A Holy Free-for-All

I've never forgotten a Maundy Thursday service I attended years ago at St. Paul's Lutheran Church in Milwaukee.  At the end of the service, anyone could come up to the altar area, grab something and remove it. Holy things - all handled with care by the women of the altar guild, the choir director, the pastors, the neighborhood children who came without parents, the church secretary, strangers, me.

People really got into it - everything that was not nailed down had to go. So focused on the task, some of the kids would have removed the furniture and rolled up the carpet if asked -- a somber, dead serious, holy free-for-all.

Like many churches, St. Paul's has an altar built against the wall. Behind the altar was a cloth backdrop.  If I remember correctly, it was a curtain or banner in the appropriate color of the season - probably a Lenten purple. When the custodian jumped up on the altar in his work boots and pulled down that cloth, I was shocked -- so completely appalled and offended, I remember it vividly years later! 

These days of Holy Week are like that - or should be.  Not so tamed down that we are not offended by the dead seriousness of the Cross.  Not so routine that we are not blown away by the new life that follows - God's holy free-for-all.  

Hold on.  Easter is coming.

An Early Alleluia!

Today a young child skipped and skee-daddled up to my communion line to receive a blessing.  I had already admired her lovely Easter dress and striped tights as she headed to Sunday School, worn a week early because - really - who can wait? This little girl first arrived in Advent, brought by her grandparents for the Christmas program rehearsals. They sat together on the steps of our fellowship hall while she learned the songs around the corner - just in case things didn't go smoothly. As Advent progressed, a younger granddaughter tagged along and they all  - grandparents and the littler one - played in the nursery while they waited. 

This morning, she had a sizeable group of admirers there to hear her sing with her Sunday School friends. She and most of the other children made it all the way through the long service, palm branches waving. When she skipped forward to the communion rail, pulling a grandmother in each hand, I couldn't help it - even with the somber ending to our passion story still ringing in my ears and the subdued Lenten hymns in the background. I couldn't help it - I laughed out loud, grateful for the many surprising ways God has been at work in our midst and - on the cusp of a week that can feel more harried than holy - blessing me with this little girl and her joy.  Alleluia!  A week early because - really - who can wait?

Loving the Library

I made a trip to the public library in downtown St. Paul yesterday to gather resources for a spring project on mythical creatures. The whole shelf of books on unicorns in the far reaches of adult non-fiction came as a surprise to me. A whole shelf!

The library is one of my favorite places. When the kids were smaller we visited so often, the librarians greeted us by name. They hunted down elusive titles, recommended authors, forgave fines, repaired torn pages and hauled stacks of books to the car when we accidentally checked out more materials than we could carry. In turn, I offered a listening ear when they moved elderly parents into assisted living facilities and when budget cuts eliminated positions and library hours. There were summers we diligently recorded every minute we spent reading in order to claim the (lame) prize of an inflatable baseball, months we borrowed nothing but origami books or cookbooks, many days when the "free" resources we couldn't locate under the couch or beds had to be replaced.

I am grateful that my children share my love for reading and have no complaints about whiling away an afternoon wandering through the stacks, pulling out the titles that grab our attention, sitting down on the floor to begin reading while other patrons maneuver around us.  The possibilities are endless: learn to fold a paper crane, plan a dinosaur birthday party, assemble and frost an impressive cake, wean a child, travel to another country, explore a culture, repair an oven door, paint a room, learn a yoga pose, draw a unicorn.

After finding the books on fantastic beasts we needed, I wandered through the little-explored biography section. I enjoyed some of the titles:

You Better Watch Out by Greg Malone
Dreams Can Come True by Susan Boyle
The Good Fight by Walter Mondale

And two of my curious favorites:
Never Tell Our Business to Strangers by Jennifer Mascia
A Supremely Bad Idea: Three Mad Birders and Their Quest to See It All by Luke Dempsey

I wondered on the way home what title would be appropriate for a book about my complicated, messy, wonderful life and was disappointed that A Supremely Bad Idea was already taken by those three wacky bird lovers. Here are some alternatives:

No, I Don't Have Any Thoughts about Supper
Mission Impossible: When Ministry and Motherhood Collide
Love, Love, Love: That's What It's All About

Have you read any good books lately?
What would be a good title for a book about your life?

Smooth Sailing

Our ten year-old daughter has outgrown her old bike - both the size and the princessy purple and pink colors. Her new one is a beautiful aqua blue, her first with gears and no pedal breaks.  This afternoon was warmish and sunny so we ventured out for a ride. 

Our suburb, which borders the Mississippi, has a wonderful bike trail with the river and its wildlife and barge traffic on one side and active train tracks on the other. Throw in the busy dog park along the path and it's almost sensory overload! 

However, between our house and the bike trail is a really steep hill.  It usually takes me several weeks of biking before I've worked up enough strength to get back up without stopping to walk.  It's not just that I'm out of shape, the hill is just that big. I've tried every possible street in town that leads away from the river and, although some hills are better than others, they're all bad.

The hardest part of our bike ride today was letting Sarah ride down the hill. What if she went too fast, fell off her bike, slid on the gravel, ran into a car, used the hand brakes too enthusiastically?  Her new bike seemed suddenly enormous and dangerous to me but she was confident and un-princesslike with her long hair flying, her unzipped sweatshirt flapping, her laughter tinged with both delight and fear. Sure, we had to walk back up at the end of our ride, but the conversation and the purple crocuses along the road eased the way.

How many of us inch down the big challenges and opportunities of life, both hands on the brakes, worried that we might make mistakes, go off the trail, have to limp back up?  Some risks are worth taking.

Next time, she plans to ease up on the brakes and go a little faster down the hill. 

I may have to send her with her father.