I can think of a few times in my life when I felt gratitude
so deeply that all of my other emotional responses to life failed to distract
me. The day I held Kaela for the first time; it was the middle of the night, in
what seemed like a vacant hospital. I was ushered out of surgery with my
healthy daughter, while Leann was being cared for by able doctors. It was just
me and my daughter; meeting each other’s eyes for the first time. We would
start the journey of learning to care for one another. Step one was here – just
hold her, keep her warm, make her feel the promise of enduring love. Then again
watching Emily dance to the song, “I Can Only Imagine,” on Easter Sunday. She
smiled so brightly when she notice the tears in my eyes while she danced a
Polynesian interpretation that she learned from the Hingano family and Dance
for Christ. I was shocked that such beauty and elegance existed so close to me,
so huggable; delicate yet powerful, so filled with hope and wonder. These
moments happen to us, I hope you can recall a few in your life also. I have a
name for them – The Category 5 Gratitude Storm.
Sometimes though, the gratitude storm sneaks up on me like a
rising tide. It’s not just one thing. The tide rises when each of the acts of
grace and mercy finds its way into my life and my awareness. Suddenly I’m
swimming in gratitude and the emotional coatings of anxiety, fear, uncertainty,
& dred are rinsed off of me; a dissipating film floating on the surface of
an ocean of thanksgiving. That is what is happening to me now.
The bishop gave me an exciting new charge to keep. The
United Methodist Church of Merced was in need of a new pastor. At the same
time, I was in need of a new place to call home both spiritually and physically.
I feel like home is just what I have found. The church is filled with ambitious
and insightful leaders. We have chosen to be a place of full inclusion – a
reconciling congregation that doesn’t just welcome all varieties of people, but
also cherishes them just the way they are. This means that we stand against
discrimination that occurs both inside the church and out – injustices that are
based on race, ability, sexual orientation, economic circumstances, or even the
wrongs of the past. Someone mentioned even before I arrived that the identity
of “reconciling” was outlawed by denominational judicial hearing; no doubt,
hoping I was here to fix the problem. I joyfully responded that I don’t believe
the bishop put me here to fix this church. I am here to support this church and
I am excited to be part of this reconciling congregation. The tide of gratitude would rise as I opened
my heart, my ministry, and my life to this wonderful congregation.
I wrote earlier about healing in a pool of wisdom, which is
to this day a source of great joy. Finding a place in the centering prayer
community has been a place of spiritual growth for me. So many times, the
pastor thinks that they are in place to be the teacher, to be the scholar, or
to be the shepherd of the flock. I know that I am here to learn every bit as
much as I am here to share the experiences and hope that I have found on my
path. I have found a community of people that pray by letting go, they pray
with their intention to be available for God, and they pray with their consent
to allow God some space in their being, their consciousness, and their lives.
Taking time for this kind of prayer is life changing. The community that is
already engaged here is deeply spiritual and grounded; a foundation that anchors
the various churches and the community in which they serve. I feel my
foundation firming too. The tide of gratitude certainly rises again as these
connections are made and appreciated.
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Only one month after my arrival in this new place an
anniversary crossed my path. On August 4th, I celebrated the gift of
eleven years in sobriety. It is probably impossible to describe how deeply this
affects me and the people that I love. The lives affected by addiction are
spiraling into destruction and out of control – every day seems to contain the
potential for more grief, more loss, and unimaginable dred. Recovery is often
illusive and frequently sabotaged by the powers of unwillingness, hopelessness,
and fear. Yet when recovery happens, it’s like opening the door to a brand new
world – opportunities that had no chance at existing in the old world sprout
like wild flowers in the new world. Here are some of the flowers that I picked
in the last eleven years; finishing a bachelor’s degree, learning to preach as
a lay person, coaching my daughter’s
softball team, celebrating a 25th wedding anniversary, experiencing
several walks to Emmaus, entering ordination candidacy, learning to grow
through mentorship, graduating seminary, serving as pastor, seeing my children
graduate with honors, having a relationship with the children that I have truly
nurtured, breaking through the walls of depression, and reaching a healthy weight. Most or all of
this would not be possible in the old world and that was just naming a few. The
tide of gratitude is rising quickly now; especially as I realize the powerful
nature of grace in these gifts.
Finally, acceptance has put me over the top. One of the most
basic needs in each and every one of us is the need to belong. The people that
I have met in the community of Merced have tended so masterfully to this need
in the lives of Emily and me. I often leave church with more food than I came
with; fresh produce from a man’s garden, sweet corn purchased with me in mind
at a local produce stand, delicious pies and cakes baked just because. I have
been invited into homes and introduced to leaders in business communities,
health care communities, and faith communities. I have seen my daughter
welcomed in friendships, on sports teams, and to the most amazing school that I
have ever seen. I couldn’t feel neglected or unsupported in my wildest dreams.
Even my car was mysteriously and anonymously cared for by an act of grace that
brings tears to my eyes. In the homes, nursing facilities, and adult living
environments, I am greeted with open arms. In the breakfast at dawn club (men’s
bible study), there is always a plate for me. When your heart is burdened with
circumstances that cause us worry and grief, you rely on me for open ears and
relational prayer. I don’t just feel welcome. I feel wanted and I feel needed.
The tide of gratitude is in and it is overwhelming.
As if there needed to be more, the tide keeps on rolling.
Each week we are able to gather for worship and communion. Some have noticed
the joy on my face as I serve the bread of connection, the bread of renewal,
and the bread of life to each of you. There is no greater joy. But I have to
tell you that when you respond back to me after receiving the sacrament with
words like; “praise God, God bless you, my baptism matters, YOU are beloved,”
or even with a twinkling in your eye, something changes in me. I feel a charge
of energy. I just want to dance. You really make a difference.
That’s a gratitude storm. When you’re hit by one, little
else matters – problems seem petty. “Thank You,” isn’t enough. It’s hard to
know what to do next; maybe just dance.
Enjoy God,
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