STORY In Chicago

We went to Chicago. It was a conference called STORY but really, it was an experience. It was unlike anything I've experienced in the Christian conference realm. Rather than a brain dump of good information from great communicators, STORY was two days worth of moments. Some funny, some intense, some comfortable, some stretching. Some tasty - can you say Twinkies served on a silver tray? Moon pies and Cokes in glass bottles - served on silver trays. Awesome swag, from hand-sewn shoulder bags to Brennan Manning books. Amazing stories. Authentic lives.

Good information from great communicators, but so much more than that, really. I can say this, off the top of my head, before I have time to go through all my notes:

1. If you ever have the opportunity to hear Esther Havens, Ed Dobson, Ann Voskamp or Ian Cron speak - DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. GO.

2. I met Chris Vacher, aka @chrisfromcanada, another friend I'd never met. He was as nice and generous with his time in person as he is in the blog world.

3. All Sons and Daughters. Worship music. Brilliant.

4. Kyle Cooper. Scared the crap out of me. Brilliant, talented, amazingly creative.

I really, really liked my two days in Chicago. I went with great people and had memorable experience. It changed me. That's a good thing.

The set; tree branches. Awesome lighting. Brilliant graphics.

This would be a good time to tell you that all photos are courtesy of Sarah Brawley's amazing eye and camera.

Good sammiches at Snarfs. We ran into a friend of Katie's who just happened to be working at THAT restaurant. Weird.

Great Chicago-style pizza at Gino's. And a VERY intense conversation...

Friends. Incredibly talented people. Love them both.

In the van. Oh, the van ride. 14 hours of glorious fun and bonding.

Me. For a moment, I felt like a movie star.

Us. These are some of the people who make the services happen at PCC. We are creative, and we are not ashamed.

Again, thanks to the talented and generous Sarah Brawley, whose photography skills are brilliant.

#roadtripquotes

If you follow me on twitter or are a friend on Facebook, you noticed our #roadtripquotes today. I am in Chicago tonight, after a grueling drive from Virgina through the Midwest to this grand city. Most of my creative team is here, along with our children's pastor (who is sleeping with the senior pastor) (which is appropriate) (because they are married). Several months ago we signed up to attend the Story conference, designed for creative types. We are hoping that the next two days will be inspiring, powerful and meaningful. So far we have had a good time. You get to know people while traveling in some unique ways. Brian, Susan, Lindsay, Sarah, Katie and I made the drive. We picked up Jackie at the airport; she flew in from Richmond this evening. Elijah took the train up from St Louis, and John will arrive by air in the morning. We are making a personal investment of time and money because we believe it will make a difference in the work we are called to do at PCC. we will be back for the weekend services; hopefully Brian will not have starved to death. And we won't get lost. Again.

Legal Aliens

This is Natasha and Christine. They met last week at a programming meeting. Natasha has been around PCC for several years; Christine for a few months.

They connected and stepped up to work on the stage design installation for the 9/11 service. If you saw the large flag we used for the background in last week's service, you can thank Natasha and Christine, along with Jackie Heberle, Natasha's husband Terrance and Bonte Fugatt.

Essentially, somebody said, "Wouldn't it be cool if we had a huge flag?"

And then, we did.

After wrestling with chicken wire and hundreds of pieces of colored tissue paper, we had a flag. Thanks to a couple of women who connected through their church and have become friends.

The coolest thing? Last week's project was a bit of a challenge for these two women; they needed a diagram and a chart to make sure they got it right. See, Natasha is  South African. Christine is English. Both ended up in a rural county in Virginia. Both made their way to PCC. The American flag is not their flag, but a symbol of their current home country.

There's a great verse in the Bible, in the New Testament book of Galations, that says, "In Christ's family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ. Also, since you are Christ's family, then you are Abraham's famous "descendant," heirs according to the covenant promises." 

We like having these two girls around, with their weird accents and interesting vocabulary. That common relationship we share makes us friends, equals, heirs. It's very cool.

And we're glad to have them around.

If you are interested in helping out with our set installations or any other part of our creative work, let me know. We have fun. We'd love your help!

We Will Never Walk Alone

I was so powerfully moved by the video artwork created for today's service. Katie Rusch and Josh Bartlam did an amazing job taking a borrowed idea (thank you, Passion City Church!) and making it work for our community.

The song is "Shelter" by Jars of Clay.

Here's the video. If anybody ever asks you what our church is about, this will give them a pretty good idea.



PCC Drawing Video from JB Media on Vimeo.

To all who are looking down holding on to hearts still wounding 
For those who've yet to find it the place is near where love is moving 
Cast off the robes you're wearing, set aside the names that you've been given 
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey bind you to hope 
You will never walk alone 

In the shelter of each other we will live 
We will live 
In the shelter of each other we will live 
We will live 

If our hearts are turned to stone there is hope; we know the rocks will cry out 
And the tears aren't ours alone; let them fall into the hands that hold us 
Come away from where you're hiding, set aside the lies that you've been living 
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey bind you to hope 
We will never walk alone 

If there is any peace, if there is any war 
We must all believe our lives are not our own 
We all belong 
God has given us each other 
And we will never walk alone

My Political Statement

I don't do political blogging. I'm interested and aware, but not drawn to discourse or declarations about the process or the candidates.

I saw snippets of the president's speech last night. Based on my reaction to what I saw - not what I heard, mind you - I've decided to make a political statement. I've chosen a side and I'm going to be vocal about what I believe. And this has nothing to do with Republicans, Democrats or Tea Parties. I support the president of the United States, whatever his party affiliation. The office is deserving of respect.

Some things transcend political positions.

And let me say also that I know this isn't an original statement -  I've heard or seen it before - but I will adopt it as my own today.

Okay. Here's my political statement.

Referring to Congress and politicians and those in positions of power and leadership:

Congress needs a mother.

I swear! Watching the reactions to the president's speech - the raised eyebrows, looks of derision, knowing smirks, the pouts and crossed arms refusing to stand ("YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!") - OR cheering madly for "their guy" regardless of the words coming out of his mouth and shooting snarky looks to the guys across the aisle - it reminded me of my kids during some of our more interesting family meetings.

When my kids disrespect one another, mock or make fun of or simply refuse to acknowledge the value of what is said by a sibling, they get the evil eye. Stern correction, sharp words.

That's not how we behave.

Call me simplistic, overly optimistic or naive, but I believe this: If, collectively, the mothers of the members of Congress walked in that room and straightened them out, we'd have a working democracy. A few well-spoken, well-timed words and that look (you know the one) and all the power plays, grand-standing, bad manners and selfishness would go out the window.

"I raised you better than this."


"Were you born in a barn?"


"Don't speak to your brother that way."

When common, basic respect goes out the window, nobody listens to anything anybody else says. When you tear down others with your words, compromise is impossible. If you don't listen, you don't understand.


"You listen when I am talking to you. And don't you roll your eyes at me."


"You know better."

Honestly - don't all of us know that it's important to be nice? Didn't our mothers raise us to be good people? Don't we know that we should respect others?

"Do what's right. Even if it hurts. Do what's right."


"Life's not fair. Get used to it."

Each of those statements carries a small amount of moral imperative - but coming from your mother, accompanied by the look, you tend to accept and acknowledge the importance and the truth of what otherwise might be easily brushed away and ignored.

Maternal power goes a long way. I think a little of it would go a long way towards redirecting our political process towards something that would make us proud and make our country better.

Before you even try to do the right thing - which, granted, may be different according to your perspective and political persuasion - you must learn how to treat others with respect. I just don't see much of that in our political process.

Every few months I dial in the local AM station and listen for a while to the afternoon radio show of a man who purportedly wields great influence in the arena of political opinion. After 5 minutes, I'm furious; not because of the political positions, but because of the sheer rudeness that passes for insight and political positions. I don't know why I do this; perhaps only to remind myself of what's going on out there. It's depressing.

Perhaps our next political movement should be away from tea and towards simply reminding political leaders of how they ought to behave. And maybe part of the process ought to be a Time Out corner for those who are unable to treat others with respect. And a mother or two to send them there as needed.

Then maybe we could get something done and quit all this ridiculous posturing and positioning.

The end.

It's That Time Of Year

I am home.

I am listening to YoYo Ma play Bach's cello suites.

I am sitting in a sea of gratitude, knowing that Tropical Storm Lee spit his fury on my brother's house and sent a huge tree onto their PT Cruiser and through their bedroom. And they were not injured - not even home for the chaos. Spared, and safe. And I am grateful.

And I am at the cusp of an unblemished moment.

Tomorrow begins a new school year. As a teacher, I love this time of year. More so than January, this is a time of new beginnings. Fresh pencils, brand new socks and a chance to begin anew.

Three of my five kids return to school in the morning. My middle child begins her senior year. Something tells me this one is going to be hard. I foresee a lot of tears. Not because of her, but because of me, learning to let her go.

For six more years, I will do this. Buy notebook paper and binders and backpacks and make sure there is Lunch Food (which is very different from Real Food) in the house. Six more Septembers.

I cannot envision what my life might be like seven Septembers from now. But we'll get there, won't we?

The kids return to school and I return to work at PCC, after a restful and restorative three weeks away. It's been a great, refreshing time. Most of all, I have found myself. Most of all, I want to learn to keep track of myself during the normal course of time so that I keep from inching so close to the edge.

We ended August with a whirlwind road trip, just the husband and I. We headed to Winchester and had our first Bed & Breakfast experience in an amazing work of restoration. We stayed at the Nancy Shepherd House, and unbeknownst to us until we checked in and began to chat, the innkeeper is a musician of some renown. David and Tony had musician friends in common and it was the most beautiful of coincidences to realize how very small the world can be. We listened to David play banjo, had a cold drink and some great conversation and enjoyed a wonderful night's rest. I can't recommend this place strongly enough; I don't know if all B&B experiences are like this, but ours was wonderful.

We went on to Cleveland to say hello to Tony's parents and bring home the newest member of the family. It was a wonderful visit, if a little quick. We managed to have some time for conversation with everybody, loaded up Satchel II, made it to Mitchell's for some amazing, hands-down-best-in-the-world ice cream and slept. Then we crawled out of bed early this morning and headed south. After a very quick stop in Harrisonburg to hug Shannon, we managed to make it back home in time to prepare for everybody's first day of the rest of our lives.

This marks the end of many things, but with endings come beginnings. It is the nature of things.

The bones of the Nancy Shepherd House date back to the 18th century. Over 300 years have passed since it began its existence. Time has changed much of the house and its surroundings. Chimneys and stairs were walled up, floors were covered up. Many of the changes failed to endure; the house ended up in disrepair.

But the bones were good and sturdy and strong, and with enough time and focus, restoration brought out the beauty within.

I think maybe nothing ever really goes away completely. Things change, and some parts of all things and all people live on in some way. In us, in a foundation, in the huge piece of chestnut from a once proud tree that was part of Fort Loudon and then part of a small inn in Winchester. That bears the touch of us here, today, in the turning into fall of 2011. In a daughter full of show tunes who begins her final year of high school with determination and a challenging schedule. In family, strength and intelligence and character passed on from a father to a son.

I am getting close to a vapid, new-age sort of proclamation of goodness and light. I am tired. I will stop now and end this post with this best wishes to all for a wonderful beginning tomorrow. And a prayer of gratitude for the safety of my brother and his family.

And to all, a good night.

It Changed My Life!

I did something incredibly smart.

I have decided to share it with the world.

Here goes:

I have a smart phone. I hate my phone, but that's another post for another day. In fact, I would encourage you to eagerly anticipate the upcoming post about my utter contempt for this phone, because it will be full of blood and guts, violence and gore.

(The plan is this: when the iPhone5 is released, I will purchase one for Tony as a late birthday gift, and I'll take his "old" iPhone to replace this phone, which will not hold a charge longer than four hours, which creeps along like an 89-year old man with arthritis when asked to do the simplest task - say, one like, "Hey, little black phone. Please look up this phone number in your contacts.')

(It chokes.)

(I used to beg, I used to plead and say nice things and treat it well. I've given up. It hates me, I hate it and we are breaking up as soon as something better comes along. Which is the iPhone 5.)

(Sorry, I lost my train of thought.)

(What I meant to say was that when we get a new phone, I'm going to pulverize this one. And take photos. Or maybe even video. And I'll post it here.)

(I'm sure you can't wait.)

Anyway, here is the smart thing I did with my smart (but hated) phone:

I turned off all email and Facebook notifications.

In fact, I deleted the FB app.

Now, I can still access any of this info (if the phone cooperates). But I do it on my time, at my request, when I make time to pay attention.

I cannot convey the way this has changed my life. I have regained some control; I don't feel constantly distracted and interrupted - which inevitably led to feelings of inadequacy and being overwhelmed by stuff-I-need-to-do-or-haven't-done-and-have-no-idea-how-I'll-get-done.

It's the little things, people.

Give it a try.

You're welcome.