Hi! Remember me?

Goodness, I've been delinquent here this week! It's not been for lack of something to blog about, I assure you. Quite the opposite-- there's been lots happening here, so that sitting down in front of the computer to compose a blog entry has been something that moved down the priority list.

A short summary:

• Soccer Camp. The Boy signed up for a day camp through our town's soccer league. For 3-4 hours every afternoon this week the kids ran, dribbled, passed and kicked their way around the field, under the auspices of coaches from the Chicago Fire. He had loads of fun with it, and we could actually see some of his skills improving as a result of all the practice.

• Yard Work. A goodly amount of weeding and maintenance happened this week, mostly at the hands of The Teenager (who has been diligently working to pay off some accumulated family debt). She's made a great start-- the house actually looks like someone might live here, which is an improvement over its appearance a few weeks ago.

• Sewing. I've been catching up on a serious backlog of "Sure, I can do that!" projects so piled up that my sewing table was well-nigh invisible under the mountain of assemble this and alter that laying forlornly upon it. I'm not through yet, but I have begun to see wood in spots, below the faux suede, denim and broadcloth. It's consumed enough time that it was almost beginning to feel like work! However, The Boy now has new shorts from old pants, several old friends have new clergy shirts, and a personal project or two that needed to get done pronto, did.

• Planning and scheming. Carol (the priest-in-charge at St. A's, and my new boss) and I spent an overnight at a cottage she's caretaking for a friend. It's on a little lake, and we had a ball swimming and kayaking around and about; but we also spent some serious time in bringing me up to speed with the congregation's mission/vision work, and fleshing out things for the upcoming year. Christian Ed, a new healing service, and an upcoming worship music seminar we're hosting (likely the first part of October), all got their share of attention. Oh, yeah-- and a possible website for the parish!
  

• Vacation! Last, but far from least, we are headed out of town in a few days, for the first real vacation our family has had since before I started seminary. We're gallivanting west: stopping to see family in Minnesota and South Dakota, and then on out to visit Rev. Ref. and The Lovely Wife in Big Sky Country! I purely can't wait; but the preparation for an extended absence has naturally resulted in a list-making and chore-doing frenzy, as we try to get everything ready.

Now you're all caught up-- and I need a nap!

In lieu of actual thought...

You scored as Herald Model. Your model of the church is Herald. The organization of the church is much less important than the urgency of announcing the Good News of salvation to all the world. The Holy Spirit moves the individual to belief in Jesus Christ and to do the will of the Father by sharing this message with others. As with other models, the narrowness of this model could be supplemented by drawing on other models.

Herald Model		84%
Sacrament model		84%
Servant Model		67%
Mystical Communion Model		67%
Institutional Model		28%

What is your model of the church? [Dulles]
created with QuizFarm.com

What ho, fair maidens!

This morning our daughter and her best friend (who spent the night here last night) willingly got up well before noon. Actually, it was shortly after 8:00 am (yes, in the morning!) when I heard them rustling around. Of their own volition. Without nagging, prodding, or any additional aid.

Relax-- this is not, as one might logically conclude, a sign of the apocalypse.

Instead, D and BF had an internal motivation for early verticality; by 9:30, they were headed north to the Bristol Renaissance Faire. They've been up there before, with a larger group; but this time the two damsels (age 17 and 18) are making the pilgrimage unescorted.

Of course, they are suitably clad. BF had two period costumes, though only one blouse (designed to be worn under either dress). So while they were showering and coiffing, Morning Mom was whipping up a second blouse. I got it cut out last evening, so today's work was just assembly.

The maidens fair elected not to don their garb here at the house (preferring to make the 2+ hour drive in modern comfort) so I don't have pictures. They have promised faithfully to model upon their return, however; then, with their kind permission, I will augment this post with appropriate images.

RevGals!

One of the joys of blogging, as I mentioned earlier, is the pure pleasure of getting acquainted with folks I'd never meet otherwise. People from a wide range of places-- politically and experientially, as well as geographically.

Still, like anywhere else, we tend to spend more time, and be more attentive to those with whom we have something in common. In my case, that means (among other things) that I've found myself with some "RevGalBlogPals"-- women in various stages of their lives who are living out a call to ordained ministry. We are all (so far as I know) Christian, though we come from a variety of denominational backgrounds; some are married, some single; some have children (ranging from knee-high to nearly grown) while others exercise their "mom genes" outside their immediate household. And I've had great fun laughing and crying and learning with these sisters under the skin, though I've never laid eyes on any of them.

Recently a few of our number came up with the idea to do something official with our shorthand nickname-- and a short time later (the pastors in question being doers, and not hearers only), with a little help from the folks at Cafe Press, the RevGals had thematic merchandise-- just like fancy athletic teams and the like!

Do you suppose this qualifies as... Holy Spirit Wear? Okay, maybe not...

Viva via media!

CENTRIST
Centrists espouse a "middle ground" regarding government control of the economy and personal behavior. Depending on the issue, they sometimes favor government intervention and sometimes support individual freedom of choice. Centrists pride themselves on keeping an open mind, tend to oppose "political extremes," and emphasize what they describe as "practical" solutions to problems.


Your PERSONAL issues Score is 60%.
Your ECONOMIC issues Score is 50%.
(Please note: Scores falling on the Centrist border are counted as Centrist.)

How very Anglican of me...

Tripp gets credit for sharing the link (and is not blamed for the site's not providing an "easy copy" way to blog it).

Yeah. . . what he said. . .

You know, today has been busy. It's a work day for me, at a church with no internet access; and even if I had been able to get online, I likely wouldn't have been there long. There were way too many items on the ecclesial "Honey Do" list.

And now that I'm home, an even longer list here is staring balefully at me as we speak-- so I'm off to the basement to bond with piles of laundry and a backlog of sewing projects.

But even if I were able to take the time, I doubt I'd express my thoughts and opinions about The Recent Unpleasantness in this corner of the blogiverse any better than Rev. Ref. has done.

My friend and my brother, I am grateful for your words. "I thank my God every time I remember you..."

. . . and her, too.

Karen also offers a cogent, thoughtful something to say about the issues that were dragged about here-- quoting the same former neighbor I mentioned earlier.

And then she adds to it, in this addendum.

We've never met in person, she and I; but one of the great joys of blogging has been the opportunity to make friends of this caliber.

Thanks, sis.

Ground rules

My goodness! I woke this morning to find quite a number of comments on a couple of recent postings. And that's all well and good; I'm normally delighted when people come by to play. However, given the tone of some of the discussion, I find I need to reiterate the following:

1. Profanity will not be tolerated. Though I will occasionally fall into vulgar language in my speech (under duress, I assure you!), I have no intention of using it here, nor do I care to read it.
   
2. Name-calling and personal attacks are unacceptable. If you don't like something someone says here, then you may certainly express your disagreement with that statement or opinion; but you must keep the argument focused on the topic at hand, and not devolve into sniping.
3. Civil and respectful discourse is required. Again, if you wish to disagree with something said here, that is your prerogative, and part of my expectation in having a blog open for public comment. However, I expect that all posts, comments and commenters will be treated with courtesy. Among other things, this means that sarcasm will be kept to a minimum and any venting will be suitably and responsibly controlled. We are all of us children of God, created in God's image and due the respect and dignity that implies.
   
4. A link is better than "Copy and Paste." The former may provide useful information; the latter, however germane to the issue it may be, ends up feeling like spam. If you wish to share an online article or other information, I ask that you post the link, rather than the whole dissertation. Similarly, excessive length in a comment is unnecessary; if you have that much to say, post it on your own blog and provide the URL.
   
5. The buck stops here. This is my playground; I get to decide what is acceptable. If for any reason I find that your posting crosses the bounds of appropriate discourse, I will remove it. And if you persist in posting comments that I feel the need to remove, I will block your access to this blog.
   

Now-- let's all play nicely, shall we?

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak

You know, the first comment on a previous post has got me thinking about the issue of silence. When to speak, and when to keep still, is a daily decision we all face. Often (every time I post to this blog, as just one example!) I am given occasion to consider my words carefully: not only deciding what to say, but first whether I should say anything at all. And sometimes silence seems the better choice.

"Like when?" you might respond. Glad you asked. Some of my frequent reasons include:

• Natural inclination. I am, by nature, something of an introvert. I can be quite gregarious at times; just ask my family as they wait patiently to leave coffee hour! But that is a learned behavior, part of social interaction and the way I get along with others. If I have something important on my mind, I am far more likely to keep it to myself, or to discuss it with those few precious souls with whom I have built a trusting, emotionally intimate relationship.

• Discretion. There are situations or confidences which I am aware are, quite frankly, not my place to share; to do so would breach trust that I hold sacred. This was true long before I approached the ordained ministry, and is doubly so now.

• Ignorance/lack of data. I will be the first to admit that I don't know everything; no, nor even something about lots of things. If I am unaware of a situation, or if I do not feel as though I have enough information to have an informed opinion, I will generally try to err on the side of caution and keep my mouth shut. "Better to be silent and be thought a fool," the old advice goes, " than to speak and remove all doubt." I do not always succeed at this goal, but I do try.

The latter is the reason for my silence in the issue referenced in the previously mentioned comment. I had very little knowledge of the adventures in Connecticut before I saw the article in the ENS feed above the news about Leigh; and I have neither connection with nor information about any of the players in the conflict, other than the faith tradition we share.

I do have something to say about the comment itself, though. Not on my own behalf; So far as I'm concerned, it shows only that the anonymous poster knows precisely nothing about me. It is therefore not worthy of further consideration.

But I would suggest, Mr./Ms. Anonymous, that if you have a problem with my bishop, under whose pastoral authority I am wholly content to serve, then you take it up with him. You can contact him here. If you do so, you will find him honorable, straightforward, respectful and responsive-- quite different from the sort of person inclined to post sarcastic venom and hide behind anonymity.

Blueberries and the fashion police

It's blueberry season here in the midwest, and I've spent the morning in some seriously old-fashioned domesticity. We haven't had time to go berry picking, as we've done in previous years; so last week I stopped at one of the myriad stands along the highway and bought a whole mess of blueberries (15 pounds, as I recall).

Some of those berries we've been eating fresh, of course-- on cereal, or in pancakes, or as part of a blueberry cobbler, buckle, crisp or pie. The rest I preserve: they are either frozen for later use, or turned into jam and canned.

Yes, I'm a throwback; I really enjoy doing that sort of thing.

So today has been canning day, and I'm tickled to look over at the row of little jam jars cooling on the counter. But I laughed out loud when I realized, as I walked down the hallway, that the image in the mirror there was rather less inspiring.

It's hot here today-- sweltering in the steam of the kitchen, even with the air conditioning on; so I'm dressed in cutoffs and a t-shirt ("Goat Roast 2003"), barefoot, with my hair tucked up under an old ball cap because it's not long enough to pull back in a ponytail. I'm a sloppy cook, so this vision is overlaid by an ancient, faded red checked apron, asking the vital question: "For this I spent four years in college??"

No makeup, but I did spot a dab of jam on my cheek.

Just as well no one is home today; I'd probably scare them away.

But hey-- the jam looks good!

Congratulations and rejoicing!

EAU CLAIRE: Bishop installs diocese's first woman priest-in-charge

[Source: Diocese of Eau Claire, Wisconsin] History in the making was witnessed by family, friends and clergy from near and far who attended the institution of the priest-in-charge of St. John's, Sparta, the evening of April 14. The Rev. Leigh Farley Waggoner became the first woman priest in charge of a congregation in the Diocese of Eau Claire.

Leigh was a Seabury classmate and a joy to be around. I couldn't be more tickled for her, and for the congregation of St. John's, Sparta. You'll need to scroll down a bit, but you can read the rest of the article here.

All's quiet on the western front

With a husband and two kids, this is something that is rare indeed. I used to experience this when the kids were in school, when they were small. But then I started work, and after that went back to school myself, so I was also gone when they were out of the house.

For years, whenever I've been home, someone else has also been here. Oh, I can get off by myself for a time, if I take a bath, or go back to our room to take a nap, or trot down to my corner in the basement to sew. People do stick their heads around corners to check on me ("How's it going, babe?"), or to ask a question ("May I go over to Shane's house?" "Can I borrow your shirt?"), but they also generally allow me to have some space. Still, there's always that awareness that someone else is moving around in the house.

Don't get me wrong: this is a good thing. I like being part of my family, connected and accompanied, even as my more introverted soul needs some solo time. And mostly that time in bedroom or basement is sufficient.

In the three years I was in seminary, I got used to a bit more alone time. I had a dorm room on campus into which I could retreat-- for study, or prayer, or simply recharging-- when I was there during the week.

My own room.

Honestly, this was a first. (I went from sharing a room with my sister, to a college roommate, to a husband, without missing a beat). And I liked it. Even when I was missing my family, and stuggling with the growing pains and challenges that seminary entailed, I found some solace in the ability to retreat into that little room.

Well, school is done, and I am home, and loving it-- living with my family full-time; being here and sleeping in my own bed every night; daily interactions with these people who are so integral to my life. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. Already I'm not sure how I stood being away so much the last three years.

At the same time, I have moments where I miss that space. And I didn't realize how much until the family left this morning to spend the weekend visiting Grandma down in southern Indiana. I work weekends now, of course, so I couldn't go.

So I'm alone in the house. All weekend.

I've spent today in ways both commonplace and amazing. In conversation, and in quiet... thinking, and writing, and reading, as well as cleaning and sewing... wandering in my mind, and not going anywhere else.

I will be very, very glad to have the tribe back on Sunday; but this time has been a blessed, grace-filled gift in ways I could not have expected. And I am grateful.

Greek geeks in the blogiverse

One of my extracurricular activities at Seabury was a small (Si, Beth and I were the usual suspects) discussion group that met weekly, to translate (under AKMA's patient and good-natured tutelage) a bit of biblical Greek together. Even in seminary this was considered a bit of an oddity; but we surely had fun. As a matter of fact, that group is the reason this little gem is on my Amazon wish list (a fact that utterly befuddles my sister-- I wish you could have seen the look she gave me when I mentioned it).

In any case, the kind and gentle soul whose smiling, professorial enthusiasm started me on this particular "road less traveled" now has his own blog! Stop by and say hello to Brooke sometime; it'll be a fun conversation-- and likely even in English.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 10A
Isaiah 55:1-5,10-13
Psalm 65 or 65:9-14
Romans 8:9-17
Matthew 13:1-9,18-23

This morning's Gospel is a familiar one-- one of Jesus' parables. Jesus does a lot of storytelling this way, doesn't he? Parables about what the kingdom of God is like, or how God loves us, or how we are to treat one another... he does all sorts of teaching this way.

One thing that is unusual with this one, of course, is that an explanation goes with it. Unlike most parables, for which we are left to interpret and decipher the meaning, this one is clearly spelled out. The disciple is to be the good soil, taking in the word of God, and allowing it to bear fruit within us, to varying degrees.

Sometimes, I've heard those amounts-- the seeds which produce a hundredfold, or sixty, or thirty-- explained as being our responsibility. The argument is that a "good" Christian will bear more fruit. Like, if I pray more, or have a better relationship with God, that will show greater results.

Well... maybe. But then again, that might also seem to presumes that God's gifts are ours to control; and I don't think it works that way. I think it's more like...

Well, it kind of makes me think of a friend of mine. Todd was a classmate at seminary; he's originally from the pacific northwest, and now is the vicar of a couple of congregations in southwest Montana. He really, really loves it out there-- the town, the people, the work... and the mountains. "His" mountains, he'll say, as though he were personally responsible for their upkeep. That was one of the things he missed most, in his three years here in the midwest. Even when he came back to visit in June, he couldn't wait to get home, and away from all the "flat."

In a way, I can't really blame him. I've vacationed out west, and the scenery is indescribably beautiful. The grandeur of the peaks rising out of the land, and the awesome size of it all... it's no wonder to me at all that our ancestors moved to high places to worship.

On the other hand, if you look around where we live here, and all you see is "flat," then I'd suggest you look again.

Go on out to Indiana's National Lakeshore, only a few minutes from here; you can hike trails through the dunes, and see plants that don't grow anywhere else in the world. These are the conditions perfect for them, right here; they wouldn't survive in the mountains.

And the trees... sure, there are lots of trees in those mountains; but they're different. The sycamore, and the sweet gum, and the tulip poplar... those are native to this part of the world. I have a sweet gum tree just outside my front door; I love to go out and rub the leaves, and get the light scent they carry on my hands.

Or drive down the road in the spring and see the dogwood blooming wild, or the lacy pink of the redbud trees...

Oh, and there's a reason they call this region "the breadbasket to the world." Miles of level land means millions of acres of arable farmland, growing corn and wheat and beans, to feed billions of people. The fields have their own beauty, too, as you watch the sunlight play across the shades of green, and watch their growth over time.

No, we do not have the magnificence of the mountains towering above us, here; but there is beauty, nonetheless. It is more subtle, maybe, but surely no less a grand and vital part of God's creation.

People are kind of like that, too. Some seem to be incredibly gifted. The saints through the ages, who set amazing examples for us; or contemporary people like Mother Teresa, or Martin Luther King-- their faith, and their gifts seem to tower over the rest of us, as though they were specially favored by God.

But the person who works honestly and diligently at a job, year after year... or the parents who are raising children to know and love the Lord... or one who can be counted on for prayer, or encouragement, or quiet wisdom... the gifts and talents these people have are no less important, my brothers and sisters, even if they are less noticed, and more subtle. And I believe in the long run they are just as vital to the purposes of God, and the growth of the kingdom, as anything more impressive we hear about.

Yes, we look to the high places to see God; as the psalmist says, we "lift up our eyes to the hills." And that is a great and glorious thing, and as it should be. But at the same time, we also need to try to see God's glory where we are-- to use fully and not be ashamed of our seemingly simpler gifts. We can remember also that the prophet Isaiah notes, "Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And there the glory of the Lord will be revealed..."

Family feast days

One of the things my parents had in common was their birthday. They were born on the same day, in the same year; my father was only about an hour older than my mother. A friend of theirs who was into astrology never got over how totally freaky she thought that was.

Mom always said it felt like Christmas to her, because she got to give presents on that day, as well as receive them. Because we were (and are) a family that fusses over birthdays-- special meals, and cake and ice cream, and Get Out the Good Dishes-- it felt a bit like that to us, too.

That changed somewhat after Mama died, as all things did; but there is still much to celebrate, and memories and joy to share (nowhere do I laugh more than when I'm with my siblings!), and tomorrow we're going to do just that. Today, however, is the actual Feast Day.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Make new friends, and keep the old...

A couple of new names among the blog brothers and sisters, over there...

First, I'd like to direct your attention to classmate (former classmate, I suppose, now that I'm officially alumnified) and friend Laurel, who has recently entered the blogiverse. Strong and feisty, with a great sense of humor-- this is a woman worth listening to, folks. At the very least, I expect it will rarely be dull.

Secondly, Rev. Ref. has found a new friend. Stephanie is a new blogger, and also just beginning the process toward ordination. Check out her first post-- anyone who can't stop singing, belongs on my list.

Welcome!

Adventures in Curacy

The sermon you see below was my official debut-- my first Sunday serving as the official curate (assistant to the pastor, for those who prefer to avoid churchspeak) at St. A's! I will be working there part-time for the next year, and I am purely excited about the position and the possibilities there. St. A's is a smallish congregation-- usually a bit less than 50 souls on a Sunday morning-- but they are lovely, warm, flexible people.

My four regular readers may remember that this was one of the places where I spent my field ed, during seminary; so I already know how much I enjoy working with the priest-in-charge there (Carol is a hoot!). When the vestry approved my contract, the treasurer professed to be nervous about the prospect of the two of us spending more time together. The Boss simply grinned archly and replied, "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Yesterday was my first day of weekday work. We spent most of it laying out some scheduling framework for the year. We did this the old fashioned way-- with paper and pencil. We took all the pages out of one of those big monthly deskpad calendars, laid them across a couple of tables in the parish hall, and then filled things in, making notes as we went. It took a couple of hours, but we made a solid start-- and it was fun!

Yes, you heard me. Organizing. Is. Fun. F-U-N. A good thing, even!

That, and unpacking and arranging my office (formerly an unused classroom devoted to storage of Things Too Good To Throw Away, most of which is now gone) has taken up much of my time the last two days.

But then, there's prepping for next Sunday. The Boss will be out of town, so I will be presiding at a "Deacon's Mass." Geting ready for this has included running the bulletin (the parish secretary is also on vacation), and picking the music... and practicing.

My guitar. Oy.

I have never played the silly thing in public before. NEVER. Not once. And you know, that's been just okay. Really it has. Why I am doing this now, and in front of all those people for pete's sake...

Our regular organist is also out of town (let's everyone abandon the new curate all at once, shall we?!); so, in a weak moment, and with Carol's eager encouragement, I agreed to play one of the praise songs that the sub doesn't know.

What was I thinking?

There's something to pray for, my friends: that I do not screw things up as badly as I think I might, this Sunday.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 9, Year A
Zechariah 9:9-12
Psalm 145:8-14
Romans 7:21-8:6
Matthew 11:25-30

The gospel this morning is one of the more commonly quoted passages in the Bible. "Come to me," Jesus says, "all you who are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest... For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

He makes it sound so easy, doesn’t he? Come, we might think, and all will be sweetness and light, the scent of roses and the tingle of the Spirit at work in our lives. It makes me think of the visions of coming to America that many of the immigrants have had-- dreams of a place where the streets are paved in gold, and life is easy, and everything is possible. And sometimes there are moments when it does seem to work that way.

But like the immigrants, we find that it's not standard fare. We come to Jesus, and still have to deal with the same old world. We still have problems, and heavy burdens in our lives. We still contend with illness and tragedy, still get fired from jobs, still hurt people, and get hurt by them, in the same old ways.

Well, you might say, at least if you’re a Christian it makes some things eaiser to decide. Jesus and the Bible give us clear-cut answers to life’s biggest questions. Oh, really? Again, sometimes yes, and sometimes no. Think about the national debates surrounding our presence in Iraq; or in our own church, around the blessing of same sex unions. There are honest, committed Christian disciples on both sides of those conversations, and the answers often seem less than wholly obvious.

But wait-- there’s more! Not only does being a Christian not automatically solve some problems, but it seems to me that “Confessing Jesus” can, in fact, add to the difficulty.

Look outside, for example. It's a lovely, sunny summer day. You could be sleeping in, or playing golf, or relaxing on the back porch with the paper and a cup of coffee, or doing any number of other, easier things that many of your neighbors are enjoying right now-- instead of setting the alarm one more day in the week, and getting dressed, and schlepping yourself (and the kids) into the car to make it to church.

Then there are the reactions we get to the choices we make as Christians. Sometimes you can't win for losing. Take the current debate over the proposed constitutional amendment to ban desecration of the flag. Senator Orrin Hatch was recently quoted as saying it was "important that we venerate the national symbol of our country." (emphasis mine).

If I, as a Christian, allow this to pass without comment, what sort of worship am I tacitly supporting? If I disagree, however-- and I do; the flag is an important symbol, brothers and sisters, but it is not the cross-- there are those who would call my loyalty to this country into question.

Or, here's a simpler one: Yesterday I was in Michigan, for my classmate Susie's ordination to the priesthood-- a joyous occasion! My husband & I stayed at a local hotel the night before, and had breakfast there that morning. Because we were headed straight to the cathedral, I was in clerical attire-- and so what might otherwise have been a simple, quiet breakfast turned into an exercise in fielding an assortment of questions, as well as odd looks and double takes. Responses, as they often do, seem to run the gamut from perceptions of holiness, to confusion, to disapproving anger-- and had very little to do with who I am or might be.

Jesus knows this. In fact, he had the same experience. A few verses earlier than this morning's readings, he notes that "John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, `He has a demon'; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, `Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!'"

Notice something here, though. Jesus takes note of the conflicting expectations, but shows no sign of him changing his ways to suit prevailing opinion.... or to make the religious leadership comfortable... or to “fit in.” He refuses to take on the burden of their expectations. The fancy psychological term for this is “self-differentiation.”

So many of our burdens-- the problems we encounter, or that we create-- are our own, or those we allow others to lay upon us. We are weighed down by human criticism, human opinion, human behavior.

Jesus’ burden really is so much lighter, isn’t it? "Follow me," he says. "Learn from me." Yes, you may be criticized, or insulted... but that’s not your problem, your burden, so you don’t have to take it on. Let it go.

Yes, despite our best efforts, sin pulls us away from God, and the love God has for us, and the best God wants for us. But Jesus takes that all on, at the cross, and bridges that gap. And only asks that we return, and be forgiven, every time.

This is a burden we can take, brothers and sisters. A burden worth carrying-- and worth sharing.

". . . for the least of these. . ."

• The $11 million that Europeans spend on ice cream each year, would completely fund the fight against global AIDS.
• Every 3 seconds, a child somewhere in this world dies, from poverty-related causes.
• One billion people - nearly half of whom live in Sub-Saharan Africa - are living in extreme poverty. That's trying to survive on less than a dollar a day.

You will notice that, for some time now, this blog has been festooned with a small white banner in the upper right corner. "Make Poverty History," it says. If you click on it, you will find information about the Global Campaign Against Poverty (GCAP), and the movement to address this sad and sickening problem. The banner arises out of a portion of this movement originating in the UK; but if you check this list, you can find an equivalent organization in your neck of the world.

The U.S. version is called The One Campaign.

The goals of this movement are simple:
. More and better aid (their standard request is an additional 1% of the national budget)
. Debt cancellation for impoverished nations
. Trade justice
. National-level action

Today is "White Band Day:" a day set aside to raise awareness of the incredible need, and the possibilities for relief.

Tomorrow will be an amazing cluster of events collectively termed "Live 8." It's sponsored by a group called DATA, and here's something to note: NONE of them will be asking people for a dime. No admission, and no contribution required. Instead, they are asking for action. They are asking folks to communicate with their leaders, as the wealthiest nations of the world gather at the G8 Summit-- to ask that they pay particular attention to this issue, and to do something concrete to make more than a token difference.

I'm asking, too.

Take a few minutes to contact the president, your senator, and/or your congressman. Email, call, even write a snail mail letter, if that's your thing (yes, I can be an old-fashioned girl... this is not a news flash).

Please. . .