Pastor Don's Ponderings

 "The desert and the dry land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom like the crocus . . . The will see the Lord's glory, the splendor of our God." Isaiah 35:1, 2c Most days, I have only to walk in the house and it becomes apparent that our good friend, Mellanie Portz, has been by. Usually the tell-tale sign is a flower from her garden in a simple bottle or small vase, sometimes it is something on which to nibble and yet at other times it is a mention of something which she has read and is recommending for us to consider. Always the gift. Always the smile. Always the thoughtfulness. This particular vestige of a recent visit was sitting on our counter when I arrived home after a long day at the office. Maybe I am deluding myself, but in my heart I believe that many folk imagine that Pastors just sit in their offices all day, read scripture, play their favorite music, consider the lilies of the valley, ponder the open tomb, then prepare for next Sunday inspir...

Sometimes it seems that our American culture has become so obsessed with rooting out the worst seen in each other that we have lost our own sense of the good God has placed in each one of God's own children. It is as if the Kingdom can only be that which we approve it as being. When Jesus speaks in parables concerning the Kingdom of God in the Gospel according to Matthew, He teaches about the tiny mustard seed, the beautiful pearl, the hidden treasure, the yeast . . . and of a Sower who casts seeds about willy-nilly, and of a Landowner willing to allow the weeds to grow up along with the wheat until the day of harvest. In telling His parables, I wonder if Jesus ever took into account the possibility that the created would one day weary of searching for the plantings of the Creator? That rather than seek the mustard seed we would only be happy with the full-grown bush? That instead of treasuring the found pearl we would insist on the full jewelry store? That instead of committing ou...

Do you remember how deep and foreboding the woods could be at night? Or maybe even a single tree, just when the light from the crescent moon illuminated the branches from the odd angle? Do you recall the sound of the coyotes howling into the darkness far down the field? Or the sound of raccoons fighting for dominance in the creek bed? Can you feel the tingle run up your spine when it felt like a hot breath breathing down your neck from behind as you walked, then ran towards the house with only the light in the faraway windows to guide you home? Or the goose pimples which covered your body as the wind, before the night rain, swept you towards safety? The words, "Do not be afraid", are said to be in the Bible 365 times. Yet, there are times when the last thing I am hearing in my parental/pastoral ears is, "Do not be afraid". Maybe it is not so much now, now that the woods and I have become companions, the various night sounds of animals give me comfort and wi...

When my 94 year old Dad tells stories about the Depression years and the time of rationing during WWII he inevitably ends up highlighting memory after memory of how people took care of people, family took care of family, and communities took care of each other. Yes, he talks about not having much, about how little money and resources were readily available and about how you made something out of nothing at all. Everything was kept to be reused in another way, nothing was thrown away and time was taken to mend, repair and restore . . . 'disposable' just was not an option. Yet, more than anything else of which he speaks regarding those times, Dad speaks of relationships: parents and children, neighbors and strangers, those who had something sharing with those who didn't . . . and the list goes on and on. Those were times which galvanized communities and families, times which shaped the collective spirit and imagination of nations and cultures, times which forged strength...

On my way to work this morning I called my brother, Larry, to find out what is going on at the family farm. It was one of those moments when, as soon as he spoke, I knew he had a cold. You could almost hear and see the sinus' dripping through the cell connections and he sounded horribly stuffed up . . . and he was walking towards the shop as he talked with me: They are working on the planter today. Rain, sleet, snow, burning sunshine, foggy mornings, there is always something to be done on the farm and rarely, rarely, is there time for sickness of any kind. This is the mindset into which I grew up on our family dairy farm: No matter how you feel, the cows still have to be milked, the heifers and calves have to be fed, the chores need to be completed and, oh if that isn't enough during this time of the year, there are always fences to be fixed, trees to be trimmed in the pasture, equipment needing repair before Spring and book work to be done to facilitate everything else. ...