Things of Significance

Didn’t make it to the coffee shop today. I stopped at Dairy Queen and got lunch, sandwich and a Moolatte, and headed to the park. I found a table under a tree near the pond and I’ll camp out here until children arrive to destroy the serenity. The natural sounds are like a symphony surrounding me. This is tons better than the sterility of the coffee shop—though I will probably appreciate it come the change of season.

So what inspiration drifts into my consciousness as I sit here? Whoa, I didn’t realize there was a working train track right near here! An old man just ambled by with his poodle. I wonder if he was a widower. How many little old men get stuck with poodles after their wives die?

I’m not near enough to the water to hear it, but I love watching the wind push it around. A fish just jumped, creating new rings in the patterns. The wind is really blowing today, not a gentle breeze but gusty. If this were winter it wouldn’t be a good wind, but today, in August, it makes the day more pleasant. There isn’t much humidity today. Is it really August?

A few butterflies have floated by. Are they butterflies or moths, a friend planted the seed of wonder in my mind. Her beautiful pictures of both inspire such awe in me. Her eye and steady hand are God’s instruments—and then the creative things she does to the images. The only word I can think of is amazing.

Sitting here by the water, soaking in the nature around me, thinking about my friend and imagining how her fingers might be itching to be clicking instead of sitting at a desk right now, I wonder. I wonder if I could do this all day. I have been so driven in my work, consumed by being productive. Sitting here now I wonder if it really was about productivity, or was there just a need to look busy.

I sat with that for a few minutes and here’s what I’ve decided: I’m tired. I don’t want to just be busy. I want more than just being productive. If I have to have a job, I want it to be something I can be passionate about. I want it to be significant. Is that where the draw to write is coming from? Do I have anything significant to say?
Can I tell you a story about grace?
Can I tell you a story about friendship?
Can I tell you a story about forgiveness?
Can I tell you a story about restoration?

I was the pastor at South Union Mennonite Church from June 1999 until October 2001. I was their interim pastor. My job was to help them with the healing process and get them ready to call a full-time pastor. This was no easy task as they were terribly wounded and reeling from going through four splits in three years. Rather than deal with things, people just left so nothing changed or improved.

A mediation process was begun prior to my coming. I was empowered to make changes that were going to chafe the staunchly unmovable. It was such a wonderful experience for me. I had a freedom to do things because I knew I wouldn’t be there forever. I was also not no Mennonite so some of my mistakes and exuberance were overlooked and even tolerated and dare I say enjoyed!

But a dark cloud came into my life and I made bad choices and ended up breaking the laws of God and man. I turned myself In for a horrible crime. I quickly resigned and separated myself from the church to spare them from as much of the embarrassment as possible. After I finished my time in jail I engaged in a process of healing with the congregation. First I met with the heads of the congregation and district leadership and a mediation board. Then I came before the elders to ask for forgiveness. It was a tearful meeting. On Maundy Thursday, my husband and I attended the church’s observance of communion and foot washing. The outpouring of love from the people was genuine and healing for us all.

There have been other moments in my journey where I have experienced moments of healing and restoration. A few years back I was interviewing with board members of a ministry that works with people who struggle with issues related to their felony convictions. One of the members asked if I had been restored. It was a good question. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that restoration is a process and I’m not sure it’s completed this side of heaven.