It was at my great-grandfather’s funeral that my cousin Amy and I got the giggles. We started laughing and couldn’t stop. This was many years ago—Amy and I were both in elementary school at the time. Picture two little girls, with Tennessee twangs and big blue eyes, sitting in their Sunday best, their hands clamped over their mouths as they tried to muffle sidesplitting laughter. That was us.
What it was that sparked our laughter, I am not sure. Rest assured that it had nothing to do with my great-grandfather, Grover Sain, who lay in his casket just a few feet from us. Who knows what sets two little girls to giggling? Maybe one of us said something funny. Or maybe, in our boredom, we had focused our attention on something mundane and found it humorous. Whatever it was, we couldn't help ourselves.
I should go back a moment and tell you what I remember about my great-grandfather. For one, I called him "white-headed PaPa" (pronounced paw-paw). You see, white-headed PaPa, not to be confused with my grandfather, whom I called PaPa, did not have gray hair. He had an impressive shock of white hair that was always a bit mussed up, as if he'd just walked into the house with a gust of wind. I have a few vivid memories of him. One is of when my mom and I went to white-headed PaPa's house to decorate his home for Christmas. He was at the age where he didn't feel like decorating for Christmas, or was disinclined to, but my mom was determined that he would have some Christmas cheer in his home. She took what few ornaments he had—old glass Christmas tree balls and a couple of strings of lights—and carefully placed them about white-headed PaPa’s living room. On another occasion, I was fortunate to sleep over at my great-grandfather’s house. His youngest daughter, my Great Aunt Pattie, was visiting him, and as a special treat I got to spend the night too. It was the only time in my life that I slept on a feather mattress. I remember getting into that big bed in that cold, old house and immediately sinking deep into soft, downy feathers. I had never experienced anything like it. My last memory of white-headed PaPa is, as I said, sitting at visitation, just prior to his funeral, and giggling with cousin Amy.
In my mind, Amy and I were loud and distracting. How could we have been anything but? Our giggling was of the sort that brings tears to your eyes and makes your sides hurt. We wanted to stop laughing—we could tell that we were supposed to be somber—but we just couldn’t stop. Yet, we must not have been as loud as I thought, because no one told us to shush, and we were not scolded. Perhaps our carrying-on is greater in my memory than it actually was that day at the funeral home.
I confess that I have given death, and the life that follows, more and more thought in recent years. I hope that doesn’t sound morose. But I want to say this. When my funeral is here—no day soon, I hope, but when the occasion does come—I invite you to laugh. Really, I don’t think I’ll mind. I will have moved on to something far grander than anything we can imagine here. Pass out cigars, if you’d like—you know, the way a proud father does when a baby is born. For our life after death will be just the beginning, the start of something new.
I leave you with 1 Corinthians 15:42-44—So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
—Kim Paras
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
“Words From Kim’s Notebook”
It was my parents or Sunday school teachers, probably both, who told me when I was a child that God watched every single thing I did. He not only saw every move I made, I was told, but He heard every word I said and knew my every thought—even the unspoken ones. Talk about trying to put a little girl on the straight and narrow.
Those adults, who helped shape the person I would become, had not only a short-term impact on me—while far from perfect, I’ve managed to stay on the straight and narrow—but their words continue to influence my life today.
That lesson taught to me as a child—that God is always aware of me—has stayed with me. I always sense God’s presence, in varying degrees depending on how much I’m paying attention to God’s guiding hand or how well I am listening to His voice, which is ever present but sometimes hard for me to decipher. I especially sense God’s presence when I am driving. My car is about the only place where I have quiet time alone. With a husband, four stepchildren, and a busy job, I find that it is in the confines of my vehicle, on my commute to and from work each weekday, that I have an opportunity to ruminate, to knock about thoughts in this ol' noggin' of mine. It's at those times, when I don’t have the distractions of people or TVs or children’s video games that I am especially aware of God being with me. I don't imagine Him sitting next to me in the passenger seat or sitting in the back seat whispering advice in my ear. It is more like God's presence being inside of me, being part of my soul. As I drive, I sometimes have conversations with God without uttering a word out loud. I will have these talks quietly in my mind, and I feel God is in my mind too, listening and giving me feedback.
God is so much a part of my inner thinking, it is as if He has permeated the most basic but vital parts of me—He is in my cells, in the tissue of my heart muscle, in the blood pulsing through my veins and arteries. I am very comfortable with this, as comfortable as I am breathing in and breathing out.
You might think that someone as connected to God as I am would have answers to a lot of questions. No, I'm afraid not. I don't think I am the best listener when it comes to God, and I am certainly not the most patient in terms of waiting for God to answer my questions. But He is there. I know this.
On those rare occasions when I meet or read of someone who doesn't believe in God, I find it impossible to comprehend the concept. If God is not a part of you, who do you turn to in need? We can offer ourselves and others only so much comfort and guidance. What do you do for the big things? When you’ve lost loved ones, for example? That is the first thing that comes to my mind when thinking about those who claim not to believe in God. I have cried myself to sleep after the loss of a loved one, pleading with God to ease my sorrow. God is there to wipe away my tears. Not literally, of course. But it is knowing that God is there, sensing that His spirit is present, watching over me, listening to me, never leaving my side—that is what carries me through each day.
I leave you with 1 John 3:19—This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. - Kim Paras
Those adults, who helped shape the person I would become, had not only a short-term impact on me—while far from perfect, I’ve managed to stay on the straight and narrow—but their words continue to influence my life today.
That lesson taught to me as a child—that God is always aware of me—has stayed with me. I always sense God’s presence, in varying degrees depending on how much I’m paying attention to God’s guiding hand or how well I am listening to His voice, which is ever present but sometimes hard for me to decipher. I especially sense God’s presence when I am driving. My car is about the only place where I have quiet time alone. With a husband, four stepchildren, and a busy job, I find that it is in the confines of my vehicle, on my commute to and from work each weekday, that I have an opportunity to ruminate, to knock about thoughts in this ol' noggin' of mine. It's at those times, when I don’t have the distractions of people or TVs or children’s video games that I am especially aware of God being with me. I don't imagine Him sitting next to me in the passenger seat or sitting in the back seat whispering advice in my ear. It is more like God's presence being inside of me, being part of my soul. As I drive, I sometimes have conversations with God without uttering a word out loud. I will have these talks quietly in my mind, and I feel God is in my mind too, listening and giving me feedback.
God is so much a part of my inner thinking, it is as if He has permeated the most basic but vital parts of me—He is in my cells, in the tissue of my heart muscle, in the blood pulsing through my veins and arteries. I am very comfortable with this, as comfortable as I am breathing in and breathing out.
You might think that someone as connected to God as I am would have answers to a lot of questions. No, I'm afraid not. I don't think I am the best listener when it comes to God, and I am certainly not the most patient in terms of waiting for God to answer my questions. But He is there. I know this.
On those rare occasions when I meet or read of someone who doesn't believe in God, I find it impossible to comprehend the concept. If God is not a part of you, who do you turn to in need? We can offer ourselves and others only so much comfort and guidance. What do you do for the big things? When you’ve lost loved ones, for example? That is the first thing that comes to my mind when thinking about those who claim not to believe in God. I have cried myself to sleep after the loss of a loved one, pleading with God to ease my sorrow. God is there to wipe away my tears. Not literally, of course. But it is knowing that God is there, sensing that His spirit is present, watching over me, listening to me, never leaving my side—that is what carries me through each day.
I leave you with 1 John 3:19—This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. - Kim Paras
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Words from Kim's Notebook
“Words From Kim’s Notebook”
I wonder if you can tell that I struggle with what to write in this space each month. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t consider writing this a burden. I enjoy writing. But in recent months, when I’ve sat down with my computer, I’ve had difficulty focusing my thoughts into something that I could translate into a coherent message. With so much going on in the world today, particularly with the economy and the stresses of my job, it has been quite a challenge to get my mind to settle down. So today I said to myself: What is the first thing that comes to mind? Write about that. And today, on this Sunday, at about 2 in the afternoon, John is on my mind. The apostle John.
John has been in my thoughts since I received a note from my cousin Lisa, who is a missionary living in Asia. Lisa writes a monthly newsletter in which she talks about the work she is doing overseas. In her last newsletter, she mentioned that she had been “hanging out with John.” She said it just like that, very casually. Knowing my dear cousin, I knew that she wasn’t referring to a friend or a boyfriend. I knew that she meant the apostle John. John, one of Jesus’ inner circle of friends and the author of the last of the four Gospels. John, author of three letters in the New Testament. John, who wrote the book in the Bible that since childhood I have considered to be both mysterious and even a little frightening: the book of Revelation.
My cousin Lisa is well-versed in the Bible, much more so than I. Several years ago, she and my Aunt Dianne visited me here in New York. Despite the hustle of our schedule during their brief visit—sightseeing in Manhattan and around Orange County—Lisa always found time to curl up on my couch with a pen, notebook, and the Bible. I admired this because I do not do as good of a job of making time to curl up with the Good Word (as my Southern Baptist cousin refers to it). I remember that when Lisa was here, she was hanging out with Paul—that is, she was reading the apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans. Lisa mentioned at the time that Romans was one of her favorite books of the Bible.
And so now, she is spending time with John. Inspired by that, I decided to hang out with John today. Before I share a passage here, I think it’s important to remember that John is someone who actually knew Jesus when Jesus was here on Earth in human form. We all know that, of course, but when we read the Bible—at least this is the case with me—it is easy to forget that these are not the words of just any historian, but the words of someone who lived at the same time as Jesus, who prayed with Jesus, ate with him, hugged him, laughed and cried with him, and experienced the agony of losing him (albeit temporarily) to the horrors of a crucifixion.
The following is from 1 John 1:1-2, 5. This letter is thought to have been written between A.D. 85 and A.D. 95: That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.
—Kim Paras
I wonder if you can tell that I struggle with what to write in this space each month. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t consider writing this a burden. I enjoy writing. But in recent months, when I’ve sat down with my computer, I’ve had difficulty focusing my thoughts into something that I could translate into a coherent message. With so much going on in the world today, particularly with the economy and the stresses of my job, it has been quite a challenge to get my mind to settle down. So today I said to myself: What is the first thing that comes to mind? Write about that. And today, on this Sunday, at about 2 in the afternoon, John is on my mind. The apostle John.
John has been in my thoughts since I received a note from my cousin Lisa, who is a missionary living in Asia. Lisa writes a monthly newsletter in which she talks about the work she is doing overseas. In her last newsletter, she mentioned that she had been “hanging out with John.” She said it just like that, very casually. Knowing my dear cousin, I knew that she wasn’t referring to a friend or a boyfriend. I knew that she meant the apostle John. John, one of Jesus’ inner circle of friends and the author of the last of the four Gospels. John, author of three letters in the New Testament. John, who wrote the book in the Bible that since childhood I have considered to be both mysterious and even a little frightening: the book of Revelation.
My cousin Lisa is well-versed in the Bible, much more so than I. Several years ago, she and my Aunt Dianne visited me here in New York. Despite the hustle of our schedule during their brief visit—sightseeing in Manhattan and around Orange County—Lisa always found time to curl up on my couch with a pen, notebook, and the Bible. I admired this because I do not do as good of a job of making time to curl up with the Good Word (as my Southern Baptist cousin refers to it). I remember that when Lisa was here, she was hanging out with Paul—that is, she was reading the apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans. Lisa mentioned at the time that Romans was one of her favorite books of the Bible.
And so now, she is spending time with John. Inspired by that, I decided to hang out with John today. Before I share a passage here, I think it’s important to remember that John is someone who actually knew Jesus when Jesus was here on Earth in human form. We all know that, of course, but when we read the Bible—at least this is the case with me—it is easy to forget that these are not the words of just any historian, but the words of someone who lived at the same time as Jesus, who prayed with Jesus, ate with him, hugged him, laughed and cried with him, and experienced the agony of losing him (albeit temporarily) to the horrors of a crucifixion.
The following is from 1 John 1:1-2, 5. This letter is thought to have been written between A.D. 85 and A.D. 95: That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.
—Kim Paras
Bellvale October News
Shoprite Cards
Don’t forget that Bellvale is still selling Shoprite gift cards as an ongoing fundraiser. Cards can be purchased in $25, $50 and $100 denominations. Nancy Beatty is the contact person for this project. Take advantage of the Warwick supermarket price wars and help your church at the same time!
Can and Bottle Redemption
Lorraine Otterbein is initiating a fundraiser to earn money for the Bellvale church through the redemption of empty cans and bottles. She is asking people to take the cans and bottles to the store and then donate the money to the church. There is a jar in the fellowship hall to collect these funds. This is a painless way to help your church and at the same time help the environment by recycling all those empty cans and bottles.
Don’t forget that Bellvale is still selling Shoprite gift cards as an ongoing fundraiser. Cards can be purchased in $25, $50 and $100 denominations. Nancy Beatty is the contact person for this project. Take advantage of the Warwick supermarket price wars and help your church at the same time!
Can and Bottle Redemption
Lorraine Otterbein is initiating a fundraiser to earn money for the Bellvale church through the redemption of empty cans and bottles. She is asking people to take the cans and bottles to the store and then donate the money to the church. There is a jar in the fellowship hall to collect these funds. This is a painless way to help your church and at the same time help the environment by recycling all those empty cans and bottles.
Lectionary Readings for October
October 3, 2010 [Green]
Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Lamentations 1:1-6
Psalm 137 (UMH 852)
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10
October 10, 2010 [Green]
Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
Psalm 66:1-12 (UMH 790)
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19
October 17, 2010 [Green]
Twenty-First Sunday After Pentecost
Laity Sunday
Jeremiah 31:27-34
Psalm 119:97-104 or Psalm 19 (UMH 750)
2 Timothy 3:14-4:5
Luke 18:1-8
October 24, 2010 [Green]
Twenty-Second Sunday After Pentecost
Joel 2:23-32
Psalm 65 (UMH 789)
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Luke 18:9-14
October 31, 2010 [White or Red]
Twenty-Third Sunday After Pentecost
(Readings from All Saints Day may be substituted)
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
Psalm 119:137-144 (UMH 840)
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10
Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Lamentations 1:1-6
Psalm 137 (UMH 852)
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10
October 10, 2010 [Green]
Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
Psalm 66:1-12 (UMH 790)
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19
October 17, 2010 [Green]
Twenty-First Sunday After Pentecost
Laity Sunday
Jeremiah 31:27-34
Psalm 119:97-104 or Psalm 19 (UMH 750)
2 Timothy 3:14-4:5
Luke 18:1-8
October 24, 2010 [Green]
Twenty-Second Sunday After Pentecost
Joel 2:23-32
Psalm 65 (UMH 789)
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Luke 18:9-14
October 31, 2010 [White or Red]
Twenty-Third Sunday After Pentecost
(Readings from All Saints Day may be substituted)
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
Psalm 119:137-144 (UMH 840)
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10
Pastor's Letter - October
A few days ago, when I got out of my car I was greeted by the noise of hundreds of starlings gathering in the trees around the parsonage. The noise was simply amazing and LOUD. They were all gathering together to begin their migration south as the colder weather moves in.
How about you? Are you needing to gather with a group of fellow humans to re-connect before the colder weather arrives? Or perhaps some parts of your life already feel cold and a bit deserted. Something seems to be missing, but no matter how hard you work or play or do those things that make for a healthy life there’s still a restlessness that persists.
We are created to need one another and we are created with a deep need for God in our lives. Probably deeper than any instinct we are driven by these two needs. They come very close to the center of our souls. For this reason alone, disagreements or conflicts about religious beliefs become so heated and even violent.
Coming together in Christian community fills both those needs. Be it for worship, for Bible study, to help with the fair or one of the dinners or to help with a mission opportunity, when people come together under the umbrella of Church something more than just a gathering or work party results. Some presence makes itself felt and moves through the group.
The laughter and the joy that emerge are the music of the spirit. The more we gather and the more people that gather, the louder the music of all our spirits joined together becomes. We find our restless spirits quieted. We find a place that feels just right. Warm, safe, sheltered yet ready to over flow with the love that enters our hearts.
Our lives are a long journey. At times, often times, we need to flock together and join our voices in prayer and praise to the Lord. It’s not about being worthy or good enough or having gifts to offer. It is about meeting the basic need of ours to gather together with our fellow brothers and sisters and join together on the journey before us.
Sunday School has started – so there is a place for children and adults alike. Choir returns the first Sunday in October, so there is a place for your voice to lift itself heavenward. The first Youth Group meeting is Sunday the 26th and there will be places for youth in particular, but also helpful adults to work for mission, fellowship and music. Monday evening Bible Study will continue to look at a few Gospel passages each week. (This group will move to a daytime in Nov.) The Crafters are hard at work getting ready for the Columbus week-end Fair.
There’s a place for everyone and anyone to gather with us and find that fellowship and ways to let their voices make a joyful noise to the Lord.
Shalom,
Pastor Lynne
How about you? Are you needing to gather with a group of fellow humans to re-connect before the colder weather arrives? Or perhaps some parts of your life already feel cold and a bit deserted. Something seems to be missing, but no matter how hard you work or play or do those things that make for a healthy life there’s still a restlessness that persists.
We are created to need one another and we are created with a deep need for God in our lives. Probably deeper than any instinct we are driven by these two needs. They come very close to the center of our souls. For this reason alone, disagreements or conflicts about religious beliefs become so heated and even violent.
Coming together in Christian community fills both those needs. Be it for worship, for Bible study, to help with the fair or one of the dinners or to help with a mission opportunity, when people come together under the umbrella of Church something more than just a gathering or work party results. Some presence makes itself felt and moves through the group.
The laughter and the joy that emerge are the music of the spirit. The more we gather and the more people that gather, the louder the music of all our spirits joined together becomes. We find our restless spirits quieted. We find a place that feels just right. Warm, safe, sheltered yet ready to over flow with the love that enters our hearts.
Our lives are a long journey. At times, often times, we need to flock together and join our voices in prayer and praise to the Lord. It’s not about being worthy or good enough or having gifts to offer. It is about meeting the basic need of ours to gather together with our fellow brothers and sisters and join together on the journey before us.
Sunday School has started – so there is a place for children and adults alike. Choir returns the first Sunday in October, so there is a place for your voice to lift itself heavenward. The first Youth Group meeting is Sunday the 26th and there will be places for youth in particular, but also helpful adults to work for mission, fellowship and music. Monday evening Bible Study will continue to look at a few Gospel passages each week. (This group will move to a daytime in Nov.) The Crafters are hard at work getting ready for the Columbus week-end Fair.
There’s a place for everyone and anyone to gather with us and find that fellowship and ways to let their voices make a joyful noise to the Lord.
Shalom,
Pastor Lynne
Friday, September 3, 2010
Words From Kim's Notebook
I came home from church last Sunday to find my azalea in a state of confusion. It was mid-August, and the azalea near our front door had produced a single bloom, a lovely, bright pink flower that shone from the tiny green leaves surrounding it. My azalea had done what I had expected of it back in May and June. It had fully bloomed, covering itself in flowers—such a deep, rich shade of pink, the blossoms could almost be mistook for red, depending on the light. In the spring, this shrub is one of the first things to bloom, keeping me content and happy until the nearby coneflowers wake up from their dormancy. Too soon, it seems, the azalea’s flowers die and fall off, but that is OK. That is the cycle of the azalea, and I know that flowers will be back next year.
To the casual observer, my azalea would appear unremarkable. It is small, probably a foot in height, but it is my favorite shrub in my flowerbed. When I purchased the young plant in 2008, it was one of three azaleas that I bought and planted. When I was growing up, my mother and grandmother had large, beautiful azaleas in front of their homes in Tennessee—they still do—so these young three azaleas in varying shades of pink were to be reminders for me of home. I will make our house look like Mom's and Granny's, I thought. But this is where my story takes a sad turn. I killed two of those azaleas. I later learned that I had not given the shrubs enough water—young plants need a fair amount as they work to establish themselves in the soil. I ended up having to pull the dead azaleas from the ground, their roots looking just as compact as they had the day I pulled the plants from their plastic containers, though this time the roots were brown and lifeless.
As for the third azalea, the one that surprised me last week, she turned out to be a survivor. Unlike the other two, she had a fair amount of new growth and healthy leaves on her at the time the others were a complete loss. Dead branches covered only one side. I took my small pruners and cut away all the dead parts. Come on, sweetie, live! And then I waited. And waited.
When the azalea began its recovery, it looked lopsided, certainly imperfect, as there was a huge gap in the area where I had pruned. But over time, the mended part of the shrub began to fill in with new growth and young leaves, and now the azalea thrives. I check on the azalea daily, the way a parent watches over a young child.
In recent days, thoughts of the azalea have been intertwined with my concerns about my grandmother, who, by the time you read these words, will have just celebrated her 90th birthday (August 26). Having never had any serious health problems in her life, she was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. I am worried, and afraid, and struggling with a tendency to think of worst-case scenarios at a time when I should be thinking positive and relying on God. After all, that is what I would advise anyone else if they were me. But it is difficult to stay positive sometimes, isn’t it? We are, after all, only human, with human worries.
I find myself wanting the unreasonable, and that is for my Granny to live forever. Of course, she will not, nor would she want to. The other day she said to me, “I see this as the beginning of the winding down.” She said that calmly and matter-of-factly. And in talking about what treatment the doctors might recommend, she spoke these wise words: “You just have to take things one day at a time.”
I share this with you because I find that my mind thinks of little else these days except for a grandmother who loves me and who has always been there for me. I hope for miracles, like the azalea producing a bloom in the oppressive heat of August. But deep down, I simply pray for the touch of God’s caring hand.
I leave you with Psalm 121:1-2—I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
—Kim Paras
To the casual observer, my azalea would appear unremarkable. It is small, probably a foot in height, but it is my favorite shrub in my flowerbed. When I purchased the young plant in 2008, it was one of three azaleas that I bought and planted. When I was growing up, my mother and grandmother had large, beautiful azaleas in front of their homes in Tennessee—they still do—so these young three azaleas in varying shades of pink were to be reminders for me of home. I will make our house look like Mom's and Granny's, I thought. But this is where my story takes a sad turn. I killed two of those azaleas. I later learned that I had not given the shrubs enough water—young plants need a fair amount as they work to establish themselves in the soil. I ended up having to pull the dead azaleas from the ground, their roots looking just as compact as they had the day I pulled the plants from their plastic containers, though this time the roots were brown and lifeless.
As for the third azalea, the one that surprised me last week, she turned out to be a survivor. Unlike the other two, she had a fair amount of new growth and healthy leaves on her at the time the others were a complete loss. Dead branches covered only one side. I took my small pruners and cut away all the dead parts. Come on, sweetie, live! And then I waited. And waited.
When the azalea began its recovery, it looked lopsided, certainly imperfect, as there was a huge gap in the area where I had pruned. But over time, the mended part of the shrub began to fill in with new growth and young leaves, and now the azalea thrives. I check on the azalea daily, the way a parent watches over a young child.
In recent days, thoughts of the azalea have been intertwined with my concerns about my grandmother, who, by the time you read these words, will have just celebrated her 90th birthday (August 26). Having never had any serious health problems in her life, she was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. I am worried, and afraid, and struggling with a tendency to think of worst-case scenarios at a time when I should be thinking positive and relying on God. After all, that is what I would advise anyone else if they were me. But it is difficult to stay positive sometimes, isn’t it? We are, after all, only human, with human worries.
I find myself wanting the unreasonable, and that is for my Granny to live forever. Of course, she will not, nor would she want to. The other day she said to me, “I see this as the beginning of the winding down.” She said that calmly and matter-of-factly. And in talking about what treatment the doctors might recommend, she spoke these wise words: “You just have to take things one day at a time.”
I share this with you because I find that my mind thinks of little else these days except for a grandmother who loves me and who has always been there for me. I hope for miracles, like the azalea producing a bloom in the oppressive heat of August. But deep down, I simply pray for the touch of God’s caring hand.
I leave you with Psalm 121:1-2—I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
—Kim Paras
Sunday, June 27, 2010
"Words From Kim's Notebook"
I recently made a promise to myself to pray more slowly. I have noticed lately that I’ve been dashing off my prayers to God in a hurry, saying a quick "thank you for … and please watch over" just before nodding off at night or before getting out of my car to walk to the office in the morning.
Maybe God doesn’t mind. But I mind. At some point in my life of prayer, my prayers—my conversations with God—have lost the respect and reverence toward God that I feel they should have. I’m ashamed to admit it, but many times I have prayed without paying much attention to what I was saying. The words I was turning over in my mind or saying aloud were routine. Part of my brain would be talking to God, and another part would be thinking about what I needed to do next—household chores, work, phone calls.
I have fallen victim to how our society can be—hurried, distracted, in a rush. I feel that I rush to get ready in the morning, rush to the office, work all day but leave feeling like I didn’t get it all done, then rush home to eat dinner, wash dishes, do chores, then catch some shut-eye before doing it all over again the next day. I suspect many of you can relate.
I need to slow down. If God were sitting in front of me, if He were visible in a human form, listening intently to me, there is no way I would rush my time spent talking to Him. If I were sitting across from God, me talking to Him, I wouldn’t dare be so disrespectful as to quickly go over my concerns and then finish the conversation with a quick "amen."
The thing is, God is in front of me. He does intently listen to my prayers. He always has and always will. When I pray to him, I want to have reverence and respect and awe—the awe of speaking to the God Almighty, the creator of all, and knowing that He is listening to me. I want to pray with more faith, the faith that the prophets of the Old Testament had. The faith of the apostles, who worked and lived with Jesus, and then who went on to spread His word after Jesus ascended into heaven. The faith of Jesus, who when he prayed to God, always spoke as a son, a child, who loved and trusted his father more than words can say.
That sort of faithful, heartfelt prayer will take effort on my part. And I will need to remember to stop my rushing about, and to take a deep breath and pray more slowly, more thoughtfully.
I leave you with Jeremiah 29:12-13—Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
—Kim Paras
Maybe God doesn’t mind. But I mind. At some point in my life of prayer, my prayers—my conversations with God—have lost the respect and reverence toward God that I feel they should have. I’m ashamed to admit it, but many times I have prayed without paying much attention to what I was saying. The words I was turning over in my mind or saying aloud were routine. Part of my brain would be talking to God, and another part would be thinking about what I needed to do next—household chores, work, phone calls.
I have fallen victim to how our society can be—hurried, distracted, in a rush. I feel that I rush to get ready in the morning, rush to the office, work all day but leave feeling like I didn’t get it all done, then rush home to eat dinner, wash dishes, do chores, then catch some shut-eye before doing it all over again the next day. I suspect many of you can relate.
I need to slow down. If God were sitting in front of me, if He were visible in a human form, listening intently to me, there is no way I would rush my time spent talking to Him. If I were sitting across from God, me talking to Him, I wouldn’t dare be so disrespectful as to quickly go over my concerns and then finish the conversation with a quick "amen."
The thing is, God is in front of me. He does intently listen to my prayers. He always has and always will. When I pray to him, I want to have reverence and respect and awe—the awe of speaking to the God Almighty, the creator of all, and knowing that He is listening to me. I want to pray with more faith, the faith that the prophets of the Old Testament had. The faith of the apostles, who worked and lived with Jesus, and then who went on to spread His word after Jesus ascended into heaven. The faith of Jesus, who when he prayed to God, always spoke as a son, a child, who loved and trusted his father more than words can say.
That sort of faithful, heartfelt prayer will take effort on my part. And I will need to remember to stop my rushing about, and to take a deep breath and pray more slowly, more thoughtfully.
I leave you with Jeremiah 29:12-13—Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
—Kim Paras
July 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Lectionary Readings for June
June 6, 2010
Second Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 17:8-24
Psalm 146
Galatians 1:11-24
Luke 7:11-17
June 13, 2010
Third Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 21:1-21a
Psalm 5:1-8
Galatians 2: 15-21
Luke 7:38-8:3
June 20, 2010
Fourth Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 19:1-15a
Psalm 42
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8:26-39
June 27, 2010
Fifth Sunday After Pentecost
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
Luke 9:51-62
Second Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 17:8-24
Psalm 146
Galatians 1:11-24
Luke 7:11-17
June 13, 2010
Third Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 21:1-21a
Psalm 5:1-8
Galatians 2: 15-21
Luke 7:38-8:3
June 20, 2010
Fourth Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 19:1-15a
Psalm 42
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8:26-39
June 27, 2010
Fifth Sunday After Pentecost
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
Luke 9:51-62
June 2010 Greetings from Pastor Lynne
Dear Friends;
Summer certainly has arrived! After such a tough winter, the warmth and the sun are certainly welcomed. How many of us who complained about the snow and cold rainy days are now thinking it's going to be a long hot and uncomfortable winter?
We are funny creatures, we who are the children of God. We who seek quick answers to our toughest questions. We who are fickle when it comes to what we want or don't want. We who sometimes think that God hasn't heard our prayers when we don't find the answer we want. So sure are we that we forget to look around for evidence that maybe, yes maybe the Spirit is madly trying to direct our attention to an answer we never even dreamt possible.
So, I encourage you, no I would instruct you to keep looking for the Spirit at work in your life. Look beyond the answers you want and expect. Look beyond the day in and day out life goes on. Know that God is at work and expect to find him there.
Peace,
Pastor Lynne
Summer certainly has arrived! After such a tough winter, the warmth and the sun are certainly welcomed. How many of us who complained about the snow and cold rainy days are now thinking it's going to be a long hot and uncomfortable winter?
We are funny creatures, we who are the children of God. We who seek quick answers to our toughest questions. We who are fickle when it comes to what we want or don't want. We who sometimes think that God hasn't heard our prayers when we don't find the answer we want. So sure are we that we forget to look around for evidence that maybe, yes maybe the Spirit is madly trying to direct our attention to an answer we never even dreamt possible.
So, I encourage you, no I would instruct you to keep looking for the Spirit at work in your life. Look beyond the answers you want and expect. Look beyond the day in and day out life goes on. Know that God is at work and expect to find him there.
Peace,
Pastor Lynne
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