What became of that Mamma V lady that used to blog?
I recently reconnected with an acquaintance from days gone by, we have writing as a common interest. I was gob-smacked to realize I have not posted since the twins were born. The girls are now 17 months old and developing well. They have had their share of childhood maladies but have come through each one well, by God’s grace.
Another personal update: I am back to school and happily invested in my internship. After a break in my Master of Social Work studies to process my husband’s death and covid in general, I’m back at the books. My alma mater, Lancaster Bible College has started an MSW program and I am thrilled to return there for my studies. I can not recommend it highly enough.
I will complete two internships or field projects. My current one is through HVMI aka HandiVangelism or HandiCamp. I have worked at camps and Bible clubs with this awesome ministry and they are now hosting my project titled Building Successful Support Networks.
I am including a description of the project here and would like the questionnaire distributed widely, so please copy and share. The more input I get, the more useful the summary writing will be for everyone.
At last, she returns with a blog from the fog. In 2020 I was stubbornly determined not to write about the pandemic. The same pandemic in which I became a widow. The pandemic I participated in personally right after David’s funeral. One could call it all a breathtaking experience, wreaking havoc with my asthma for several months. My new and potent pulmonary meds made my brain thick with migraine-like fog resulting in my dropping out of graduate school. Even my dog got killed by a hit and run in 2020. Stinkin’ year, that! Still, none of these things moved me to write, I mention them only so my subscribers can feel caught up.
Something I will add that may help the reader map out this leg of my journey is a partial list of the people I have loved and grieved, most young and unexpectedly: My sister Kathleen (she was 18, I was 12); a friend in high school, Diane (abduction and murder); Audrey age 22 (car crash); my parents (ages 69& 71); my brother in law 27 (car crash); my brother Mike 50 (heart attack); my father in law 67 (heart attack); Jethro& Leander ages 7&9 (drowning); Caleb age 14 (accident); David 61 (heart attack). Okay, so you get the idea. With the exception of my parents, these were all sudden deaths, I did not list the friends and loved ones gone after cancer battles and illness or old age. My point is, I have seen a lot of sudden death.
SOMEONE DIED JUST OUTSIDE OF MY CHURCH
Part of the grieving process, or at least for me, is a macabre obsession with death. The length of the phase varies, but I recently had a sort of relapse. It started with the stench of death just outside our urban church building.
If you have lost a loved one, you know the phase; for me, it occurs usually on an overcast day and everything I see or think of follows a trail to the topic of death. The closer the loved one the stronger the suction is into the trap. Everything from sights, songs, to smells kick it off. The most recent episode for me gave me a new conviction to reach out to people about Christ.
As I was coming out of my fog from David’s death and my Covid troubles I was walking into church when I smelled an accident. Around the corner a crowd was gathered and a mangled motorbike was being hauled away. I did not have to wonder what happened, I could smell it. Sparing the details it is a smell any emergency personnel can identify, hot concreate + blood+ flesh. It is the smell of death on the road but it mimics the smell of a mausoleum, only worse. And the smell was right at the doorstep of my church. As I entered the building with the thought of ‘somebody just died out there’ I was soberly hit by notion of all the spiritual death just outside that door.
My pleasant, healing church walls felt miles away from the death going on outside. I was moved to consider what a mission field we were placed in. We get a few people through our doors that are right off the streets, seeking and we try to serve them. That night, however, I was overwhelmed by the strong scent of death just outside our doors and asked God not to take away the burden that the smell caused me. Our churches are in war zones, we can’t always see it, or smell it, but we are there. Lord help us to see, hear, and smell the dying that is going on all around us, let us be disturbed into action.
In my dictionary, there are seven definitions for the word. Likewise, it means different things to different people. One of the foremost reasons for a support team is to create clear communication during a difficult situation. A good start would be for all involved to define what the word support means to them and what it means in their particular situation. These ideas need to be brought into agreement.
I have seen well-meaning support teams make a situation worse, I have seen well-functioning support teams have an individual walk away from them, the church and even from a godly lifestyle. An important factor for all to keep in mind is that the situation that has called for a team is likely an unsolved puzzle. In fact, it is like a puzzle one gets at a second-hand store or garage sale, you are never quite sure all the pieces are actually in the box (even if it says so on the tag). And like a puzzle, there are times when we think a piece fits someplace, only to find we are mistaken when we find the correct piece or place. And then to add to the challenge, you have several different people viewing the picture from differing angles. Sometimes that means they see something helpful, sometimes it means they are seeing amiss because of their current perspective.
So how can we build teams that are upbuilding and retain the
dignity of those involved? Our churches have a level of accountability that is
part of our community. The world admires the plain people for our sense of
community and mutual aid, and it is a precious part of our heritage we do well
to maintain. However, there are few outside our culture that will tolerate the transparency
and accountability that is required for this type of community.
If the Apostle Paul had to die to self daily (1 Co. 15:31)
then how much more do we need to? And giving up for the good of those around us
is a supernatural even that overrides a very natural self-involvement.
And then discernment comes in, how much of me do I give up
for another? How much of my uniqueness does the Lord want me to use for the benefit
of His church and for His glory?
So, I am throwing out these thoughts to my readers, I would like to gather some input on what support team experience and observation you have had. In the book Holding Out Hope by Byler, Stauffer, and Byler there is a chapter on support teams that gives the input gained at Green Pasture and Philhaven. I would like to do supplemental writing on the topic for our churches and need the views of those who have been involved in support teams in any capacity. I am particularly burdened for those living with mental illness.
Our congregation was given a large, old, beautiful church building in the city of Reading. The only request the previous group had was that we continue the monthly meal program that they had established. They had gained a reputation for caring for the local community people in need. We were glad for the opportunity to serve.
The other day was the first cold day of the year and a chilly wind had a bite to it. I needed to drop off some things at our inner city church.
A man was leaning over a four foot parking post behind our church. He was trying to sleep and would teeter and sway, then catch himself. He may have been high, or drunk, or just off kilter, but he had come to our church for a rest stop. Eventually he must have fallen into a deep sleep because he fell to the ground finally, waking up and walking away.
In the doorway was another man trying to find shelter from the cold wind, he was curled up on the step. He looked properly clothed, but he was seeking shelter. Seeing both of these people at midday seeking a rest at our church really struck me with gratitude.
For a nice change of pace, I saw them through Jesus’s eyes instead of my own. I felt so honored and privileged that they came to our church for a rest. They were beautiful, and honest about their need.
In that moment they represented all of us in a way; stumbling around looking for relief. My heart thrilled to see that they came to a church for a break in their crazy, stressful, confusing, unsafe world. They came to our church!
We see folks in all sorts of situations, some with psychiatric challenges, addictions, medical struggles, broke, some needy, others greedy. Just like the rest of us. What a comfort to know that when in distress these people think of showing up at our church. It may not be a Billy Graham alter call, but it’s encouraging that they even think of us as able to help.
One reason this event was so refreshing to me was because it is easy to cop a bad attitude when working with the unchurched that come with all sorts of baggage. I know in my head they are precious souls but the rough spots often obscure the fact that they bear God’s image under all those earthly cares. But these two guys melted my heart. I go into that building all needy and weary too. My needs are more spiritual than physical, only because I am currently blessed with health, work, food, and shelter. Maybe these folks will also think of seeking a church when they consider their spiritual needs…maybe…someday.
