The Struggle to Stay Present

 

I went to see a show in Durham last Thursday night. 

Before the show, I went to dinner with a friend.

We went to a restaurant that serves African cuisine

And the food was delicious!

But I had to employee all of my staying present tools

To sit there and be present

Instead of just worrying about time. 

 

The show started at 7:30.

Our reservation for dinner was at six.

We got there and were seated at 5:50. 

At 6:20, we still hadn’t placed our food order,

Nor had we gotten the sodas we had requested.

And it wasn’t because the restaurant was crowded.

There were only three other tables seated.

 

Usually, an hour and a half is plenty of time to eat. 

And in the end, it turned out to be enough time for us. 

But while we were waiting for what seemed like an eternity,

An hour and a half didn’t seem like enough.

 

I knew what was happening inside of me.

I knew that I was anxious about time. 

Though my self-imposed obligation to always be early has lessened over the years

And I’ve learned that time is a bit more fluid than I always made it,

There are some things to which I still want to be early.

And shows are one of them.

 

I was sitting with good company. 

We were safe and warm. 

There was no real reason for me to feel stressed. 

And yet there I sat,

Body tense, 

Leg bouncing, 

Constantly checking the time on my phone, 

Inwardly judging myself because I knew I wasn’t at peace because I was 

Worrying about the future of what could be instead of 

Staying grounded in the present of what actually was. 

 

It’s hard to stay present in reality. 

It’s hard not to project what if’s onto the future or

Reel on the what was’s of the past. 

It’s hard not to think that people are out to get you

Or that the universe is conspiring against you

Or that your time is more valuable than anyone else’s.

 

But our challenge is to do what’s hard

And attempt to stay present in the moment.

 

So may we each accept the challenge of fully living and resting in moments of goodness and peace.  

 

Small blessings surround us,

Like good food and company. 

 

May we embrace those moments in the present 

And trust ourselves to deal with the future when it happens. 

 

Amen. 

Emergency Pants

 

Sometime ago,

My aunt gave me a pair of pants that she affectionately called lounge pants.

I liked the pants, though,

A pretty color, 

Long and flowing, 

Made of a material that wouldn’t wrinkle,

Stretchy waistband, 

And so I changed their status to regular pants.

 

I wore the pants to work last Tuesday. 

I had a couple of people comment on how pretty my outfit was and 

I was so comfortable in the pants that I didn’t immediately change them when I got home.

 

I wrote my blackout poetry,

I laid down to rest for about 15 minutes, 

And I went to the Chinese place for takeout. 

 

Then, when I got home, mom said,

“Dee, you have a hole in your pants!”

I had noticed a little pick in the front where my bracelet had caught the fabric

But I was wondering how Mom could see such a tiny hole. 

I said, “I do? Where?”

She said, “In the back!

It’s huge!”

 

And sure enough,

I reached to my left butt cheek,

And there was an enormous hole

So big that only my underwear was showing!

 

Not only that,

But I could feel the breeze on my backside!

 

I’m not sure what happened in between the Chinese place and me getting home

But I was extremely thankful that that hole hadn’t grown when I was in public!

 

And then it made me think,

What if this had happened at work? 

I would’ve had to leave school and go buy  new pants!

 

And then it made me think:

I have an emergency cash squirrel stash. 

Maybe I need an emergency clothing squirrel stash—

Pants and a shirt to wear in case of mystery holes. 

 

The sad thing?

My lounge pants turned regular pants would have been the perfect candidate for the job. 

 

But alas. 

They are beyond repair and 

Officially relinquished to the rag pile. 

 

The end. 

Oil Spots

 

I was sitting in the parking lot at Lidl on Sunday morning

When I looked ahead at the empty parking spaces

And noticed just how many oil and fluid stains there were!

 

I thought to myself,

A lot of people’s cars must leak oil and fluids!

I hope mine is not one of them. 

 

I’m a 5000 mile oil change girl.

I get the multi point inspection and probably let the Toyota place suck me in to getting things done that I don’t really need. 

I would like to think that they’re not taking advantage of me because I am a woman

But maybe they are.

I just know that I feel better when I feel like my car is maintained

Even though, really, it could break down just as easily as any other vehicle.

 

I recently had to get tires. 

I did actually need them. 

They weren’t completely bald and I probably could’ve gotten some more use out of the ones I had,

But bad weather and travel were coming

So I went on and got them. 

 

In the process,

I realized just what a privilege it is to be able to get new tires

And to maintain my oil and fluids every 5000 miles. 

Car maintenance is expensive and time consuming. 

Some people don’t have the money to do routine maintenance while

Other people don’t have the time. 

Some people must choose between putting food on the table and getting their car serviced while 

Other people must choose between spending time family duties and sitting at the shop because they don’t have anyone to come pick them up or because they don’t have anyone to sit with the kids. 

To have a little bit of money in savings to cover tires and other expenses—

To have the time to sit and wait and do work—

These things are a privilege. 

And I don’t have them for granted. 

Not in these days. 

Not in these times. 

Not at this moment in history 

When it seems that life as we know it is quickly changing. 

 

May we not take simple things for granted. 

Oil changes. 

Fluid top offs. 

Tires. 

Smiles. 

Kindnesses. 

Open parking spaces. 

Hugs. 

Laughter. 

The ability to work. 

The ability to wait. 

Safety. 

And cars.

 

In so many ways,

We are a blessed people. 

Let us use our blessings to bless others 

And to help them keep their cars and lives maintained. 

 

Let us see less oil and fluid stains 

And more marks of love. 

 

Amen. 

 

12 Seconds

 

Have you ever been heating something in the microwave,

Waiting patiently,

Or maybe not so patiently,

When you got to the last few seconds,

And just gave up and opened the door early?

 

This happens all the time at school!

I’ll go to the microwave and see twelve seconds remaining,

Or four,

Or seven.

Some small number that represents seconds

That someone just couldn’t wait for their food.

 

I did it just the other day!

 

I suppose that in a school setting, every second counts.

We literally don’t have much time to heat our food and also eat it.

So saving a few seconds of heating time gives a few more seconds of eating time.

I know I’ve eaten my food cold more than once so I’d have more time to digest.

So I guess that makes sense.

 

But what about at home?

We open the microwave early all the time!

And there’s no rush.

There’s no reason not to wait for the final few seconds to impart heat into the food.

We just don’t do it.

We open the door and leave those seconds suspended in time.

And we create more steps for next time because we have to first clear out the wasted seconds

So that we can put in the new time and press start once again.

 

Why do we do this?

 

Why do we so often rush the process?

 

Why do we so often quit the process before it through?

 

Why do we so often wait impatiently when know that we are waiting for something good?

 

I don’t know.

 

Human nature I suppose.

 

I just think it’s interesting that we can’t wait 12 more seconds.

 

God, help us wait 12 more seconds.

 

Amen.

Sarah

 

I don’t remember her name. 

I think it was Sarah, but I can’t be sure. 

But she made an impact on my life over 20 years ago,

And I will forever be grateful. 

 

I met her at an Episcopal retreat weekend. 

I had signed up for the retreat because I was a big fan of the worship leader.

When I got to the retreat center, though,

I learned that the worship leader wasn’t going to be there. 

The person we will call Sarah was in charge of the weekend.

She gave me the choice to stay or to have my money refunded. 

I chose to stay. 

Why not?

After all, I was already there. 

 

If I were pressed to tell you what the focus of that retreat was, 

Then I wouldn’t be able to do it. 

All I remember is that we shared communion on Saturday night, 

Passed the common cup, 

And drank real wine. 

It was the first time I’d ever had real wine with communion. 

It was disgusting! 

All the Episcopalians laughed with me at my face when I tasted it. 

They also all laughed when I was surprised that they were having beer and wine during their fellowship time. 

Alcohol on a retreat was unheard of for me, 

The lone Baptist. 

 

I don’t know if she felt sorry for me or what, 

But Sarah went out of her way to befriend me that weekend

And to make sure I was as comfortable as possible in unfamiliar territory. 

After the weekend ended,

Sarah and I kept in touch via email, 

Which I suppose is how she told me about Glory Ridge. 

 

Glory Ridge is a retreat center outside Marshall, NC, 

That hosts youth groups during the summer 

And sends them into surrounding areas to do construction work. 

There is a small camp staff each summer 

And they happened to need one more person in 2004.

Did I have any construction experience? 

No. 

Was I at all prepared to sleep on the dirty floor of a little shed with no running water, barely any electricity, and mice?

No. 

But did it matter?

No. 

Sarah believed in me and my gifts,

So I went to serve on staff at Glory Ridge anyway. 

And I had a wonderful summer.

 

That summer,

I learned that a shower is a privilege rather than a necessity. 

I was introduced to the concept of being present and living fully in the moment. 

I became a fan of wind chimes.

And I began an ecumenical journey that would eventually lead me outside the narrow confines of religion

And into the open arms of faith.

 

And it’s all because of a person whose name I don’t even remember,

But whose presence of kindness, generosity, and openness changed my life.

 

May we be a people whose names may not be remembered

But whose legacies are passed down from person to person,

Generation to generation.

 

May we be a people who open doors of faith.

 

Amen.

Voiceless Coughing

 

It only took one Friday night cough for me to know that

I wasn’t going to have full voice on Sunday morning.

One cough told me that a cold was coming to sit in my chest and take my voice away.

One cough dashed weeks of hopeful planning for singing a powerful duet.

One cough set into motion numerous measures to keep my voice from leaving,

But to not avail.

I woke up yesterday morning unable to sing.

Truth be told,

I could barely talk.

 

To say that I was aggravated is an understatement.

I had been at home all week,

Not around known germs,

Resting,

And I still got sick.

Again.

 

And I got sick on a weekend I was scheduled to preach and sing.

The entire sermon was inspired by a song,

Yet suddenly my voice was stripped away and I was left singingly mute.

I muddled my way through the sermon with fear and trepidation.

The last time I preached, I was afraid of a nosebleed.

This time, I was afraid of a cough.

Last time, the nosebleed waited.

This time, the cough did not.

I coughed quite a few times,

My nose ran,

Tears rolled down my face from watery eyes,

And I was left standing there trying to deliver the message that was burning in my heart

But that I couldn’t get out of my mouth with voice inflection or style

Because I was on the verge of coughing with every word.

 

Thankfully, my friend Jes stepped in and sang a beautiful solo.

As she sang:

“You can pour your soul out singing,

A song you believe in,

That tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang,

Sing it anyway,”

I fought back tears,

Thinking,
“You can pour your heart out speaking

A sermon you believe in,

But the message will get lost in

Every cough,

Preach it anyway.”

 

Preach it anyway, with whatever voice you have.

Sing it anyway, even if the singing is in your head.

Show up anyway, fully aggravated or completely pleasant.

Love anyway, because you must.

Even when it seems your best is not good enough.

God still is…

Anyway.

 

Amen.

 

---

 

An excerpt from my sermon:

 

But, Deanna, we aren’t Jesus. 

And it’s hard to love

When someone speaks ill of us or someone we love,

When someone mocks all that we hold dear, 

When someone gives us the cold shoulder and refuses to work alongside us, 

When someone is flat out mean and seeks to destroy forward progress,

It’s hard to remember that they, too, are God’s child.

 

Yes. 

 

It is. 

 

But God created all humankind in God’s own image and 

Called humankind, 

At its core,

Good. 

 

And so Jesus challenges:

 

Love your enemies (because they are human.) 

do good to those who hate you (because they are human).

bless those who curse you (because they are human). 

pray for those who mistreat you (because they are human). 

 

You don’t have to like them. 

You don’t have to accept their bad behavior. 

You don’t have to remain silent in the face of injustice  

And you don’t have to endure abuse.

 

But Jesus challenges you to love.

To wish upon all people God’s higher good—

However that wish manifests itself in your life.

 

(pause)

 

Love them anyway.