I remember reading that every seven to ten years, most of our cells have regenerated. Thankfully, not all at once, but over the course of that time, most of our cells die and we get a new cell in its place. There are lots of kinds of cells (red blood cells live pretty short lives compared to the ones that make up your bones) but in general, they all have a lifespan and are replaced. 

That got me thinking about different versions of myself. Clearly, my physical cells have regenerated in the 50+ years of my life, but my mental, emotional, and spiritual lives have evolved over that time as well. Old ideas and beliefs have slowly faded to be replaced with a newer version that holds for a while before it, too, is changed. I am both the same person and a different person than I was at any other given age. The version of me that existed in my teens or twenties still might linger in my memory, but I’m not that person exactly. 

The passage of time is such a curious thing to me. Some days it feels like the seconds take their time ticking by, while at other times, whole weeks or months fly by leaving me winded in their wake. 

This year marks a 20 year anniversary for me - 20 years of leading Vacation Bible School! I distinctly remember that first year in 2006, some of the mistakes I made, and some of the challenging kiddos we had. But I also remember the joy, the fun, the laughter, and even some of the songs! (Those songs are deceptively easy and exceedingly catchy!)

We just wrapped up this year's VBS today with about 80 children and volunteers on the church campus every day. The week went quickly, but not so fast that I forgot to savor a few sweet moments.

Yesterday was an “odds and ends” day. You know the kind of day where one thing after another pulls focus and you do sort of 20-30 minutes on any given thing that really needed about an hour. People, tasks, emails, phone calls – all of these have peppered my days. Thankfully, nothing terrible has cropped up, but each one required a little of my time. 

I don’t love these days, but I don’t mind them either. The variety of things keeps my interest, and the hours move along quickly. But I also never feel like I’ve gotten very much done (and we all know I love a good ‘to do’ list with checkboxes). I managed to get enough done, so it’ll have to do. 

As I write this, I wonder where God was in my day yesterday.

June has swung into view, and it brings us into summer which has a little pressure with it. The pressure is to do something, to enjoy the warmer weather, perhaps even to be more social since it’s “nice outside.” And as someone who spent a decade living in places where sunshine was not as plentiful, I fully understand that urge. 

But I ran across a few things this week that emphasized being present in the moments given to us instead of moving quickly through them and on to the next thing. I’ve given you one in its entirety just below – a Blessing for a Gentle Summer by Kate Bowler – because I think we can all use this kind of blessing these days. 

May used to be one of my favorite months of the year. Spring has come and warmed the earth and air but doesn’t contain the rather more uncomfortable hot temperatures that the summer will undoubtedly bring. 

On some level I still love May, but now it comes with all sorts of “end of the school year” things – concerts, performances, awards, and on and on. Mind you, these are nearly universally delightful things but there are many of them and I tire of them at a certain point. 

Couple all of those extra things that pile into May with the usual run of the mill tasks, errands and activities and it ends up feeling like a treadmill that someone adjusted to 10/10 for me. Even now, I hear the siren call of the grocery store. I’d resist it, but we do still need to eat so I’ll try to squeeze that in between leaving work and picking up the first kid to be done with her school day. 

The other day as I was driving around town, I noticed a large pick-up truck with a lot of lumber stacked in the bed. There appeared to be the usual standard sizes of wood, but there was also a piece that looked somewhat triangular. How curious, I thought, and I wondered what might be built with this wood. 

Later that week, I found myself in a waiting room. After checking in for this appointment, I sat to listen for my name to be called and my eye was drawn to a flash of plastic and thread in the hands of the woman sitting near me. The thread appeared to be fine and the plastic piece she worked with was an odd shape. Curiosity overtook me and I asked what she was doing and what she was making. She told me she was tatting and making lace. I admired her lace and her creativity. She laughed and said it kept her hands busy and helped to pass the time. All the same, I marveled at her creativity. 

It’s Tuesday morning and it is way too early for me to be awake. But my brain has not heeded my silent request to go back to sleep. Instead, it has clicked on for the day and started to think thoughts. I know this is the end of my sleep so I quietly get up, head downstairs, and wonder how tired I will be later. 

After my faithful coffee maker has delivered a hot beverage to me and I am sitting in a chair, I notice that the light changes near the stairwell. There is movement there, and a sleepy 11-year-old girl in her fuzzy robe enters the dim room with me. I put down my coffee, and she comes over to curl up in my lap. She can’t exactly curl up on my lap, though, because she’s only maybe six or eight inches shorter than I am now, so, she sort of squishes next to me in the recliner.

Dear Church Family, 

I must tell you that I am really looking forward to Sunday's Rise Against Hunger event. But I also must confess that the first year we did this event I had no idea what all this was about. Pastor Karl reassured me that it would be great and that I 'd love it. But I wasn't entirely convinced. 

Certainly I understood feeding people - I'm a mother of four and I often joke that Food is my superpower. But the whole part about putting dehydrated vegetables and rice into a bag didn't quite make sense in my brain. I couldn't quite envision it. 

What about the hair nets and gloves?…

There are plenty of mundane tasks to do to get ready for any Sunday, but this coming Sunday is Easter which means there are even more. As I write to you, the copier is humming as it prints out well over 500 pieces of paper that many of you will hold in your hands at the worship services on Good Friday or Easter.

The sanctuary has been stripped of some of the normal color and black has been added for Good Friday. But the Easter flowers wait in the wings for their moment in front. Colored, plastic eggs and goody bags for the kiddos have been assembled. Musicians have been preparing for weeks for this weekend, and Karl has been thinking about the sermon for a little longer than is typical. 

On some mornings, I will do yoga as my exercise, either at in-person yoga class or with a video online. I am not very flexible, but it does help keep my joints moving, and I think it’s good for me to move daily in some way. In most of the classes, the instructor will give a moment for us to “set an intention” for the day’s practice of yoga. 

I love the idea of setting an intention for that specific time, but nearly always my mental response is somewhat cheeky: “my intention is don’t die.” I mean it figuratively - I’m not worried about physical death, I just want to make it through the session. “Don’t die” is my way of saying that I’d like to keep up and not have the movements be too fast or too bendy. Of course, since I’m the one who decided to do the yoga, I usually come up with a truer and less flippant response. 

Sitting in my office now, I can hear a swing from the preschool/day care just across the parking lot. The swing whines a little higher as it goes forward and a little lower as it coasts backward. I don’t know which child is enjoying the swings right now, but I can tell you that it is a fairly constant sound. It’s not annoying in any way, just a small and somewhat distant whine that I can hear if things are quieter in the office. 

I remember loving to swing on the swings as a child. It almost felt like I was flying – what a marvelous thing! Some kids could jump off the swings at just the right time and go sailing through the air and land well. I could not do jump off with any sort of accuracy or grace, but I could swing!