Tag Archives: gratitude

On Ferry Rides and God…

01 Wednesday May 2024

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Photo credit: https://www.vdot.virginia.gov/about/our-system/ferries/

Yesterday I attended a meeting that requires riding a ferry to attend.  I have always found the ferry a bit of a nuisance.  If timed incorrectly, one can spend almost thirty minutes just waiting to board the ferry.  But even timed correctly, once upon ferry, one must sit for the twenty-minute ride – certainly progressing toward the destination, but not nearly as quickly as it feels when driving.  Something about the taking the ferry feels like a mandatory suspension of time and progress. 

Knowing that reality, I try to plan ahead – with a call to make, emails to read, or a podcast to finish.  I talked to a fellow traveler who has young children at home who used the twenty minutes for a coveted power nap.  And certainly, when I have traveled with my own children, one has the opportunity to go to the upper deck and take in the wonder of creation – an imposed moment of awe and wonder.

Thinking about the various ways one occupies oneself on the ferry had me thinking about the gift of time.  My method of busying myself on the ferry is certainly one of attempting to master control of the uncontrollable.  That mother of young children saw the gift of time as just that – a blessed gift she had not realized she needed.  And my children remind me that every moment is ours to steward – that productivity might include making room for the sacred too – that the sacred might feed my moments of productivity just as much as powering through times of tangible productivity.

I wonder what moments God is gifting you today.  Sometimes our schedules are so full, we may believe that there is no room for a “God moment.”  But that is the funny thing about God.  God permeates all our moments – being there when we are hustling to make a deadline, there when our child is seeking care and compassion – or even just a ride from practice, there when the aging customer in front of us needs a little assistance, and there when a blue bird flutters by seeking the creation we rarely notice.  How might you adjust your senses today to acknowledge the sacred all around you?  How might you give thanks and gratitude for God’s blessings so easily unnoticed?  My prayer is for your awakened senses to the blessing of God’s presence today.

On Not Really Being Alone…

16 Wednesday Aug 2023

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Beehive Trail Iron Rungs, Acadia National Park (Photo credit: Elaine Ho; reuse with permission)

Last week, I finished up my sabbatical on a trip with college friends to Acadia National Park.  Having been friends for over 26 years, and having traveled together, domestically and abroad, we know each other well – each other’s habits, weaknesses, and strengths.  We know who is most likely to get up early for exercise, who you don’t talk to before they’ve had coffee, and who is a total chicken when it comes to anything adventure related.  That last one would be me.  But since we all know how tentative I am, we all know they will push me to try new adventures anyway, and I will say yes – even if I grumble, curse, and sometimes pray my way through the adventures.

This year’s adventure was hiking the Beehive Loop Trail – a trail with a steep mountain cliff, boulders, exposed ledges, and iron rungs.  We’ve done hikes before, and I’m relatively fit, but this was definitely a difficulty I have never tried and would certainly not have tried of my own volition.  But this is what we do, and so off I went.  I knew the trail was no joke when the first part of the “trail” was actually just a path of small boulders to navigate over.  As we made our way up, I could see the views were going to be amazing.  But I stopped when I got to the first real set of iron rungs.  After a few deep breaths, some encouraging words whispered in my ear, I grabbed the first rung.  As I scanned for where to place my feet, I could see worn footholds from thousands of hikers before me.  As we walked along ledges, the skinny tree trunks I used as handholds were smooth from those same thousands of hikers who had grabbed them before me.  When the hikers in front of us were moving slowly and we just had to stand on narrow ledges waiting for our turn, I hugged the rock cliff beside us. 

Nature’s handrails, Beehive Trail, Acadia National Park (Photo credit: Elizabeth Shows Caffey; reuse with permission)

During that hike, I slowly realized the reason I say yes to these challenging women is not because I’m avoiding conflict or caving to peer pressure.  I say yes because I am never alone in my yes.  Whether it is my amazing friend who refuses to bound ahead because she knows that if I slip or start to panic, she will catch me and encourage me ever so gently.  Whether it is the guidance of travelers before me who have left their wisdom behind.  Whether it is in God’s creation herself who stands strong when we need her.  So, as I mutter the reminder, “I love these women…” like it’s both a curse and a blessing, I am reminding myself I am not alone.  When I sigh in profound gratitude, “Thank you, tree,” I am reminding myself that God has not left me comfortless.  When I watch out-of-shape elders, and seemingly too young youngsters, being cheered on and reaching the top, I am reminded that none of us is alone. 

I wonder what challenges you are facing today that feel like a challenge you are facing alone.  I could have faced that mountain ledge or those crazy iron rungs and thought, “I am utterly alone in this.  Only I can take each step, ascend each level.  This is my battle to face.”  But just as I was never alone – and not just with my three other friends, but with countless generations of hikers, and centuries old formations of God’s creation, we are not alone in the challenges we face either.  How many times have we cried out to God for help, only to find a friend or stranger unexpectedly accompanying us?  Sometimes that worn foothold is hard to notice in the face of panic.  Sometimes the smoothness of that tree trunk is barely noticeable because we are gripping so hard or trying to move forward so quickly.  But God is with us, giving us companions for the journey.  We are not alone.

Sabbatical Journey…On Weariness and Gratitude

01 Saturday Jul 2023

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Montana Driving (reuse with permission)

Today was a driving day for our cross-country trip – perhaps the longest driving day of the trip.  All told, we were on the road, with multiple stops, for about 10-11 hours.  By the last hour, I was engaged in an inner complaint fest:  the trip felt like forever, I was stiff from the ride, and I just wanted to be in the next location and stretch my legs.  But when we arrived, I was glad I had kept my complaining to myself.  First my younger child exclaimed, “That wasn’t so bad!  It went by kind of quickly!”  My husband agreed, “Yeah, that was an easy drive!”  My elder child confessed, “I kind of like driving days.  They’re like ‘chill’ days.” 

Their comments helped me reflect on the day a little differently.  I tried to remember all the good things about the day:  the way the heavy fog slowly lifted to reveal beautifully green mountain scenery with rivers and tall pines; how fun it was to drive along winding road, hugging the curves; the pops of color that wildflowers brought to the drive; the fun road trip games we played, where everyone was winning at different points; the laughter, the naps, and adding a new state to our list of visited states.

Today, I am grateful for the invitation into gratitude.  It’s a practice I encourage all the time, but one that is easily forgotten when we are tired, weary, and cranky.  But the funny thing is that gratitude is the best antidote to us who are tired, weary, and cranky.  When we give thanks, we see all the good things that made us tired.  When we offer gratitude to God, our weariness is held like soft mattress.  When we give ourselves to thankfulness, crankiness is melted into praise.

I would love to hear what you are grateful for today.  How has God shown up in surprising ways?  How has the Holy Spirit spoken grace through people in your life?  How is Jesus inviting you into a new interpretation of the day?  I’m grateful for you and our journey together in gratitude!

Sermon – Luke 17.11-19, P23, YC, October 9, 2022

19 Wednesday Oct 2022

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Every once in a while, when we are having a particularly whiny, complaining, cranky evening at the Andrews-Weckerly household, I will break out the old, “So, what are you grateful for today?” question.  I cannot claim that our family has mastered some Zen-like practice of gratitude.  In fact, we still have to regularly remind each other simply to say, “Thank you!”  And if I am being honest, my question about what we are grateful for is a question based out frustration not out of a sense of habituated thankfulness.

I think that is why today’s Gospel lesson from Luke makes me so uncomfortable today.  Jesus graciously heals ten lepers at once with barely a word or flourish.  One of them, a Samaritan to be clear, returns, praising God in a loud voice, prostrating himself at Jesus’ feet, and thanking Jesus.  But Jesus’ response is where my guilt resides. “Were not ten made clean?  But the other nine, where are they?  Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Jesus asks.  How many times have I been one of the nine?  How many times have I experienced blessing, only to focus on another ill in my life?  How many times have I been surrounded by bountiful abundance only to be able to talk about scarcity?

For Jesus, this is unfathomable.  For Jesus, faith and gratitude go hand in hand.  Scholar Kimberly Long describes the issue thus, “…to ‘have faith’ is to live it, and to live [faith] is to give thanks.  It is living a life of gratitude that constitutes living a life of faith…One might almost say, in fact, that ‘faith’ and ‘gratitude’ are two words for the same thing:  to practice gratitude is to practice faith.”[i]  Some of you may be thinking, “Oh, to be faithful I just have to be thankful?  That’s not so hard!”  But how many of us have started a gratitude journal only to get out of the habit?  How many of us have engaged in the Ignatian practice of closing the day with enumerating the blessings of the day, giving thanks to God, only to slip into watching one more episode of your favorite show or reading one more chapter of a book, only to slip off to sleep before remembering to give thanks?  How many of us have had New Year’s resolutions or Lenten disciplines about gratitude only to drop them after a few weeks?

But here is why gratitude and faith are so intimately connected.  Jesus says at the end of this passage today, “…your faith has made you well.”  Now if we understand faith and gratitude as being synonymous, then Jesus does not mean because the Samaritan believes something he is healed.  He means because the Samaritan has embodied gratitude he has been made well.  But Jesus is not simply referring to being healed of leprosy.  The Samaritan’s life of gratitude has made him whole – has made him “truly and deeply well.”[ii]  C.S. Lewis perhaps captured the relationship of gratitude and wholeness most clearly.  He said, “I noticed how the humblest and at the same time most balanced minds praised most:  while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised least.  Praise almost seems to be inner health made audible.”[iii] 

Of course, this should not be news to us.  Luke’s gospel is always featuring praising.  As one professor explains, “Praising/thanking/blessing/glorifying God is a recurring theme in [Luke’s] writings – from the shepherds in the fields (2.20), to Simeon and Anna at the presentation in the temple (2.28, 38), to witnesses of Jesus’ miracles (5.25, 7.16, 18.43, etc.), to the centurion at the foot of the cross (23.47), and to both Jews and Gentiles who witness the growth of the church in Acts (4.21, 11.18, 13.48, etc.).  It seems, therefore, that Luke recounts this story not to distinguish one leper from the others but to emphasize the proper response to any act of grace:  thanks and praise to God.”[iv]

Luckily for you, Hickory Neck actually grounds you in praise every Sunday.  When we celebrate the Eucharistic feast, the celebrant says, “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God,” and you respond, “It is right to give him thanks and praise.” [or in the case of Rite I, we say, It is meet and right so to do.]  And then the celebrant affirms your words, saying, “It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.”[v]  [“It is very meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we should at all times, and in all places, give thanks unto thee, O Lord, holy Father, almighty, everlasting God.]   In fact, the entire Eucharist Prayer is also referred to as the “Great Thanksgiving.” Our whole purpose of gathering on Sundays is to enter into praise of God – and as Luke tells us, we do that to make our beings whole – to make our beings truly and deeply well. 

And because we know doing something out of habit can make us forget why we are doing what we are doing, this month we enter into what we call stewardship season – or perhaps what should be called gratitude season.  This month we will be talking about the bountiful goodness we all experience in this community – the ways in which Hickory Neck is a blessing to us, the ways in which Hickory Neck feeds and shapes our faith lives, and the ways in which Hickory Neck helps us be a blessing to others.  In this month of praise and thanksgiving, we will be talking about how to make our praise tangible:  how the gift of our time, the offering of our talents, and the presentation of our financial giving might be acts of praise and gratitude.  This community has been a place where most of us have experienced transformative healing and wholeness.  Our invitation is to follow the example of the Samaritan and let our acts of gratitude become reflections of how Hickory Neck is helping us be truly and deeply well.  Amen.    

[i] Kimberly Bracken Long, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 166.

[ii] Long, 166.

[iii] As quoted by John M. Buchanan, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 165.

[iv] Oliver Larry Yarbrough, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 169.

[v] BCP, 361.

On Solitude, Gratitude, and Advent…

01 Wednesday Dec 2021

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Photo credit: https://www.horizonviewhealth.com/favorite-autumn-walks/

This Thanksgiving was a bit different for us.  Instead of making a drive, or having family come to us, the four of us had a quiet day punctuated by a traditional meal on the family China.  When I kept referring to Thanksgiving Dinner, even my children protested, “What’s the big deal – it’s just lunch!”  As an extrovert who has spent a lot of the last almost two years with these three other people, I felt a sense of absence for all the people with whom I have enjoyed this traditional day.  But as I watched my beloved introvert revel in the quiet, I began to see a peace among these four people who have come to deepen our trust and love for one another during this pandemic (even if that love is sometimes expressed in short tempers and bickering). 

I suspect we were not alone in our “new normal” Thanksgiving.  Many people from our church community had similar arrangements – couples who stayed home, four neighbors who came together in their “aloneness,” singletons who found joy over Zoom calls.  Even those who gathered in smaller groups commented on the quietness of the day – and a kind of gratitude that can only come from scarcity – scarcity of community, of gathering, of all things normal. 

For me, it was the perfect way to segue into Advent, a similar season of hushed quietness.  As the world whirls around us, we pull back, quietly preparing our homes, knowing the uncertainty of these times, and being grateful for every moment of comfort in this season of waiting.  That’s why I enjoy the Advent practice called “AdventWord.” – a visual way to meditate on a daily word throughout Advent.  It gives me a chance to scroll back through old pictures or turn my gaze to the world around me and snap something anew.  It is a solo, quiet practice that stirs creativity, gratitude, and hope.

What are you doing this Advent to set time apart?  How are you struggling to set time apart?  Maybe you can only find literal moments of peace.  Maybe you can squeeze out a half hour a day.  Maybe you can daily confess your desire for such a practice to the God who sees you in all your commitments.  Whatever you do this Advent, know that you have the support and love of a community who sees you too, and holds on to a desire for peace and comfort for you in this season.

On Shielding and Sharing Joy…

17 Wednesday Nov 2021

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Photo credit: https://www.facebook.com/episcopalian/photos/keep-watch-dear-lord-with-those-who-work-or-watch-or-weep-this-night-and-give-yo/10155444636122925/

This month at Youth Group, before we began our closing prayer, the leader asked us each to name one good thing that had happened in the last week.  Immediately, the brows of each person in the room (adults included) furrowed as we tried to think back about something good in a sea of busyness.  Some of us struggled to remember anything good.  Others immediately burst forth with a fun thing they had gotten to do.  Some shyly shared an accomplishment for which they were proud.  And some were more abstract, like the beauty of the fall foliage.

I was struck by how each one of us in the room had to think quite hard about something good happening in our lives. I do not think we struggled because there is nothing good.  I think we struggled because our brains, or maybe our culture, has wired us to do the opposite – to complain about all the things going wrong, to see only the imperfections in life or in ourselves, to be discouraged by all that could be better in our circles.  A heart of gratitude or joy takes work.  Some of us come by gratitude and joy naturally, but most of us have been enculturated to see where there is want.  That’s why one of our favorite prayers from Compline has a line in its petitions to God for God to “shield the joyous.”[i] 

As we approach Thanksgiving Day next week, I wonder if this year you are still struggling to find the joy.  Maybe you still cannot gather safely with family, maybe you are worried about the safety of the children or the vulnerable in your family, or maybe you are just weary from this time of pandemic.  I suspect many of us are feeling critical of the imperfect and are having a hard time holding on to the perfect(ly good enough). 

My prayer for you this week is that God shields your joy.  But I invite you to consider partnering with God in this endeavor.  Each day until Thanksgiving Day, before you drift off to sleep, think back to one thing for which you grateful, that gave you joy, or was just a good moment.  The goodness does not have to be big or creative.  Start with something basic.  While you engage in this prayerful practice, I will be praying that God shields your joy, and I hope you will share your joy with someone else – so they can be shielded by God too. 

[i] Book of Common Prayer, 134.

On the Power of Every Perfect Gift…

06 Wednesday Oct 2021

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Photo credit: https://www.tens.org/

Ministry is a funny endeavor because you can have a to-do list planned for any given day, but between drop-ins, unexpected calls, or pastoral events, your to-do list gets completely set aside.  Yesterday I had one of those days where I left the office thinking, “Man!  I only got a couple of things done today!  I’m so frustrated!”  But then I remembered that even though I personally only got a couple of things done, my staff picked up a lot of the floating to-do items and together, we actually got a lot of things done.  Suddenly a seemingly wasted day felt like a day of accomplishment.

The last two years have been years of transition for our staff.  A full-time priest left the staff right as COVID hit and was not replaced.  This past summer, we had an administrative staffing gap.  Suddenly, if things were getting done, they really were dependent upon my personally accomplishing them – which is never a sustainable model.  It was not until yesterday that a wave of gratitude overwhelmed me as I realized how much can be achieved when you are a part of team.

This week, we will kick off our stewardship season at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church, whose theme is Every Perfect Gift.  My experience this week made me remember how even our giving to church is a team effort.  We work hard to do our part – giving a tithe or other generous financial gift, our time, and our talent.  But our part does not sustain the work of ministry.  In order to reflect the fullness of the body of Christ, each of us needs to give Every Perfect Gift – those parts that make the whole better. 

As you think about your giving to the church, maybe your finances are making it such that you cannot give as much as you would like.  Or maybe you are giving in earnest, but feel like you are pulling more weight than others.  Or maybe you are taking a hard look at your budget and time and are considering how you can do more this year.  Just remember two things:  1) your gift is perfect and is a reflection of your gratitude to God for your many blessings – making your giving sacred; and 2) you are a part of a community where everyone does their part – where we all make an impact on our community because when we all share our every perfect gift, our collective effort is stunning.  You are in my prayers this year as you consider how you might share your perfect gifts with Hickory Neck!

On Finding Blessings among the Curses…

10 Wednesday Mar 2021

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Photo credit: Troy Mendez

Last week, a seminary classmate sent an email to a group of six of us who had travelled to Myanmar on a mission trip while in seminary.  The trip was a powerful, multiple week trip – for us as individuals, for us as a team (one of our members passed away a couple of years after seminary), and, when we returned, for our relationships with the Burmese students at the seminary.  The experience of that trip forever changed the dynamics between us – there are inside jokes that lead to ribbing; we know each other in ways that only fellow travelers can, leading to belly-laughs and understanding sighs too deep for words; and our connection to the Anglican Church in Myanmar and our spiritual experiences there created a brotherhood and sisterhood that is difficult to articulate. 

So, when the toughly-won democracy crumbled a few weeks ago in Myanmar, we all watched in horror.  The call to gather from my classmate was certainly an opportunity for us to catch up, but more importantly for us to pray – to pray for our Burmese classmates, the brothers and sisters in Christ we met there, and the countless people who simply want to live their lives free of the brutality of a military junta.  Over the course of this year, I have complained more times than I can count about the amount of time I spent on Zoom.  But as the six of us gathered virtually from around the country to tell stories, to laugh, to mourn, and to pray, I confess to you, I have never been more grateful for a technological tool.  Even in that virtual space, we were able to find the rhythm of a group established fourteen years ago, and slow down enough to put the needs of Myanmar above our own.

As we work to vaccinate our country and as churches begin to regather again, I find myself once again grateful for the ways God has made a way in the wilderness.  And although I will be thrilled to see people in person again, I am glad we will still have technological advances available to us – to facilitate community, care, and compassion.  Not once in the years since we left seminary has our mission team managed to get together in person.  But with technology, we were able to create a virtual space of real connection between us, and, perhaps more importantly, a place where God could move among us and beyond us.  I would never wish this pandemic on any of us, but I remain astounded at the way God has used the gifts God has given us to facilitate the spreading of the Good News. 

One year into this pandemic, I give thanks for the ways in which technology has facilitated fellowship, formation, worship, and pastoral care.  I wonder what graces this pandemic has gifted you over this last year.  What ways has necessity inspired blessedness?  As you reflect this week, I invite you to join me in offering gratitude for God’s grace in the midst of a very dark year. 

Please continue to keep Myanmar in your prayers as they struggle for the restoration of democracy, for the safety of innocent people being brutalized and disappeared, and for the encouragement and protection to keep fighting for justice.

On the Awkward and the Sacred…

14 Wednesday Oct 2020

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Phot Credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; permission to reuse required

One of the disadvantages of leading virtual worship is that you do not get to participate in worship.  Of course, I can always go back and watch later, but I never get the “live” experience of watching prayers.  That all changed this week.  My seminary held their annual Convocation yesterday.  It was entirely virtual, with webinars, Zoom meetings, breakout rooms, and Zoom worship.  Our worship at Hickory Neck Church is via Facebook Live, so this was my first time worshiping with a community via Zoom, and I was curious to see how it would feel.

My initial response was dissatisfaction.  Although I could see there were about 50 people gathered, once slides were used on the shared screen, I could only see six people without constantly scrolling.  Although the sermon was close to my normal experiences with preaching, watching faces that seemed spaced out was a bit odd (Do the faces look that spaced out when I preach??).  And of course, when I joined in speaking the italicized words (those words “the people” are supposed to say), because we were all on mute, I felt like only the officiant and I were participating.

But that was just the initial reaction.  As I said more and more of the unison readings, I felt less and less awkward.  And even though I could only see a few faces, I loved knowing I was not alone in the worship experience.  And as I became less paranoid about what my own video screen was showing, I was able to relax into my chair, and transport myself to an imaginary pew.  The worship experience was not the same – but it was also familiar, human, holy, and lovely.

Looking back on that experience, I want to offer major kudos to all who are “making it work” with virtual church.  I know it is not the same.  I know it is hard staying positive when all you want is something more familiar.  I am so grateful for all of you who are sticking with it, making the awkward become sacred.  I hope that you are having moments of grace and blessing.  And I also hope you are noticing all the names (and faces if you’re Zooming) you do not recognize:  those folks who find it harder to harken the doors of the church than to hop on Facebook for worship – whether when you are live, or at 10:00 pm, as you watch the archived video while you ease off to sleep.   This may not be church as we have always known it.  But we are also fashioning something new, flexible, and creative, while rooting ourselves in the traditions we know and love that ground us.  This week, you have my gratitude for all the ways you are staying open to the Holy Spirit.  And if you have not found a place to experience the Spirit, I’ve got just the place for you!!

On Seeing Goodness…

30 Wednesday Sep 2020

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Photo credit: http://www.dirtyandthirty.com/dirt-of-the-day/finding-good-world/

After six months of waiting, planning, praying, and organizing, my parish finally held our first in-person socially distanced worship service.  We had prepared our members and guests for how different Socially Distanced (SD) Worship would be, even producing an instructional video.  And when the day finally came, our volunteers were amazing – sanitizing, directing, monitoring, and executing a beautiful morning of worship. 

I have been reflecting on the experience of finally being back in the worship space with other people, and I realized what we have been saying all along was true:  it was not the same as worship before the pandemic.  Certainly, the service was familiar:  the liturgy, beautiful music, the physical patterns of standing and sitting, and the reception of communion.  But the little things were different:  the inability to physically embrace or shake hands (something that felt sorely needed after such a long separation), the absence of touch during the Eucharist (an act that has always felt intimately and sacredly physical), the general tentativeness of all gathered (the desire to keep each other safe creating an underlying tension).  We had said SD Worship would be different, and it was.

But SD Worship was also good.  You could feel the palpable relief of everyone to finally be back in the space we love.  I watched as our deacon became much more animated while preaching with people in the room.  I heard sounds I had not heard in the last six months – a familiar lector reading the lesson, the organ and a violin making an otherwise spoken service feel whole, and voices responding in a room that has been mostly empty on Sundays.  It was definitely not the same.  But it was certainly good.

One of the things that has impressed me during this pandemic is the ability of parishioners, neighbors, and friends to see goodness.  When a health crisis occurs, in the stress of restarting schools virtually, in the inconveniences of wearing masks and staying home, I still encounter people who can name goodness in this time.  My invitation for you this week is to find something good and holy about this most unusual time each day.  Try to imagine the way God responds in creation at the end of each day, saying, “It was good.”  What is good in your day today?  Where are the moments of grace, the occasions of gratitude, the sacred for you this week?  I hope you will share them, as your moment of goodness may be what someone needs to help them see goodness in their life too.