Sunday, September 16, 2012
Where Do You See an Altar in the World?
I've been reading Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor. She talks about finding the sacred in the everyday. Where have you noticed the sacred in the ordinary lately? Notice this week the pieces of God that are in everyone and everything and write about it. Also, if you have some extra time, read Barbara's book! : )
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The Knife Salesman
ReplyDeleteOnce there was a man who wasn’t a Pastor.
He had no Theology Degrees
and no clinical education teaching him how to help people.
He was a knife salesman in the four state region
for twenty eight years.
His customers liked him.
As the years went by
he celebrated with them the birth of their children,
cried as they told him of painful divorces,
listened as they told him about cancer
and heart attacks
and children that rebelled.
When it was right
he gave them simple wisdom.
He told a few how God gave him hope
and because of his life
it made sense to them.
and it gave them hope.
His brief case became the altar
upon which he leaned on to pray.
He often broke bread with troubled friends
and those in need.
He was a healing presence.
When he died
his family wasn’t surprised
that so many strangers showed up
to honor a man
who had followed his calling.
Watermelon Pickles and Sacred Memories
ReplyDeleteI don’t remember what year, maybe it was 1995. I drove cross-country to visit Auntie Esther.
I arrived in time for supper, and was asked to go get a jar of pickles from the root cellar. Flipping on the light down there, I saw the ribbon of color across the walls formed by gleaming jars of green beans, tomatoes, and corn. At the end of the top row was a small section of pickles. I chose one labeled “watermelon pickles” and brought it upstairs.
My first taste of watermelon pickle was a burst of sunshine and tangy spice tingling on my tongue. “How do you make these?” I asked.
“I’ll give you my recipe if you’d like,” replied Auntie Esther.
After our meal, while I cleared the table and did the dishes, Auntie Esther wrote out the recipe. Then she went downstairs and brought up the last jar of watermelon pickles. When I left a few days later, I carefully packed the pickles and the recipe in my luggage. As I drove away, little did I realize that was the last time I would see Auntie Esther in her own home.
I saved the pickles to serve with Christmas dinner. As the family gathered around, I told them about Auntie Esther’s pickles and that this was the last jar of pickles she made. Everyone enjoyed a bit of pickle with their meal. After dinner I put the jar of pickles back in the refrigerator.
Somehow, that jar of pickles was forgotten until the following Christmas. When I discovered it in the back of the refrigerator, I brought it out again for our family meal. Everyone remembered the story of Auntie Esther’s pickles and enjoyed another taste.
As we cleared the table, one of the grandchildren asked, “Grandma, will you save the rest of the pickles for next year?”
As another Christmas rolled around, I put the watermelon pickles in a pretty glass dish, and as they were passed around the table, I told some of my memories of Auntie Esther. Her life was a story of courage and faith, of struggle and overcoming.
After dinner, we carefully put the leftover pickles back in their jar in the refrigerator.
Each Christmas for the next 10 years we brought out the jar of pickles, cut them into smaller and smaller pieces, and passed them at the table as we shared memories of Auntie Esther and her inspiring example of a life well lived. It began to feel like a sacrament of remembrance as we tasted the spicy sunshine of her life and shared our memories of her.
The last bit of watermelon pickle is finally gone. But I still have the pint jar in my refrigerator! And the example of Auntie Esther’s life of faith lives on.
Wow. Just wow. This goes in the book. Thank you for sharing this memory & story. I love the visual of all the lights glinting through the jars like a stained glass window in a church. magnificent.
DeleteBeautiful story! I laughed and teared up.... so nice! Thank you!
ReplyDeleteAn Abundant Life by Marlene Obie
ReplyDeleteOn an altar of deep shoal core of North Dakota Badlands, a faith-filled candle was lit.
I last saw her a few short weeks ago, blessed carrier of Christian Spirit, the frailest we'd seen her lately, yet filling the room with her presence.
Although she hadn't spoken in more than a year, her eyes and smiles said again that she loves us all.
She'd often claimed we saved her life. She enriched ours beyond measure and taught us about trusting God.
Just her breath in and out that day brought us an anointing of peace as we hugged, squeezed her hand, wrote our greetings and prayed with her again.
We are left now with gifts within the gift of knowing her,
which she generously shared--her stories, wisdom, humor, opinions,
laughter, empathy, acceptance,encouragement, gratitude, determination--lessons in radiating God's love.
From her own words, we echo, "Thank you, Jesus."
Marlene, this is a lovely tribute to a beautiful person. Thank you.
ReplyDelete