Angels, cakes and divine presence

Rev. Lynn Longfield, a friend I look up to, accepted to preach during the ordination service. When I was working at the Presbytery, Lynn was the Presbyter, in other words the Pastor of the Pastors.

Lynn preached on Elijah’s journey, supported by God’s angels through discouragement and despair (1 Kings 19). This is one of my favorite biblical tests. 

An angel supports Elijah with fresh water and cakes baked on hot stones. Eventually, God comes close to Elijah, as a “gentle whisper” or “a still small  voice” (depending on the translations) so they can talk.

The paradox, said Lynn, is that “when God speaks to us in the silence of our own hearts, in that still voice of mysterious wonder, there comes also a deeper revelation that we are not alone, and, in fact, never have been."

The important is to listen. Lynn mentioned that she was given a plaque that read “silence and listen have the same letters. Coincidence?”

God walks by our side in many ways, concluded Lynn. Sometimes, God sends us angels that provide us with hot cakes and fresh water. The community around us is also the witness of God’s love.

It was never truer as on my ordination day. 

Ordained !

Finally, a few years after starting to study theology (this was in…. 1996 at the Institut Protestant de Theologie, in Paris) the day of the ordination arrived.

Of course,  since then I had moved in a new country, switched languages, went from French Reformed Church to PC(USA), went through the Dubuque (Iowa) seminary. I also married, moved on the West Coast of the USA and discovered the world and culture of Native Americans.

I had been “certified ready to be ordained” for the past three years, which means that I had also passed the ordination exams and did the internships in church and hospital, wrote my statement of faith – in other words, I was ready.

But I still had one condition to fill : I needed a call. When the Commission on Ministry accepted to consider my work as “Director of Spiritual Formation” as a validated ministry, the path to ordination was eventually opened.

So I defended my statement of faith in front of the Presbytery. I was apprehensive but it went very well, in a friendly atmosphere.

On November 30^th, I was surrounded by my family and my friends when I became a “Minister of word and sacrament” also called “Teaching Elder”, as pastors were called in the 16^th century, an expression recently brought back to life in our denomination.

My brother Frederic came all the way from France and read a psalm in French during the service, along with Zohndra, one of the endearing teenagers of the church. 

My uncle Jean-Loup, his wife Diane and my cousins from Seattle were also there. Danielle’s little boys (3 and 6 year old) under their father Imad’s supervision, were really good! I entrusted Shawn with my camera and she was diligent, taking many pictures that remain great memories of an event that will remain an important step of my life.

The ordination takes place when the Moderator of the Presbytery, that would be Rev. Julie Johnson here, lays her hand on the head of the ordinand, at the conclusion of a prayer. Julie invited those already ordained (pastors and Elders) to come, join the prayer and also lay their hands on me, or the person next to them if they are out of reach. She also invited everyone involved in my journey to join the group. Almost the whole assembly gathered around us.

An image and emotion I will not forget. 

Good Bye Tashina

This was completely unexpected. We thought she would live at least 15 years. When we noticed that Tashina, our 11-year old pup, was a bit slow to climb the stairs and was less upbeat than usual, we thought it might be arthritis. 

But the vet diagnosed a big cancerous tumor in her stomach. We were crushed.

Tashina lived a few more comfortable days, thanks to a pain-killer. I cooked some tasty, easy to digest, meals for my girl who still had some appetite. Then we said farewell to our companion of so many days as she was getting close to her end.

It happened on the Christmas week.

God Made the earth, the sky and the water, the moon and the sun, says a Native American saying. He made man and bird and beast.

But He didn't make the dog. He already had one.

Galloping fall season: looking at it from the end up

So many events and emotions took place those last weeks. 2014 is ending and our neighbors fireworks can already be heard in the night, which brings intense joys to Sitka, our weird dog who panics when I sneeze but loves to run after explosive sounds in the dark…

To share the main events of the season, I will go from the most recent and will go back in time.

So long, 2014…. So many memorable events happened during this year. Including : (see above) 

SShhh, it is a surprise!

Last Saturday, we furtively left at dawn. Before dawn actually. We got up at 4:00 AM, which is quite an achievement when you are not a morning person. (I am not a morning person). We left quickly for Seattle airport. Our flight was at 7:00. 

I thought I would sleep during the flight but I remained 45 minutes in torpor. We landed at Spokane and from there drove. Irvin had mentioned our arrival on his facebook page then quickly deleted the post. We could have been noticed by the wrong person.

We arrived in Kamiah, Idaho, a little town on the Nez Perce reservation where we caught up with our coconspirators. The secret had been well kept.

And a little later, Irvin’s older sister, Chris, came in. She thought she was going to celebrate her 60^th birthday with her family and friends living in the area. She discovered that her brothers from Arizona, from Kentucky, and us – from Washington state – had come to party with her, along with beloved cousins.

Chris can't believe her eyes! 

Chris and Fred, the brother who lives in Kentucky

She had not suspected anything and overwhelmed with joy and emotion, she kept repeating that she did not want any presents, that her family was her gifts.

Still, there were presents. Her siblings all pinched in to offer her a Pendleton blanket, a Native tradition. They picked up the one called “dancing baskets”, a reminder of the Pima heritage of their family. They wrapped Chris in the blanket as it is customary to do.

There were lots of joy and fun to share – which made it really worth it to wake up before the sun rose.

From left to right : Luther (Buzz) and Ron, from Arizona, Grace (who had the initial idea) Irvin, Chris and Fred. Kendrick, the youngest brother, could not make it from Arizona. John and Randy passed away. 

Creativity and generosity : Vacation Bible School 2014

Our Church had its VBS last week. We have been using the “Group” curriculum, which works well with our hyperactive kids. And since others churches also use it but not the same week, decorations and items have been generously shared from churches to churches. This generosity also included the participation of three ladies who had done VBS in their church the month before and came to help us with their experience during the whole week.

Children are organized in crews of 4 or 5, led by a volunteer, then go from stations to stations. There is the biblical station where the story is interpreted “live” by volunteers….

"Saul", in a red robe, becomes a Christian.

The Samaritan woman, next to the well

Outdoor games, led by teenagers that were participants in the previous year….

"Even when I am different or alone.... Jesus loves me!"

The “imagination” station, with art and craft ; and a video time ; snacks were prepared and shared, following the theme of the day….

"we are all different and unique" - translated into frosted cookies

Songs and a message from the Pastor start and conclude the day – Irvin really got into the spirit so he could share best and be heard!

"We are all one of a kind" said Irvin

Teaching the movements that come with the songs

Then there was a meal – not included in the curriculum – before sending the children home, or driving those whose parents did not have a car with the church’s van. This meal means a lot. Our volunteers in the kitchen did a wonderful job!

Those were intense hours, with laughters, prayers and music. And of course, it also included children who fought or got discouraged, volunteers stressed out, misunderstandings.

In other words, the unavoidable shifting that comes within a community that makes every effort to create a space inhabited by the Spirit, touched by God – and make it happen. 

Sitka = 2 ; Strawberries =0

So far, the predator had the upper hand. Or the upper paw. In any case, some strawberries vanished recently, with Sitka’s signature on it: the stalks cut neatly where the fruit should be. She grabs the strawberry and just pulls on it. 

She did it in one fluid movement right under my eyes one morning and I did not even have time to say the magic word: NO! This was one strawberry I had my eyes on, almost ready to eat. Sitka looked very pleased with herself and I wonder for a moment: this could have been the work of a slug or a bird. Maybe I’d rather have my faithful puppy enjoy it? Or not.

In another corner of the yard where I don’t go very often, I discovered that same day that blueberries bushes planted there two years ago have been fruitful. The blueberries are pink and delicious. They are called “Pink lemonade blueberries”. Strangely enough, Sitka never took notice. Maybe she does not like pink?

After the benediction

Last Sunday, I had the pleasure to lead worship at Church of the Indian Fellowship. Irvin was at Fort Worth, Texas where he participated at the multicultural conference of the PC(USA). I get to fill in for him when he is out of town.

Before the benediction, I often quote those verses from Philippians 4:5-8

 “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Then the benediction follows, that I keep simple.

“May the blessing of God almighty,

The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit

Remain with you always.”

Irvin likes the benediction from Numbers (6 :25)

“The LORD bless you
       and keep you;

the LORD make his face shine upon you
       and be gracious to you;

the LORD turn his face toward you
       and give you peace."

Sometimes, he adds this Cherokee blessing :

“May the warm wind of heaven

blow softly upon you

And the creator make sunrise in your heart.”

After the benediction, I walk briskly toward the door of the church, while the assemble sings the responsive hymn.

The first time I saw a pastor do that was soon after I made it to the US. I remember my confusion when I saw the pastor leave the pulpit so fast. “Where is he going ? Leaving already?”

I found out soon that most pastors do it. They are not leaving, obviously – they go to the door to make sure they can shake the hand of each parishioner before they leave or go get a cup of coffee in the Fellowship hall.

“It is an intensely concentrated time of interaction” writes Martin Copenhaver[1], describing how his parishioners update him on their life in that short face-to-face moment, or react to his sermon, appreciative or perplex, rarely sarcastic.

He remembers though that soon after his ordination, a man told him with a smile “You know, Martin, every sermon seems better than the next one”. Martin comments “He was in his car and driving away before I realized what he had said”.

When in France, I would stay around the pulpit and gather my papers after leading worship. Some people would come up to me and we would talk. Others would chat with each other and disperse. It felt more spontaneous.

On the other hand, I appreciate having this opportunity to greet each person who came to join us, whether I have known them for years or am just meeting them. They have listened to me for more than an hour. It is my time to hear them – and I enjoy this opportunity.

Friends from French churches: so now you know. If the American pastor quickly moves to the door at the end of worship, he is not fleeing away or rushing to the bathroom. No, he just wants to make sure he will be able to shake your hand.

You heard his benediction. Now is his time to receive yours.

Irvin at the door of Church of the Indian Fellowship

---

[1] This Odd and Wondrous Calling, Eedermans Publishing, Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge UK, 2009, p.11

Beyond the clouds

Whether it is a shower of meteorites, an eclipse of the moon or some UFO, I have to use my imagination most of the times here to see anything beyond the clouds. Our Pacific Northwest is famous for its rains but New York actually receives more precipitation. However, we are the champions of grey sky throughout the year.

Still, I have been looking for clouds in the sky for the past few weeks. It is hotter than usual and wherever I go, I make sure I have an army of fans all around me to cool me off.

There are a few advantages to cloud-free sky. In July, the full moon was bigger than ever when raising behind Mount Rainier. It was one of those supermoons, closest to the earth on its ellipse.

On Thursday morning, I dropped Irvin off at the airport at 5 AM. He was on his way to Texas where a multicultural conference was waiting for him. I am not a morning person but the sunrise lights rewarded me on the way back home. I took this picture around 6 AM, near our home.

Yes, I could get used of the lack of clouds in the sky… 

My Left Arm is a Ninja

“You are lucky! Your compressive sleeve has been delivered!” Bridget, my therapist, had a bright smile on Monday, when she made that statement. I would have not minded some delay. It is hot this week. 

I did not even know there were such things as compressive sleeves before Bridget mentioned them. Their purpose is to avoid fluid buildup when lymphatic nods don’t work as they should. Half of those nods were taken away last year to check if cancer had reach them (it did not). The other ones were damaged by radiotherapy.

Bridget showed me some sleeves, which were thick and beige. I figured I would look as if I had an artificial limb. I browsed the internet and saw sleek compressive sleeves in bold colors, some with fancy patterns.

I start seeing the sleeve in a perspective a la Gilda, as a sexy accessory. I picked a black one rather than beige.

Annoyingly, since I researched those on internet, I cannot go on Facebook now without having ads for thick stockings on every pages…

So the fact is, the sleeve does compress. I must also wear a gauntlet which prevents my hand to swell while the sleeve is on. Putting the whole thing on is quite a process. 

When I take if off at the end of the day, I experience relief… and there are little elastic noises.  It does not look like Gilda taking off her silky gloves AT ALL. The truth is, my arm looks like a Ninja all by itself.

Once up on the arm, I can forget I wear it. Unless it gets really hot… if it does, then sorry Ninja sleeve, you will stay in my drawer!  

Alison and the Assessment Test

I met Alison during my Clinical Pastoral Education. We have stayed in touch now and again, like you do when you live in different neighborhoods and run busy lives - yet have been through life transforming experiences together.

Recently, Alison let me know about postings for a chaplaincy position in a nearby hospital. She was going to apply – was I interested too? I appreciated her generous spirit; after all if I applied, we would become competitors. But I declined – God led me to another path and I now work in this awesome church, UPPC.

Alison contacted me again after she applied. She was troubled.

“They sent me this link and that led me to a test, she said. There were at least 50 questions and they were all the kind of problems we had to solve at school. You know, Jane lives in A, and Bob lives in B, and John lives near Jane, what is the distance between Bob and John… Rhetorical questions of logic. I was bewildered. None of the questions were related to chaplaincy or even human relations!”

Alison was concerned. She was so taken aback by the test (which took her about an hour to take) that she was pretty sure she had not done very well. She wondered how it would impact her application.

I tried to reassure her. Her application was strong, with very positive evaluations and her previous supervisor, a noted senior chaplain, as a reference.

A few days ago, late in the evening, I heard from Alison again. I could tell she had been crying. “I just received an email from Human Relations, she said. My application has been rejected. And they asked me not to apply again for any chaplain position for a year.”

I could not believe it. I was so stunned that I thought she had misunderstood. I had her read me the email she received. An unsuccessful application is always a possibility, but a one-year ban? What was that? Did a chaplain even look at her application? Who decided that her resume and experience were so unworthy that she was vetoed out for a year?

Alison told me she felt humiliated when she read this email. She did not say anything to her husband, who was in the same room and looking at his own lap top. She went upstairs and cried. “Worthless”. “That’s the word that kept flashing through my mind, she said. That I was worthless. That they had to get rid of me for a year because I was so bad.” 

She breathed in silence for a while. “Then I called you.” I was feeling bad for her. My guess is that I would have received the same email if I had applied myself.  “You must feel awful, I said. I feel awful too actually – and mad ! Where does this come from? I never heard of such a reply to an application.”

“I guess I need to know, said Alison with a sigh. Of course, I know in my mind that I am not worthless. I am not going to let anyone define me – especially anyone who does not even know me. I just don’t understand. Why would you want to humiliate applicants? I wonder if this comes from this test…"

Well, it came from this test, Alison found out. Human Resources had created this “assessment tool” a month before. About half of the chaplains who applied for the position failed the test – probably due to the same state of disbelief she was in. Their applications were then simply discarded and never sent to the manager of the hiring department. A one-year prohibition to apply was emailed to them.

“I heard there are talks in process to review ‘this assessment tool’ for the Pastoral care department, she said. Because it does not assess anything chaplains need… But that will be too late for me.”

Fortunately, this was not the end of the story. Another position opened up, and Alison was offered the possibility to appeal the ban. The appeal was received, and Alison has applied for the new position. Her new application is being processed. She allowed me to share her story – as long as I did not use her real name.

I thought I had seen lots of bizarre situations through my chaplaincy education. This one is definitely off the chart. 

A strawberry in peril

Fruits are growing in short number in the yard. However, a few strawberries have been showing up, with the support of abundant sunshine and patient streaming of water. 

But a predator is roaming, fast and experienced. She will not hesitate to snatch away an unripe fruit – even if it is still a flower. 

I am watching but the animal is sneaky. Who will have the last word – and the strawberry? Suspense is on… 

Leaving the Kingdom

 "We each are the citizens of two kingdoms, the kingdom of the well and that of the sick” wrote Susan Sontag. Arthur Franck, who quoted her in his book “The Wounded Storyteller”[1] mentioned another kingdom, a grey area, between those two, where people in remission belong, a place where “the foreground and background of sickness and health constantly shade into each other.”

Remission is my kingdom. I cannot state that I am ‘healed’ although the last PT scan showed that cancer left my body. Now, it is like bad cells have the key to get in, and they could do so anytime. “From now on, wherever you go, you will need an oncologist”, my doctor told me. “For the rest of your life”.

And I am still taking medication. As my cancer was hormone sensitive, I am taking pills that lower my estrogen level as much as possible. Months after the end of chemo and radiations, small side-effects have shown up. My hair has been growing back but my eyebrows almost vanished. This led me to ponder, in front of a mirror, on the appearance of aliens in SF movies. Have you noticed they have no eyebrows?

My hands have neuropathy – a tingling sensation in my fingers that comes and go. My left arm has swollen because of the missing lymphatic nods. “You will need to wear a compressive sleeve now”, told me the lymph-expert rehab therapist last week. I was a bit alarmed. “All the time?” Her answer was not that comforting.  “No, only when you are awake.”

Being in remission does not mean you are healthy. However, this ambivalent territory looks like it. I am aware I am now where I was hoping I would be a year ago: globally ok and back in an appeased life.

Belonging to the kingdom of the sick makes you grateful once and for all that you don’t live there anymore.

---

[1] Arthur W. Frank, the Wounded Storyteller, Body Illness and Ethics, the University of Chicago Press: Chicago and London, 1995, 

Growing back: an adventure in the making

About that time last year, I was done with chemo. I remember the day I first saw it in the mirror: the start of the beginning of a shadow on my nude crane. My hair was growing back. As it often happens post-chemo, this new hair is very curly. I have mixed feelings.

On one hand, I am happy to have hair back. On the other, my hair never looked that way. It used to frame my face in what I considered a somewhat flattering way, hiding me from the world.

This new hair is dramatically different plus it grows upward instead of going down toward my shoulders. I am living a new capillary experience. I only hope gravity will do its thing before I look like this… 

Aloo Gobi à la Beckham

Always on the forefront when it comes to new movies and trends, I just watched the comedy “Bend It Like Beckham” (2002) which I found enchanting. 

The DVD also provides some bonuses. One of them shows the director of the movie, Gurinder Chadha, cooking a traditional Indian recipe, Aloo Gobi, mentioned in the movie.

Aloo Gobi is a potatoes and cauliflower curry stew. The ingredients include turmeric, ginger, tomato and cauliflower, who all happen to be also powerful anti-cancer food.

Here is the recipe:

¼ cup olive oil

1 onion peeled and chopped

1 to 2 teaspoons cumin seeds, to taste

1  bunch of cilantro

2 teaspoons of turmeric

1 teaspoon salt

One green chili, cut up or 1 teaspoon of chili powder

1 can (14 oz.) of diced tomatoes, undrained

Fresh ginger, peeled and grated

Fresh garlic, chopped

1 cauliflower (or half of a big one) cut up into florets

3 large potatoes, peeled and diced

2 teaspoon of garam masala

Heat oil in the pan and fry up the onion until translucent with the cumin seeds.

Finely chop the stalks of cilantro and add to the onion with turmeric and salt.
Stir for a while, then add chili and the can of tomatoes. Stir.

Add ginger and garlic.

Add diced potatoes and florets of cauliflower, as well as a few tablespoon of water.

Cover and simmer for 20 minutes of until potatoes are tender.

Add garam masala and cilantro leaves. Turn off the heat and let stand for some time before eating.

You can also watch Gurinder Chadha cooking, with her own comments, here.

If you enjoy food from India, this is a divine dish! 

Two Christmas in December with Juliette

Working in a church, while being an active member (and the pastor’s wife) in another congregation, means having a lot on your plate, particularly before Christmas. I went from fry bread and craft sales at Indian fellowship to annual events at UPPC. I was physically exhausted but was rewarded by the encounters and discoveries that took place during those very full days.

On December 14^th, I was part of the Community Christmas day at UPPC. On that Saturday, many families in need were welcomed at church. Children had workshop to craft presents for their parents while parents would pick up gifts for them as well as festive food. I was among those that would escort the parents and we had great time of conversation and sharing. On the picture below, I am the one wearing the antlers.

Meanwhile, at church of the Indian fellowship, fry bread and craft sale was going on. Juliette, a French friend, was learning to deal with the dough and hot oil under Irvin’s direction. 

I had never met Juliette before : she is the grand-daughter of Marcel who used to work at my very first home church, le Centre Protestant de Rencontre. 

When I used to worship there, Juliette was probably 4 or 5. She is now a Medical student who just got done with her 6^th year. She travelled through the US for two months. We connected as if we had always known each other during this epic weekend.

We were both tired with sore feet when we caught up with each other. A Presbyterian Christmas the American way, you cannot make that up. 

I am prejudiced

A few years ago, Irvin and I were in Los Angeles for a conference and we visited the Museum of Tolerance – a great place to learn and reflect. 

As you start the visit, you are faced with two doors. You get to choose the one you will get through: one invites you to come in if you are a prejudiced person. The other one is for you if you are not.

Of course, the “unprejudiced door” does not open – everyone should go through the other one. We all deal with those spontaneous thoughts and biased judgments one way or another.

This memory came back to my mind last month, when I started working at University Place Presbyterian Church (UPPC) which is a strong, wealthy church, in a residential neighborhood. Over 1,400 members - many of them middle or upper class.

How does it feel to belong to a self-reliant congregation? Are you tempted to stay among your friends and not reach out to the world of needs and scarcity that lies outside?

Well, the answer is no. Members at UPPC are involved and active in many fields, helping people both locally and abroad. 

During the month of December, where I started to work there, I was surprised. Surprised? I guess I was holding some prejudice against the ability of a wealthy church to reach out. 

It did not last long – I went fast from ‘surprised’ to ‘impressed’. And since my job is to help them do just that, I should have an amazing time at UPPC. 

First blank page

“Tomorrow is the first blank page of the year of a 365 page book. Write a good one!”

This was one of the quotes I enjoyed on facebook  as the year 2013 was coming to an end. The idea of the new year as a blank canvas is inspiring…

2013 was certainly a busy, emotion-filled year. Now to new experiences! Good madness, kisses and creation, suggests author Neil Gaiman. Looks like a plan. I would add a good dose of serenity... Happy New Year!

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as you only can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”  (Neil Gaiman)