore Pruitt Stewart. Before you expect something exciting, let me tell you these are really letters and were written by a woman homesteading out west during he early 1900s. She kept warm by building fires and piling on blankets. The snows were often fifteen feet deep. She grew all her own food and managed to raise a family. And she did it while maintaining remarkably good mental health.

Elinore had no formal education. She was born into poverty and worked as a washerwoman until she saw her chance to homestead by accompanying Clyde Stewart to Wyoming. She claimed 160 acres next to Clyde’s, married him and raised a family. In the days long before liberation she managed to advocate for women’s rights, raise independent daughters and help all sorts of people out of all sorts of difficulties. All of this is described in letters to her former employer. In one, she reports that her ten‐ year‐old daughter had wanted to grow potatoes and with the help of someone to plow the field had managed to produce a crop in the hundreds of pounds.

I’m not sure if it is the book or the coming of Spring but I am once again reminded that each one of us has everything we need to achieve great things. Read the book. You can download it free from Gutenberg.org. Look around for people you can empower. Even if you’re not an optimist, this is a great time to accomplish something.

February 12, 2011

The Rev. Theresa Kelley came across this recently and reminded me of his great meditation.

A Meditation from Oscar Romero It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us. No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own. Amen.

Archbishop Oscar Romero served the people of El Salvador and was assassinated in 1980 while he was saying mass in San Salvador.

October 4, 2010

I had the privilege this weekend to attend three of the events scheduled with our Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts‐Schori. During that time, she answered many questions and entered into dialogue around several issues. Two of the questions and responses from clergy day, and a short piece from her sermon, make up this Footwashing. I hope they refresh your soul.

The first question was: “You have been involved in promoting total ministry/baptismal ministry. Can you talk about what that is for you?”

The PB began by saying it was like Abraham in the desert when he learned the meaning of the belief that God will provide. “Even when it seems like there is not much available to us, we have enough. The question is, how can we use what we have? Total ministry is a gift for the larger community. It is the church feeding and equipping people for ministry in their daily lives. We get so focused on survival (we forget) that we exist for the larger world, not for ourselves. Ministry of all the baptized is using all our gifts for the good of God’s people. “ The PB recommended visiting the website for All Saint’s Episcopal Church in Pasadena, CA , as an example of a larger church that has put total ministry in to practice.

The second question was: “How has your ministry been affected by what you’ve experienced as the Presiding Bishop?”

The PB replied that she had had her views expanded and her sense of compassion deepened. Bishop Katherine shared that she had been greatly moved by the faith of the poorest of the poor, a depth of faith that “this church knows in pieces, but not everywhere”. A renewed and deepened sense of the diversity of the church has come through her travels to the many dioceses, both in the US and abroad. She reminded us that the Episcopal Church not only includes the Dioceses in the US, but also includes 26 additional dioceses in the Caribbean, the South Pacific, Central and South America, and the American Convocation of Churches in Europe. As a scientist by training, she added that diversity is very healthy if you are looking at life from a biological standpoint.

Bishop Katherine touched on the meaning of sacrifice in her sermon at the Eucharist during clergy day. “Sacrifice”, she said, “is not giving up goodies so someone else can have more. God’s ecology is larger than that. In the Holy Act of seeking well‐being for others… we discover our lives by giving them away.”

May God continue to richly Bless our Presiding Bishop in her ministry and keep her safe in all her travels.

February 19, 2010

As we contemplate Jesus’ time in the wilderness, his faithfulness to God, and our call to discipleship, I share the following short story with you:

Last month I went to New Haven, Connecticut to facilitate a workshop for the Episcopal senior seminarians at Berkeley Divinity School at Yale. It was scheduled about two weeks after the earthquake in Haiti. While there, I encountered two seminarians who had just returned from Haiti. On January 18, they felt called by the Holy Spirit to go help. There were no commercial airplanes flying at that time, but they each packed a backpack, went to JFK airport, and managed to find a plane to Haiti. They had no idea when and how they’d get home. They spent a week offering themselves as go‐fers for any relief agency that needed them. They managed to find a plane home a week later.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been on a mission trip—well planned far ahead, training received to be “short term missionaries”, clearly sponsored by a church, a place I knew I’d be sleeping‐‐ with water to wash up, bottled water available, and some sort of sanitary facilities. And here were two young men, who’d gone in to the wilderness with very little in the way of provisions and no knowledge of what, if anything would be provided. Total trust in God and willingness to just “go” when called. Something for each of us to think about this Lent.

August 17, 2009

Thanks to Diane Cormack, in my convalescence I am reading Joan Chittister’s Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, a book on applying Benedictine principles to daily life for all of us. She speaks of the importance of community. When people ask you why you go to church or, heaven forbid, you start such a conversation yourself‐‐ the importance of belonging to a community should be part of the answer. Although I could not get to church yesterday, church came to me:

First‐ The Rev. Lisa Heller came with Holy Eucharist Second‐ Cathy Downer (Methodist laywoman in my ecumenical reflections group) came with a casserole and conversation. Third‐ a former parishioner from St. Luke’s came with a casserole. (She is a living witness to knee replacement working!) Fourth‐ Linda Steelman, Congregational church’s pastor came with a prayer shawl. She came to Marietta about 2 yrs after I did and is still here !

And prior to that, of course, was the ministry of Theresa Kelley, who stepped in to be my support person for a day while my sons were called to Minnesota for their grandmother’s funeral!

Chittister reminds us that not only do we receive such blessings in community, when it’s our turn to do so, we are also called to give such blessings to others. This came to me in full circle as I remembered the times I’d had the privilege to minister to each of the persons above. In the colloquial turn of phrase we are reminded to “pay it forward” OR “what goes around comes around”!

Thanks to all who sent prayers my way and Praise God for all Good Things!

July 5, 2009

Summer is often a time of journeying—to a family reunion, a getaway in the mountains, to the beach. Sometimes our journey is more like a pilgrimage, we are on our way to seek something—relaxation, refreshment, a new perspective on our life, new energy for moving forward or continuing to do what we’ve been doing. In my daily prayers I often turn to a book called Celtic Daily Prayer for some daily reflections on Scripture. The last two days have spoken to our spiritual journeying, pilgrimage. I share the following two quotes with you from July 4 & 5:

“...the nature of pilgrimage—the precise directions to somewhere are often awkward to find: and you’re not quite sure why you came or what it was you’re looking for. If you find it, or it finds you, words cannot easily convey what has happened but it becomes part of the journey that continues.” (from Hill Climbing for Beginners) and

“When you continue your journey there may be much mist and cloud...This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right and when ye turn to the left. Always go forward along the path of obedience as far as you know it until I intervene, even if it seems to be leading you where you fear I could never mean you to go.” (from Hind’s Feet on High Places )

On our spiritual journeys we often find ourselves in the mist, in a place we never expected to go, or encountering the oddest sort of guides along the way. When I was on sabbatical in 2000, I went on a walk (we’d call it a hike) with a friend of mine into the Welsh hills. Jane was confident she knew where she was going. She’d walked here before. But in search of a lake that she was sure existed over the next ridge, we got lost. The path was gone, the gorse was thick. It was July and there were no trees in that part of the park. We could see across the valley to the next ridge, where a path clearly ran the length of the ridge, back in the direction we wanted to go—but no visible way for us to get there.

As we were wondering whether or not to backtrack down our ridge the way we came, we discovered that there was a small outcropping of rock just to the left of us ‐‐for out poked the heads of three sheep. My friend Jane, being the good Celtic woman she was, did not hesitate a moment in addressing our potential guides. “Ladies” she said, “We seem to have lost our way. Can you offer a bit of help?” After a tilt of the head and a look from the doleful eyes of the leader, the three sheep went off in a direction away from the way we came. We followed and rounded the gorse‐covered outcropping. Almost immediately on the other side of the outcropping, the ridge we were on angled in a gentle “V” to meet the ridge across the way. There just happened to be a path across the connecting slope which joined the path on which we needed to be!

May your journeys this summer, both temporal and spiritual, be blessed with surprises along the way and God’s good guides to lead you.

June 18, 2009

The Season of Pentecost is known as the Season of the Church. Our mission as the Body of Christ, represented by the Church, is to reconcile the world to Christ. Our missionary work begins at home, that is, addressing the people to whom we are called to reconciliation. I share with you the following quotes taken from the writings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers of the early centuries of Christianity.

Abba Pastor said: “We must breathe humility and the fear of God just as ceaselessly as we inhale or exhale.”

There was a certain Elder who, if anyone maligned him, would go in person and offer him gifts, if he lived nearby. And if he lived at a distance he would send presents by the hand of another.

Abba Agatho used to say: “If you are able to revive the dead, but not be willing to be reconciled to your neighbor—it is better to leave the dead in the grave.”

One of the Elders was asked: “What is humility?” He answered: “If you forgive a brother who has injured you before he himself asks pardon.” May God grant us the grace to recognize with whom we are called this day to reconcile and may God give us the humility and courage to do so.

March 5, 2009

The following were two reflections, one secular, one scriptural, that I presented to an ecumenical group of which I am a part. We have just discovered that one of our members has ovarian cancer and we decided to forgo our usual discussion and talk about our thoughts, feelings, questions, rage a little bit together in anger and denial, and then talk about what it is God calls us to when faced with life’s difficult times. I hope it is helpful as you journey through Lent to Holy Week and reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ suffering, death, and Resurrection.

From Learning to Fall by Philip Simmons (Philip Simmons was a 25 yr old journalist who was diagnosed with Lou Gehrigs disease in the 1990’s. He was married with two small children. He managed to live for seven more yrs, able to do more than anyone thought he would, though he did have to cope with loss of what he could do…and made the most of what he continued to be able to do…during that time he wrote this book. The following is a quote from the next to last chapter:

“I want to think about those moments when we stand at the edge, when we feel the presence of what has gone before, when we sense the onrushing promise—or threat—of things to come…but we all stand at the edge. The present moment is itself an edge, this evanescent sliver of time between past and future. We’re called away from it continually by our earthly pleasures and concerns. Even now you may be thinking it’s time for another cup of coffee and one of those blueberry muffins. Seems it’s always time to be doing something other than what we are doing at the moment. While reading in your chair, you find yourself thinking about last night’s argument with your spouse; you’re thinking it’s time to rake leaves, check your email, get some sleep, get to work, pick up the kids, feed the boa constrictor, water the chickens, exercise the gerbils.

The present moment, like the spotted owl or the sea turtle, has become an endangered species. Yet more and more I find that dwelling in the present moment, in the face of everything that would call us out of it, is our highest discipline. More boldly, I would say that our very ‘presentness’ is our salvation; the present moment, entered into fully, is our gateway to eternal life.” (From pp. 144‐145)

From Luke 12:22‐31 (Jesus) said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil not spin; yet, I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed as one of these! But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given unto you as well.”

January 16, 2009

In this time of extreme cold I wish you enough (see below) heat. I was reminded by this reading of the time I spent in Jan. of 1972 in North Dakota on a reservation. Many people were living in ‐40 degree weather in tar paper shacks.

Recently I overheard a mother & daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged & the mother said, 'I love you, & I wish you enough.'

The daughter replied, 'Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom.' They kissed & the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted & needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy, but she welcomed me in by asking, 'Did you ever say good‐bye to someone knowing it would be forever?'

'Yes, I have,' I replied. 'Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good‐bye?'.

'I am old, & she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead & the reality is ‐ the next trip back will be for my funeral,' she said.

'When you were saying good‐bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?'

She began to smile. 'That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.' She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, & she smiled even more. 'When we said, 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.' Then turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive & everlasting. I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good‐bye.

She then began to cry and walked away.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them; but then an entire life to forget them.

December 19, 2008

I received this from a friend of mine. Again, in this time when the dirt and grime of everyday cares collects on the bottom of our feet and elsewhere, stories like these are refreshing:

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket.

Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway, they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town.

No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whoever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.

Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive‐in t hat had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby‐sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby‐sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money‐‐ fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys’ pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2‐10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell‐O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long‐ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....

THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer: 1. "Yes!" 2. "Not yet." 3. "I have something better in mind."

God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.

God Bless you.