By Joanne Lehman
Publication via Lehman, Joanne
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Sample text
I didn't attend a ''Calling and Caring" workshop at our churchdespite my earlier aid in promoting the concept. I didn't attend the stewardship workshop that Ralph helped lead, and we missed the MEDA meeting. I didn't go to the chapel dedication at Camp Luz or to the WMSC retreat. I also didn't write in my journal, write letters (although I did send several cards), or compose any articles. This month I didn't read any books (except the one I read aloud). I didn't bake any cookies, rake any leaves, or plant any spring bulbs.
Now this pause at the crossroad signals a new direction. A turn in the road heralds a new outlook. This time I vow not to be so wrapped up in myself, nor so idealistic in my expectations of others. I desire to move beyond a self-realization, self-gratification, serf-actualization pattern of living to a clearer picture of a wholea whole that sees self as a minute part, not the center of the universe. It should be possible to move beyond grandiose ideas of the self to a place where Page 31 greatness and grace blend to create wholeness in the person.
Even when he was in his nineties, Grandpa used to sing, unconcerned about his voice cracking from age. He sang at home, to himself, to God. If you listened for it, every Sunday morning you could hear his voice above the others in the Leetonia Mennonite Church, where he attended for his entire life. " With that pronouncement, Grandpa pointed me toward the hymns that now pronounce my faith. In many homes today, the hymnal is buried in a musty piano bench, if they even own a personal copy. " Meanwhile, in the humble hymnbook, poetry which has survived centuries waits to bring us into the presence of a God of love, beauty, and mystery.