My mom died and now a dear friend is dying of cancer and in time a loved one will be robbed inch by inch of the ability to walk and speak and eat and breathe, and I’m powerless to stop any of it from happening and so I’m sad, the kind of sad that leaves me not knowing what to blog about because right now being gay isn’t all that important to me. Simply being human has my full attention. I don’t care all that much today that “the church” condemns me as a lesbian and I don’t have any energy to spare trying to convince them that God loves me just as I am as I know that God does. And in this moment my first concern isn’t that this country is clueless that marriage equality is simply a matter of justice and fairness or that much of the rhetoric that fuels the opposition is nothing less than a weapon leveled at the hearts of gay and lesbian people. These things will be of considerable importance to me on another day but right now my mind and my heart are absorbed in those I’ve lost and those I will lose, the fragile condition of being mortal flesh and blood beings on an equally fragile earth, and what I will do with my life in whatever time I’m given that will make some kind of difference in this world. All of this leaves me hungry for more silence in my life than for more words.

Loving God, having faith, and walking hand in hand with Jesus and God’s people didn’t make us immune or invulnerable to all that life encompasses. We will be sad. We will know pain. We will suffer. There are days when even the most holy among us will find their greatest comfort hiding out in bed with the covers over their head rather than on their knees in prayer, and there are days when tears and groanings of the heart speak more of being God’s own than all the words of faith and hope we can gather and dispense. God made us for joy and God made us for sorrow. Sweet and sour. Rain and sun. Light and dark. All are part of this life and all are a part of being human and being alive among others just like us.

So this is the place where I am right now and while it doesn’t feel all that great, it’s really okay. I cherish that there are people in my life who are so remarkable that the thought of losing them breaks my heart. I’m grateful for the reminder that life is so uncertain that tomorrow may never come so that I find more appreciation and purpose for this day and this hour.

I’m sad but I’m not paralyzed by it. Today I curled up in bed for the bigger part of the day and it was only when D returned home that I felt up to venturing into the world with her at my side. But Saturday is another day and so tomorrow I’ll sort through the magnificient abundance of the farmer’s market in the morning, make caramel apples in the afternoon, and finish the day at a spaghetti dinner among my church family. When Sunday comes I’ll continue on by assisting at the communion table before going to the bed of my friend later in the day to tell her how much she means to me, what her life is teaching me, and that I will always speak her name gratefully and tell of her faith and spirit and courage to those who never had the chance to know her for themselves. And then at night as I have in all the nights that will follow I’ll go to bed praying for my loved one with ALS, asking that God will grant comfort and that whatever the length of life would be that it would be a life filled with memories of love and grace that would linger on long after a final goodbye on this side of there.

And so….if this post finds you in your own time of sadness or if your heart is breaking or your tomorrow seems uncertain, you aren’t alone. I’m here with you. I suspect others are too. We’re together, you and I and us and them and God and together we’ll get through this time and until we do we’ll look for joy where we can find it because even here there is beauty. There is grace. There is love. There is hope. Even here. Even now.

If during the last two weeks D and I had encountered condemnation or rejection of our relationship from them I would have told you, but that’s not what happened and so it seems only right and fair that I tell you what did.

For the last two weeks D and I have experienced nothing but genuine warmth and kindness from everyone around us. In the hospital waiting room as we sat with family and life-long friends of my mom. In the family home as we met with Mom’s pastor to begin preparations for the events that would celebrate her life. As we gathered with family and a small circle of close friends at Mom’s burial. As we mingled among several hundred people at the reception that followed the memorial service. In all these circumstances there were no awkward moments. No one turned their back to D. No one avoided eye contact. No one stumbled for words when introductions were made.

As it should be D was treated as part of the family from start to finish. She sat among my siblings and their spouses every time we talked together before and after Mom’s death. She sat beside me at the burial and at the memorial service, and when my extended family gathered on the church platform at the end of Mom’s memorial service, D stood among us. At times when grief overcame me, D would hold me in an embrace or gently rest her hand on mine and no one said anything.

All these people are related to me by either blood or by faith. I know what they believe and I know how deeply held and genuine their convictions are in such things. And yet, in a time of shared sorrow they were able to put it all aside to extend themselves in compassion and grace. They didn’t toss us scraps from the table by doing the least they felt they had to do in such a time but instead they gave of their best selves, allowing compassion and grace to lead them.

They behaved as Christians who seek to follow the example of Christ’s life should behave but even though they were doing as they should that doesn’t mean I’m any less grateful that they allowed grace to prevail. In doing so they gave D and I a wonderful gift; allowing us the space to grieve and to mourn and to seek comfort in the peace of God and in the care of one another. They were generous in spirit to us and I will love them forever for honoring the time and the occasion by putting any issues they had to the side.

There are stories every day of Christians who choose another way; who default to condemnation over compassion. Today I wanted you to hear another story; to remind you that God’s Spirit is moving among all of us. Don’t rule anyone out. Don’t give up hope in anyone. There’s no limiting what the grace of God can do.

I’m grateful Mom’s passing was gentle and without pain. I’m grateful that along with my brothers and sister I had a couple days to tell her I loved her over and over, to hold her hand, and to say goodbye even though goodbye was the last thing any of us wanted to say. I’m grateful that Mom’s spirit has now joined with God’s and all those loved ones, including my dad, who have gone before. I’m grateful I had my mom for 52 years of my life. I’m grateful for her love, for her humor, for her strength, for her thoughtfulness, and the steady witness of her faith. I’m grateful for the example of a life well-lived before God and others.

All I know to do to move through this time is to hold both gratitude and grief together and to remember that “for everything there is a season.”

And in all seasons, even in hardship and loss, God is present still.

I’ll be taking another week away from blogging as my family and I prepare for my mom’s memorial service. Thank you for understanding, and for all those who have held me in your prayers and surrounded me with comforting words during this past week, my heartfelt thanks.

✛ ✛ ✛ ✛ ✛ ✛ ✛

March 1, 1924 – October 13, 2009

Virginia Mae Cadonau, 85, went to be with the Lord on October 13, 2009 surrounded by three generations of family who will always love her and be grateful for the honor of calling her Mom, Grandma, and Great Grandma.

Virginia Mae Wilson was born March 1, 1924 in Granada, Colorado and spent her early years in Washington State along with her brothers Duane, Willard, and Darrell. She met her husband, Carl Henry Cadonau at Portland Foursquare Church where they were both active in the church band. They were married on May 3, 1944 at Harvard Memorial Chapel in Cambridge, Massachusetts where Carl was stationed during WWII. She deeply missed Carl since his passing in June 2004 and cherished a life-time of memories they had together.

Virginia was devoted to living out her Christian faith within her household and through involvement in church life, serving for ten years as the president of the Portland chapter of the UFW (United Foursquare Women). Along with her husband, Virginia invested her heart and energy into nurturing the lives and faith of young people by teaching the High School class at their church. They then went on in the early 1970’s to spend the following decade teaching some of those same young people in the College Career Class. During those years Virginia established a close relationship with many of the young people by sending them notes of encouragement, listening to their joys and troubles over a corner table in a restaurant, and never shying away from giving them straightforward motherly advice softened by genuine compassion. She remained in regular contact with many of her “kids” over the years who were counted among those who filled the hospital waiting room in the last hours before her passing. To these she will lovingly be remembered as Mom C.

She will also be remembered by a circle of individuals that extended far beyond her immediate family and cherished life-long friends for the greeting cards they regularly received from her to mark every celebration and hardship of life. There were also the countless notes sent for no reason other than to offer a word of encouragement in someone’s day and let them know they were being thought of and loved. This part of her life was only one example of Virginia’s gracious spirit and the selfless thoughtfulness that touched so many lives.

Virginia loved spending time on the Oregon Coast. She was an avid reader who always had several books going at once and who never failed to read the newspaper from start to finish every day. She enjoyed reading through emails from her family and friends, early evening dinners with her sister-in-law Anita Birkland, and she considered ice cream an essential part of life.

Virginia is lovingly remembered by her children, Carl Cadonau Jr., Randall Cadonau, Barbara Deeming and Anita Cadonau-Huseby, their spouses, and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren who will greatly miss her.

A Memorial Service will be held at 11:00 a.m., Friday, October 23, 2009, at Portland Foursquare Church. In lieu of flowers, donations in Virginia’s name may be directed to Portland Foursquare Church to support the outreach ministry of “weJourney.”

Blessings,
Anita

Anyway, here’s something I’ve been wanting to share with you . . .

During the week that followed my surgery I had the alarm clock on my iPhone set to ring every three hours, day and night, as a reminder to take my pain medication. It was annoying to have it go off during the night but when given the choice to be awakened from sleep by a ringing alarm or throbbing pain in my stomach, groin, arms, and legs, I’m going to consistently opt for the alarm. That’s just how clever of a girl I am.

Even after following the same routine for an entire week, when the alarm would go off during the middle of the night, I’d wake up with a start and momentarily be disoriented about where I was and what was going on. I normally don’t wake up all that clear headed to begin with but add in a hearty dose of pain medication and I turn into a drooling semi-comatose cotton head.

But after a few “deer in headlights” seconds I’d remember. I was in our living room in a rented hospital bed. I’d just had surgery to remove excess skin that remained following my ten year journey to lose nearly 170 pounds.

I’d remember all that but rather than having those memories clear up my confusion, I’d end up feeling all the more unhinged and anxious because I couldn’t believe that any of it had really happened. The evidence was all there in the creaking hospital bed and my aching body but still, I doubted reality.

I’d longed for all this so much of my life and had given up hope so many times that it would ever be more than an unfulfilled fantasy of mine that now that it had come to pass I simply couldn’t take it in. There I would be, in the middle of the night, covered in suture tape and gauze, my hands passing back and forth over my now flat belly (don’t even get me started on my adorable new belly button!), and in a whisper I’d be chanting to myself, “This is real, this is real, this is real.” I’d lay there saying it over and over again until at last the truth would sink into me and when it did, each and every time, without exception, I’d begin weeping and my chanting would turn to a prayer, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I’ve found myself doubting reality at other times besides the middle of the night when doubting seems to come more readily. When I see my reflection in a store window I do a double-take to be certain it’s my reflection. When I hold up a pair of new jeans fresh from the dryer I genuinely can’t believe they’re mine or that I could ever fit inside them even though I wore them them just the day before. When I step on the bathroom scales and see a number that hasn’t been there since I was in grade school I question the accuracy of the scales until I step off and back on again and the same number appears. And often during the day, I say to myself, to my wife, or my God, “I can’t believe this is my life and I get to live it,” and when I say that I’m not just referring to the size of my jeans but all the gifts of life that fill my days.

There are exceptions to every rule and to every saying, like the one that goes, “If something is too good to be true, then it probably is.” My recent experience is an exception. I’m at a healthy weight in a body that at long last fits me. As hard as it is for me to believe my dream has come true.

This has all caused me wonder what other things there might be that I, that we, don’t believe that are just as real. What other facts in the here and now have we diminished by relegating them to being nothing more than dreams we wish could be true but might never be? What else falls under the category of being too good to be true but in truth really is?

• I am a beloved child of God in whom God delights.
• I am held in the presence of God every moment of my life.
• I am fully forgiven.
• I am worthy of being loved.
• My sexuality, along with every other aspect of my being, is a gift from God.
• My life is precious.
• I have God-given talents and gifts that can bring life and healing into the world.

In faith, all these are true and present realities. God’s love for you is as real as the chair on which you sit. God’s presence is as near to you as your own beating heart. That you are fully forgiven is as certain as the setting and rising of the sun each day. All this is what our faith has taught us. All this is part of the message that Jesus came to bring us. So why do we continue to struggle in believing what is true? How often do we question and doubt that it’s all too good to be true, that it can’t be true because we want it too much, or that it can’t be true because if it were we wouldn’t even know how to receive such a good and wonderful reality into our lives? Why is it that we can hold a thousand negative, condemning thoughts in our heads while we continue to struggle in holding onto a few life-giving overarching truths in our hearts?

I’m beginning to think that maybe we all might benefit by setting our alarm clocks a little more often so that when they go off we can consider whatever truth it is that keeps slipping through our fingers and chant in a whisper to ourselves “This is real, this is real, this is real, ” and that we would keep on chanting until the truth of God’s love and of our worth soaks through to the core of our being, so that our chanting and our lives would become a prayer of “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

What truth is the reason that has your alarm clock ringing?

If you’ve been following my drug-hazed meanderings over on Facebook you already know I’m moving along rapidly in healing from my recent surgery.  This entire process has been a phenomenal and surprising experience in my life. I went into these two elective post-weight loss surgeries for the purpose of having excess skin removed only to discover along the way the profound impact it was having on my spiritual life. What all that means will no doubt filter into the content of a few upcoming posts.

So for the rest of the day I’m going to continue to dig my way through the pile of emails that have accumulated over these past two weeks and will be back to posting tomorrow.

Stay tuned….

So in advance, thank you. Now pray away!

As I’ve already mentioned I probably won’t be blogging for the next two weeks while I tend to my recovery and enjoy the full benefit of pain medication. If my last turn on the operating table is any indication the coming days will primarily consist of equal parts  napping and whining, and in case you wonder, I do both extraordinarily well. That’s just the way I roll. Ask my beloved which she will confirm with a little more enthusiasm than I would ever deem appropriately necessary.

During my time away I want to encourage you to check out just a few of my favorite bloggers if you aren’t already following them.

You’ll never run out of great stuff to read and reflect on over at Wake Up and Live, Susan’s take on the Scriptures, on the Church and all things justice-oriented relating to the GLBTQ community are refreshing, provoking, and engaging.

Originally called The Closeted Pastor, in recent weeks Cecilia has renamed her blog The [Un] Closeted Pastor. You want to see a pastor’s heart? You want to watch someone dealing with the day to day realities of staying in and coming out? You want to see an example of courage that will blow your socks off and your shoes along with them? You have any interest at all in seeing God’s faithfulness blast open someone’s life? Then spend this last year following Cecilia’s journey beginning in January 2009, and don’t you dare skip ahead to May. I’m serious. Don’t even think about it!

I heart John Shore. Seriously. Never met him in person, never talked to him on the phone, but if I had a thing for straight guys he’d make the first cut. I like his writing, his humor, his adoring love for his wife, his glee in rocking the boat with hot topics like “the gays,” and a life of faith full of questions shored by rock-solid commitment. So read his blog and prepare to laugh and cry and scratch your head in bewilderment. And if he says something you don’t understand, that’s okay. He ends up stumping everyone at one time or another. Oh, and if you bake cookies, don’t tell him. Please trust me on this. The man won’t stop pestering you until you snap like a pretzel stick and pull out the flour bag.

If I could draw I’d create cartoon panels like Jon over at The Ongoing Adventures of ASBO Jesus, but drawing is just one more thing I can’t do like yodeling, neurosurgery, and laundry. If every picture tells a story, then every cartoon of Jon’s preaches a sermon.

And then there’s a site I just discovered developed by Kori Ashton called Les Be Pure. Just how much do I love that name!!! I’m still looking over all the content myself but in what I’ve already seen I’m thrilled to no end to find another woman out there boldly declaring the familiar refrain of God’s love for all and encouraging gay and lesbian Christians to live out their faith 24/7. While Kori and I are saying many of the same things, there’s one big difference between us . . .that girl can sing! But can she polka? I doubt it!

Anyway, my dear friends, that should be more than enough to keep you off the streets and out of trouble but if you end up with too much time on your hands don’t forget to hang around here and read through the archives.  You’re invited and encouraged to add comments to any of them, just remember it’s going to be a few days, after the drug-haze has lifted, before I’ll be able to stumble back here to approve any pending comments.

Be well. Be whole.

You’re loved. By God. By me. No joke.

You really are.

I went to church this morning and ran a few errands in the afternoon but the rest of the day was spent here, praying that those who needed assurance or comfort or hope would join us, and then I spent time reading and responding to the messages some of you left about what you encountered at the table. I heard from you here in the comments section of the communion post, on the SisterFriends forum, in email, and over on Facebook and with every story you told I wept a little more. I’m so glad you came to the table. I’m overjoyed this meant something to so many of you. This is one of those times so full of God that my heart wants to cry out in thankfulness, “Okay God. This was one of the most wonderful things you’ve ever done and so I’m never going to ask you for anything ever again because what you did today was more than enough.” But of course I don’t say that out loud to God because I always want more and even if I said it, I’m pretty sure God wouldn’t believe me anyway.

So I’ve moved through the day with tears in my eyes and a heart full of gratitude that so many of you came to the table and when you did Grace was there waiting for you. Do yourself a favor if you haven’t already and take a few minutes to read the communion stories that are found at the end of the communion post and here is something written by one of the women over at the SisterFriends Forum that I share here with her generous permission. I just want you to know the awesome company you were in when you went to the table.

As an altar server in my church, my duties include assisting in the preparation of the sanctuary and the altar for the Holy Eucharist. So, this morning for our SisterFriends Community Communion, I prepared my dining table with the same love and reverence as I do at church. I lit the candles, placed a few special items on the table (Bible/Book of Common Prayer, Anglican prayer beads, desk labyrinth, incense, laptop), and set the loaf of bread and cup of wine in the centre. And, after saying a brief opening prayer, I started the service.

The order of service was simple and very moving. Eyes closed, prayer beads in hand, I was surprised to feel tears rolling down my face as I lifted up my own voice – holy, holy, holy – during the song ‘Beautiful’. (My singing voice is so awful that I usually make my dear poodle cry – but not this morning. God was in this place. And even my pooch knew it!) I mimicked Anita’s actions during the breaking of the bread and, in remembrance of our Lord, I partook of the loaf and drank the wine. The Holy Eucharist has become very special to me over the past few years particularly and knowing that we were all sharing in this sacred sacrament together made it even more so.

After the service was complete, I sat there and peacefully transitioned into a time of Centering Prayer, a contemplative practice that I am drawn to. In this form of prayer, a sacred word is gently invoked when the mind starts to wander. Now, I almost always use the same word, but this morning the sacred word that came to me was ‘holy’. (Sound familiar?) I ended with the Lord’s Prayer and a period of reflective silence. Then, as I do at church, I cleared away the table, drank the remaining consecrated wine, reserved the remaining consecrated bread, blew out the candles and put away all of my special items.

Then, I went to Mass at my church. I wasn’t serving on the altar this morning because I was playing in the band, but we sit upstairs in the organ loft which gives me the best view of the altar. When I wasn’t playing, I found myself drawn to the altar table and my heart was filled with such love for our Lord, for Anita for putting together our Community Communion, and all of you, my sisters and brother, in Christ. I don’t know if this will sound weird or not, but as I walked up to the communion rail, I felt all of you there with me. And, as we played the last hymn, ‘Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer’, I blew my saxophone so loudly (apologies to the trumpeter in front of me) in honour of all of you at the part that goes -Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, feed me now and evermore, evermore. Feed me now and evermore! Did you all hear it?

Having never done anything like this before, I didn’t know what to expect. Now, after having participated in the service, all I can say is what an amazingly powerful experience this was, and I feel so blessed to have been able to share in the Community Communion with all of you. This couldn’t have been more perfect. Except next time I think I’ll use a dinner roll instead of the huge multigrain loaf – it was tough trying to break that thing. Anita made it look so easy!

Sorry that this was so long, but I just wanted to share everything! I can’t wait to hear about your experiences too. By the way, here’s a picture of my SisterFriends Community Communion table.

I’ve said this several times already but I want to say it again for the one of you who may have missed it. The Gathering for Communion post will always remain in here in the SisterFriends archive and so anytime you want to go to the table in your home, the post will be there and if you don’t want to go to the table alone, email me. Tell me you’re planning to read the post and take communion in your home and in my own home I will take communion with you. Though we might not be going to the table at the very same moment in time, we’ll still meet there in God’s spirit. You’ll be there, I’ll be there, those who came before us will be there, those who will come after us will be there, God will most certainly be there, and together we’ll all gather around the table and receive the bread and cup of Christ.  Anytime. You just let me know.

And now, let our worship begin!

We Gather Together
.

Anita: …………..God be with you.
Community:…..And also with you.

As I write these words there sits before me a loaf of braided Challah bread and a portion of wine held in a ceramic chalice. I am here and God is here.

And now, a few hours or even days later, you’re reading these words and within your reach rests the bread and cup you’ve prepared. You are there and God is there.

And we are here together for we’ve entered into God’s time as we stand before Christ’s table. Right now we are together, you and I, and all those who have come to the table before us and all those who will one day follow us. What a mystery of our faith, that time and space lose their boundaries for we are brought together as one by the Spirit. Let this be a reality for you as you move through this time. You are not alone. You are at a table with your sisters and brothers in faith, from the first disciples who gathered around the table with Jesus to those who have yet to be born but will like you and I, find their life and meaning before the same bread and the same cup we share now.

Gathered around this table are gay and straight, young and old, male and female. We speak many languages. We have lived different lives. Some of us come to the table in brokenness and despair. Some of us come in confident rejoicing. We come believing and we come doubting. We come with expectations and we come expecting nothing. God’s grace calls to us wherever we are, assuring us that it doesn’t matter how we come to the table, only that we come. No one will be turned away. No one will be unwelcome. There is no one standing in your way at this table. No matter what your experience at other tables has been in the past, no matter what you’ve been told that’s made you stop and turn away from coming to the table, there is room for you at this table. There is a place at this table for you. I don’t invite you to the table. Christ invites you because this table belongs to Him. He provides the meal. He decides who may come. No one else but Christ alone. All that I am doing is inviting you to receive with an open heart the invitation Christ has sent to you this day so that you would say “Yes, I’ll come to Your table. I’ll eat of Your bread and drink of Your cup and receive of Your love.”

Come to the table. All are welcome.

Responsive Prayer

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The following prayer, “A People With Many Secrets” is found in Walter Brueggemann’s book, “Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth.” Please join me in reading this prayer responsively by opening the audio clip below and reading along.

A: You are the God from whom no secret can be hid,
……and we are a people with many secrets,

C: that we want to tell for the sake of our lives,
…..that we dare not tell because they are deep and painful.

A: But they are our secrets…and they count for much;

C: they are our truth…rooted deep in our lives.

A: You are the God of all truth
…..and now we bid you heed our truth,
…..about which we will not bear false witness…

C: The truth of grief unresolved,

A: the truth of pain unacknowledged,

C: the truth of fear too child-like,

A: the truth of hate, as powerful as it is deep,

C: the truth of being taken advantage of,
…..and being used,
…..and being oppressed,
…..and slandered.

A: We trust the great truth of your wondrous love,
…..but we will not sit still for it,
…..until you hear us.

C: Our truth – heard by you – will make us free.

E: So be the God of all truth, even ours,
…..we pray in the name of Jesus,
…..who is your best kept secret of hurt. Amen.

Scripture Reading

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This translation of Psalm 139 comes from “Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness” by Nan C. Merrill. As you meditate on the words of the Psalmist I encourage you to read the passage out loud.

Oh my Beloved, You have searched me
….…..and known me!
You know when I sit down and
……..when I rise up;
….You discern my innermost thoughts.
You find me on the journey and
….….guide my steps:
….You know my strengths and
….….my weaknesses.
Even before words rise up in prayer,
….Lo, You have already heard
….….my heart call.
You encompass me with love where’er
….….I go,
….and your strength is my shield.
Such sensitivity is too wonderful
….….for me;
….it is high; boundless gratitude
….….is my soul’s response.

Where could I go from your Spirit?
….Or how could I flee from
….….your Presence?
If I ascend into heave, You are there!
….If I make my bed in darkness,
….….You are there!
If I soar on the wings of hte morning
…. or dwell in the deepest parts
….….of the sea,
Even there your hand will lead me,
….and your Love will embrace me.
If I say, “Let only darkness cover me,
….and the light about me is night,”
Even the darkness is not dark to You,
….the night dazzles as with the sun;
….the darkness is light to You.

For You formed my inward being,
….You knit me together in my
….….mother’s womb.
I praise You, for You are to be
….….reverenced and adored.
….Your mysteries fill me with wonder!
More than I know myself You know me;
….my essence was not hidden from You,
When I was being formed in secret,
….intricately fashioned from the
….….….elements of the earth,
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance,
….in your records were written
….….every one of them,
The days that were numbered for me,
….when as yet there were none of them.
How precious to me are your creations,
….….….O Blessed One!
….How vast is the sum of them!
Who could count your innumerable
….….….gifts and blessings?
….At all times, You are with me.

O that You would vanquish my fears,
….….….Beloved;
….O that ignorance and suffering
….….would depart from me -
All that separates me from true
….….abandonment,
is surrendering myself into
….….….Your hands!
Yet are these not the very thorns that
….….focus my thoughts upon You?
….Will I always need reminders to
….….turn my face to You?
I yearn to come to You in love,
….….to learn of your mercy and wisdom!

Search me, O my Beloved, and know
….….….my heart!
….Try me and discern my thought!
Help me to face the darkness within me;
….enlighten me, that I might
….….radiate your love and light!

Preparing Our Hearts
.

The two songs that follow in video are offered as a conversation, a conversation God initiates and that we follow up with in response.

There are those who’ve come to us in our lives saying, “God is saying this to you…” or “The Lord would want you to know…” and the words that followed, spoken in God’s name have crushed our spirits and battered our souls. The message they came bringing in God or Jesus’ name made us wonder where we stood with God. But hear this my friend; when God speaks to his beloved, God’s words uplift and bless, restore and heal, comfort and bring peace. When the Spirit of God speaks the words are ones of love, grace, and mercy. Any words that fall short of that, that stand in opposition to the very nature of a God who loves with unconditional love, who gives without measure and takes endless delight in his beloved, are not words from God.

So what I invite you to do in these next few minutes is put every word aside that has wounded your soul, lay down every message given in God’s name that has caused you to doubt your Creator’s great and abiding love for you. And now in the stillness of this moment receive the words of this song as though they express the very heart of God for you….because they do. God is singing over you and the song God sings is love.

The words you just heard express the heart of God for you. For you. And while our faith depends on more than emotion, I pray even now you’re able to feel God’s love for you, to receive every word as a whisper of God to the center of your soul. Believe. Believe. You are God’s beloved.

There are times in our lives when the love of God is made so real we have no choice, no other desire but to come to God in worship and give thanks. Since no one is watching you right now other than God, I invite you to enter into a posture of worship as the next song begins. Over the past days as I’ve listened to this song over and over again, I’ve found my hands spontaneously going to my heart, as if to hold my heart before God as a way of letting God know that the words of this song reflect my deepest praise for all God is to me. So whether you hold your hands to your heart or lift them up into the air, whether you stand or sit or kneel, it doesn’t matter. I just want to encourage you as we begin our journey to the table to come not only in heart and mind but with all that you are, including the body that holds your spirit and the Spirit of God within you. One more thing. About half way through the song, the chorus will change and begin repeating “Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy, You are. You are.” The melody is easy enough so even if you think your voice is enough to make flowers wilt, sing along. God hungers for your worship and every voice lifted in praise is beautiful to Him.

Gathering at the Table

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A:…..The Lord be with you.
C: …..And also with you.
A: …..Lift up your hearts.
C: …..We lift them up to the Lord.
A: …..Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God.
C: …..It is right to give God thanks and praise.

A: …..[Prayer] For all this and more we pray…
C: ….through Christ, with Christ, in Christ; in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
………all glory and honor is yours Almighty God, now and forever. Amen.

Remembering and Receiving

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Closing Thoughts from Anita

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I pray now as I already have been praying, that this would have been a special time for you and that through it you would have felt a little more loved and a little less alone. I pray that the Spirit of Christ we remember and celebrate at the table was made real to you in a new and living way. Brother or Sister, you are God’s beloved. Let no one and nothing ever tell you otherwise. Give no one the power to stand in your way to God or to the table God has provided for you through Jesus.

This post will always be here and so you can return to it again and again whenever you want. If you decide to come to the table here again in another week or month or year, let me know and I’ll come back here too and take communion with you again.

I’d love to invite any of you who participated in this communion, to share any reflections you have in terms of what the experience meant to you, where it challenged you or where it blessed you. And if not about this particular time at the table, it would be amazing if you would relate another communion that was meaningful to you in your life.

Thank you for joining me at Christ’s table, and thank you for all the times you stop by SisterFriends Together.

Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.

Anita

I need some bright ideas for SisterFriends content so here’s the deal. I want you, and yes, I’m looking right at you so don’t pretend you don’t see me, to come up with some ideas for topics we can tackle together.

• What questions do you have about being GLBTQ and/or Christian?
• What issues within our community are of particular concern to you?
• Is there a Scripture passage you want to explore from a queer perspective?
• Is there something you want to know about me personally that I haven’t already told you ad nauseam? Periwinkle. That’s my favorite color in case that’s what you were wondering about. Next.

Name a concern or a topic. Ask a question. Pose a situation. Give me something to work with here people. Put on your little lesbian baseball hat thinking caps and then dash it out in a comment to this post. I want ideas from you gay boys too. I just didn’t want to ask you to risk messing your hair with an unflattering cap.

Oh. Do I need to bribe you to get you to participate? Fine. Done.

Sometime toward the end of next weekend I’ll print out all the ideas that have been contributed to the comment section, lay them on the floor and throw two pennies over my shoulder. The two contributors whose comment is pennified (my word my bad) will each receive a prize that will be worth at least 3 dollars and 14 cents plus postage. I know. Extravagant. That’s just the way I roll!

And yes, I know I said I wouldn’t be posting for a couple weeks following my surgery but I’m not going to be in such bad shape I won’t be able to toss a penny or two. So what if it makes me whimper a little. You’re worth it.

So there you have it. Operators are standing by waiting to take your ideas.