Holy Moments

I am strangely moved by Benazir Bhutto's assassination. I know her only through the voices of NPR commentators, and I will likely forget her quickly. However, today I am reminded to speak truth to power and to treasure life's holy moments.

Heat, work, busyness, a messy- unfinished house, and routine usurp the beauty and power of Advent -- at least for me. But this year the insanity of the season has been peppered with holy moments.

Last Saturday, I spent the day with old friends. We sat around the fire, roasted hog shoulders, sipped a little whiskey, and shared stories. Time changes nothing and everything. Seven years have pasted since we lived in the same community and the only difference I noticed was my own maturity and the absence of my favorite Springer Spaniel, Jack. Thanks be to God.

I cherish my role as a lay reader at St. John UMC. But, as many of you may guess, I am not very coachable. That changed this weekend. As I listened to Judith coach the Christmas Eve readers, I knew that we were invoking the holy. Judith is experienced and credentialed, but none of that mattered. She spoke with love and admiration to each reader - from the small child to the senior minister. Judith's admonitions focused on the spirit of each reading and how the reader could lead the congregation toward the holy mystery. She could have simply corrected tone or pace, but instead she focused on spirit and energy and for that I am grateful. Thanks be to God for coaches who bring mystery and holiness into routine moments.

On fifth Sundays I teach Sunday School at the senior high rise adjacent to the church. The group humors my musings, but prefers lectures to interaction. Embarrassingly, they never crossed my mind during the holidays until I received a card and check from them. I was both ashamed and affirmed. I'm single without kids, so occasionally I am jealous of the gift frenzy surrounding others. The gift from these seniors squelched my jealousy and highlighted the gift of love that surrounds me daily. Thanks be to God for the wisdom and generosity of elders.

The tattoo on my right arm is supposed to remind me that god is present in unexpected places and that my role is to open my senses to the divine presence. Most of the time I fail. Thanks be to God for a series of holy "oh yeah, god is here" moments that propel me into the new year.

Benazir Bhutto - one woman yearning to make a difference -- often failing -- occasionally succeeding. May her death not be in vain.