The Camp Fire Girl Returns to Work...

Three weeks of Continuing Education after five years of ministry at University Lutheran Church of the Epiphany/Lutheran Campus Ministry...wow! I had taken five days in May 2008 at the Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis - I loved that! But the time was long overdue...I could feel it in my bones. Pastors are granted two weeks and two Sundays each year for their Continuing Education. A pastor can roll the weeks into other years as the weeks accumulate. It was wonderful to be a student again. I love that, too.

I haven't even been back for a week. Upon my return last on June 22, I learned that there were kerfuffles at my work...interpersonal upsets. So, I set to work on trying to resolve some of the mix ups. This made me weary right away. Sigh. Too much drama is just too much, even for a Drama Therapist!

Speaking of Drama Therapists, did I mention that I was informed by my advisor and friend, Sally Bailey, that upon completion of the Creative Arts Therapies class and the Sociodrama class, I will have all the necessary requirements completed to make my application as a Registered Drama Therapist! This is amazing to me and I was thrilled to learn of this great news!

In answer to the question, What is Drama Therapy?, The FAQ page says: Drama therapy is the intentional use of drama and/or theater processes to achieve therapeutic goals. Drama therapy is active and experiential. This approach can provide the context for participants to tell their stories, set goals and solve problems, express feelings, or achieve catharsis. Through drama, the depth and breadth of inner experience can be actively explored and interpersonal relationship skills can be enhanced. Participants can expand their repertoire of dramatic roles to find that their own life roles have been strengthened.

If you're wondering what does a Drama Therapist do?, A drama therapist first assesses a client's needs and then considers approaches that might best meet those needs. Drama therapy can take many forms depending on individual and group needs, skill and ability levels, interests, and therapeutic goals. Processes and techniques may include improvisation, theater games, storytelling, and enactment. Many drama therapists make use of text, performance, or ritual to enrich the therapeutic and creative process. The theoretical foundation of drama therapy lies in drama, theater, psychology, psychotherapy, anthropology, play, and interactive and creative processes.

So, there you have it. Drama Therapy was recognized in 1979, the year I graduated from Luther College in Decorah, Iowa with degrees in Religion and Psychology. I had been doing the things that I later learned that Drama Therapists have been doing all throughout my ministry. I was inspired to do this by my Religion professor, R. Simon Hanson. He taught Introduction to the Old Testament and he sang, danced and acted out the stories of scripture in class! I had never seen anyone do that before and I loved it! To my creative mind, it seemed to make the stories easier to remember. I've used drama and creative arts in my ministry with children, youth, young adults, older adults and many other groups of people.

When I got to K-State and heard there was this professor who was teaching something called, Drama Therapy. I was intrigued. I had come to experience and create for others, healing moments and encouters in the aforementioned activities and also in worship. So, after much cajoling by my friend and professor, "Doc" Norman Fedder, I registered for the graduate program in Theater with an emphasis in Drama Therapy. I took one class a semester, as per the Lutheran Campus Ministry guidelines for staff in degree programs while working full time.

I took me five years to complete the degree and I graduated in December of 2002 with a Masters in Theatre. At the end of my program I presented my Master's project: I wrote, co-directed and performed in my one-woman show, a comedic auto-drama, called FROCKED! It was one of the hardest things I've ever done! I had to rehearse by myself in the haunted Purple Masque Theatre at K-State, reciting my lines over and over to empty chairs. I felt silly and wondered why I ever thought that this would be fun. I memorized over an hour and a half of monologue complete with movement, blocking, actions, power-point projections, music and singing.

Now, as I'm at the end of my certification for Drama Therapy and on the threshold of new adventures, I started thinking about more ways to use my gifts, skills and commitment to the healing power of drama. One of my classes requires us to write a "fictitious" grant request. I thought about the Lilly Endowment foundation that provides grants for various religious purposes so I check the site out to learn if one of their programs might work. I was amazed again.

The Lilly Endowment for Religion sponsors a National Clergy Renewal Program. This program recognizes the importance and necessity for busy pastors to have an opportunity to take an extended break for renewal and refreshment. Usually we call this a Sabbatical Time. Their description of the life and work of a pastor gave me pause for reflection:

At the center of the congregation is the pastor. Spiritual guide, scholar, counselor, preacher, administrator, confidant, teacher, pastoral visitor and friend, a pastor has a privileged position and performs many roles. In season and out, a pastor is called upon to lead communities to the life-giving waters of God.

The job is demanding, and pastors perform their duties among a dizzying array of requests and expectations. Congregations are not always easy places, and the responsibilities can sometimes wear down the best pastors. It is not a job for the faint-hearted, but requires a balance of intelligence, love, humility, compassion and endurance. Most importantly, it demands that pastors remain in touch with the source of their life and strength. Like all people of faith, good pastors need moments to renew and refresh their energies and enthusiasm to determine again "what makes their hearts sing."

As I read and reread these words, I was grateful. I was grateful that there is a group of people who named, understand and recognize the complex, demanding, dizzying array of requests and expectations that pastors live with. In my case, I serve both as a congregation pastor and as a campus pastor. This amplifies and intensifies the complexities in ways that few individuals comprehend or understand.

I'm saddened when some well-meaning (and some not-so-well-meaning) folks think that all I do is deal with a few congregation members and that the campus ministry should be kind of like dealing with a youth group. Sigh. It's frustrating when some refuse to understand that the nature of campus ministry and my work with college students is very intense, highly relational, fast-paced, full of late nights, at times grueling in its academic rhythm and sometimes walking through the deep spiritual valleys and mountains with young adults as they discern their way of faith. Because the nature of campus ministry is this way, the ELCA (and other thoughtful, wise denominations) has set apart certain pastors and ministers to do only this: campus ministry.

One of the former LCMers at SCSU from long ago returned to ULCE a few years back. She is an amazing person. Our backgrounds are nothing alike, but we share this love and esteem for LCM. She says LCM saved her life. I believe this and know that it's most certainly true. I've seen the ministry of LCM save other lives, I've been blessed to have been part of that life-saving enterprise and have celebrated with others when, once they were lost and then they were found and found themselves embraced by the abiding, enduring love of God in Christ Jesus.

This friend of mine wrote some reflections after the 15th Anniversary of ULCE in November of 2009. I thought that her words were profound since she has the broad and long ranging perspective from one who was a college student in LCM at Saint Cloud State University as well as being a "grown-up" member of what had become the LCM and ULCE community.

I had not heard the thoughts expressed by anyone else in the congregation:

But what I don't understand is the way "we" don't show respect to our pastor(s) that I see in other churches. Is it because we are small? Or is it the same in bigger churches where you just don't notice it as much because it's not so glaring? Or is it the kind of church we are or is it the town? The town people have never liked the students in general. So, when you put the two together you get dislike. ULCE appears on the outside to be a church that is accepting of everyone. But at times I see our church stuck and not knowing whether it wants to move forward or stay stuck; to move on and grow into the life force we could be...I believe in us as a church body. We, all of us, just need to figure out what direction we want our church to go. What needs to be remembered is that it is the students that have brought us together in the first place.

I have thought about this a lot since my friend wrote this and since she read it aloud at a meeting of our congregational members and students. There was this pause; this silence after she read her reflections - as if no one could think of a thing to say. People just sat there. And then the leaders of the event and process, sensing the moment and not knowing what to say either, moved the process on and that was that. But something happened that day. There was a naming and an acknowledgement in what she said. Still, since that day it doesn't seem as though folks have gotten to the place - exactly - to figure out what direction we want our church to go.

I have been in prayer about this ministry before I arrived here and ever since that time. The treatment of pastor(s) is a mystery and my guess is that it's been this way for a long time before I arrived. Why? I have no clue. All I know is that I need to stay true to my calling, what I know, what is good, right and blessed in the sight of God.

So, I am going to center on my calling and that which gives life, hope, joy, peace, healing and faith. I have no time for that which drags on my soul or the soul of others. Life is too precious. Life is too short. Life is too grand to do otherwise. So, join with me and if this is not your calling -- let go.

Blessed be!

Tap-Stompin' the Porch

Leaving the Flint Hills

When we left the Flint Hills on Saturday, it was getting ready to thunderstorm - big time! As we packed and scurried to hightail it out in the big, red truck, glimpses of my five days drifted in and out of my mind.

I had an amazingly intense week in my Sociodrama class and met some incredible people. It was a huge extra plus that I had time to practice Aikido with old friends and meet some of the new dojo members. I biked to class and I biked to Aikido in the City Park - too fun! Biking all over Manhattan was like old home week as I zoomed here and there taking all the old short cuts and alleys like it was in my DNA. Then it got HOT! Geez-louise - it was wicked hot and killer-sticky humid...sweat, sweat, sweat. Drip.

I biked most days with my backpack chocked full of my computer and lots of books. Biking back to Stacy and Jon's up the College Heights hill (sometimes several times a day) became an exercise in sheer physical endurance and peddling through the burn in my legs. Yeow. I loved it - you know, pushing the limits of training, doing it for the sake of just doing it and being able to say that you did it is especially fun when people think you're a little nuts - which I readily admit and am proud to claim. I biked during break times in the afternoon because I was so super sick of sitting in the old-school wooden classroom chairs with their groovy little paisley-shaped tops. Some of us were amused at the ancient graffiti determinedly or absentmindedly inscribed on the tops and the petrified globs of gum stuck under the chairs - ick.

I gave up trying to keep track of where I would ride each day and that became a good thing. I had been making a map of my biking every day of my independent study. If I scribbled on a map of my Manhattan biking for you, it would look all criss-crossy and scribble-scrabbled. That's how it was when I lived in Manhattan as the bike-Campus-Pastor traversing all over town. I never thought about keeping track of where I went, I just did it. It was a different time and a different place. While it was glorious to return and ride, I know that I need to go home.

I'd like to think that when I return to Saint Cloud, that I'll keep up my biking-revival. It's almost 7 miles from my house to my church. I could ride there and I have but not consistently. Perhaps my bike-buddies and you readers will chime in with encouragement to ride. That would be lovely. But much change is needed in so many ways...ways that are difficult to articulate and that have just been forming in this complex, intriguing and wacky mind of mine.

There is so much need in the world for art, creativity, beauty and delight. Simultaneously there is so much resistance to such art in a world obsessed with expediency, efficiency, logic, rationality and workaholism. This obsession spills over in the realm of the church. While church folks love music and the like, there is resistance to actually doing and participating in making art. Art has the power to heal heart, mind and body. I believe this is so because art and creativity have as their grounding source, their essence in the Creator of the universe who has created us and all that exists. Art is spiritual at its core. Art nourishes and sustains our souls. Thus, art - in all of its multitudinous facets - is essential for faith and our life as the Church.

I like the guiding principles from the Heart of the Beast Theatre in Minneapolis. Heart of the Beast Theatre centers its art in puppetry. About themselves, they say, "Puppetry’s power lies in the act of transformation - of bringing something inanimate to life. This act in itself speaks to our lives, which rise and fall and rise again."

GUIDING PRINCIPLES From Heart of the beast Theatre:

1. We believe in the transformative power of art to heal and grow individuals, communities, societies, and the world.
2. We provide a positive, creative learning environment to encourage confidence, self-esteem, and “finding your voice” through puppetry arts.
3. We listen to our youth community, respond to their needs, and involve them as decision-makers and leaders.
4. We practice, preach, and provide art that is accessible and inclusive of people of all incomes, ages, races, orientations, abilities, and cultures.
5. We honor the deep cultural, spiritual, and ritual roots of puppetry that provide youth with reflections of deep community values, personal meaning and individual identity.
6. We excel at providing opportunities for people to create and expand community through the act of making puppet theatre.
7. We empower youth to take leadership in telling their innately valuable stories through puppetry and masks.
8. We believe youth are capable of professional standards of excellence in puppet theatre and strive to create high quality processes and productions with youth.
9. We create opportunities for youth to present their creative work and educate the community about their perspectives.
10. We recognize the folk-arts apprenticeship tradition of learning that puppetry stems from, and honor the commitment to train new generations in the craft of puppetry.
11. We facilitate the creation of meaningful peer community to reduce isolation of youth from each other and their communities.

I left the Flint Hills of my beloved Manhattan, Kansas with a renewed hope and enthusiasm for engaging and inviting others into the joy of a creative life in the Church. I've been doing art in the Church since I was a wee tiny little girl. Art resides in my heart and soul and I love inviting others into this life of mystery, joy, contemplation and wonder. As I watched the lightning bolts flash across the northern sky, I was in awe. The wind buffeted the big, red truck as we crossed the Tuttle Creek Lake Dam. The reservoir was roiling and the waves rolled up in about 3-4 foot swells. It was the lake upon which I had spent over twelve years of my life sailing summer after summer. We took our kids, the LCM and Aikido students, colleagues, friends and Sea Scouts sailing on the Sun Dolphin. But, more about the sensational Sun Dolphin in another post.

I was wistful peering out my window and a bit misty-eyed as I left a place that gave me solace and freedom, one that cradled my children and nurtured all of our spirits. It was fun to be - and will always be in my heart - a K-State Wildcat.

I sometimes wonder myself how feasible it is to commit one's life of creative purpose and living a life immersed in art in the midst of our hyper-drive culture. I wonder a lot about life and the world. I wonder about my place in it and where God needs me the most. I trust and pray that all will be well and that the gifts of my life will be received in grace.

Blessed be and may grace abound!

Make New Friends...

One of our favorite camp songs that we'd sing at the beginning of our week was, Make New Friends. This little round is quite fun because - well, the words are great - the song has lots of harmony that also blends and twists and swirls in the midst of the round (which goes round and round).

Make new friends, but keep the old

One is silver and the other's gold.

There is an old church-saying that goes:

Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

I'd rather think of it this way:

Friendliness is next to Godliness.

Making new friends is so important. I've been making new friends in my class. My new friend, Pat, and I had an impromptu - or should I say - improv lunch. We laughed and laughed, told stories, shared sympathy for the heavy burdens that have weighed us down and made merry in our new friendship. While we were at lunch, I saw some of my old friends who came up to greet me as if I'd never been away. It was so heartwarming and sweet. We caught up on the news from the last five years and smiled a lot. Reconnecting with old friends and cherishing them is equally essential for spiritual cheer and health. During the evenings, I catch up with dear Aikido friends who have been significant lights along my pathway.

On the way back to class as we were getting ready to go in the door, I thanked my new friend and broke into a round of Make New Friends. By miracle and magic, she joined with my in singing! It was wondrously fun. We sang the round as we went up the stairs to class. Someone else heard us singing and joined us.

This day has been a lovely time of returning and treasuring; of delighting in the newness of the day; of feeling content and whole and of celebrating that all is well -- for this day.

The Hebrew word is Dayenu - it is enough - there is grace sufficient for each day.

Dayenu, my friends - old and new - dayenu!

Thunderstorm in Kansas

Thunderstorms

When I was very wee, Dad and I used to sit out on the front step of our little house in Naperville, Illinois and watch the thunderstorms come in. I loved sitting there with him - me so small, Dad so brave and dad-cool. I thrilled to see the lightning ricochet through the dark clouds. It was scary when the big bolts would hit the ground. But he'd sit with his arm around me while the thunder rumbled through the air and shook my innards. Then I wasn't afraid.

I guess that's might be why the storms at Camp Hitaga didn't bother me so much. They were just storms and they're beautiful. Of course, I knew that wind and tornadoes could come along with the rain, lightning and thunder, but it was just a part of the summertime. I don't recall that there was ever a time that we had to evacuate our tents and go to the dining hall for safety. We just hung out in those canvas tents and waited. Some girls would cry and I knew they were afraid, but I just tried to calm them down.

We drove through thunderstorms in Iowa and Missouri and I just - slept; had no clue it was blustery as Jack forged onward toward the Land of Kansas that claims Dorothy and all-things-Oz.

After a ten hour drive, we arrived in Manhattan, the town in which we once lived. The Flint Hills were lush and verdant green as we cruised north down Highway 177, now named the Coach Bill Snyder Highway. I scanned the horizon of the Konza Prairie for the bison that reside there on the last tall grass prairie stand that exists in the Midwest. The prairie was purchased for Kansas State University by the Nature Conservancy by funds provided by Katherine Ordway. The Ordway family was also behind the funding of the Ordway Theatre in downtown Saint Paul and oddly enough, the name of the recent Flint Hills International Children's Festival is connected to the Konza Prairie right here!

As things do, much has changed here since we moved to Minnesota. But some things never change. Manhattan is known as one of the friendliest towns of its size. People still gather all summer in the City Park for concerts every Friday evening for the Arts in the Park series. The City Pool, a central location for teens, families and students is undergoing an upgrade so it will soon have a wave pool, slides and other cool summery water fun. Any time of the day if one were to eat at a restaurant in Aggieville, the college-cool area near campus or downtown Manhattan, one would see all sorts of regular folks around town: friends, acquaintances, faculty, staff folks, city officials, attorneys, clergy, car sales people and just any ole person. Everyone fits in Manhattan. It's kind of laid back and casual. It's just fun!

Tonight after a little potluck some of our Aikido friends hosted for us, we headed back to the west side of town. The lighting in the clouds was back lighting the mountainous cloud bank. Thunderstorms in Manhattan, Kansas are spectacular. They usually roll in from the west-southwest over the Flint Hills of the Konza Prairie.

Things change and things stay the same...it's just a thing we live with yes? So, I'm thinking about my class tomorrow, going back to campus, meeting new folks, learning new names, making new friends, and feeling like - yet again - I'm on the verge of another adventure. Who knows where the learning will take me or what new discoveries lie ahead. All I know is that it's a blessing to be able to take some time away from my regular routine and harness myself to the ways of scholarship and student, if only for a week.

No biking tonight - I do draw the line when the lightning is making its presence mightily known. But tomorrow is a new biking day!

Frogs

We've had so much rain these past two weeks off and on.

I'm a bit worried.

Not about the rain, but that I haven't seen my frogs. Yes, I know they are God's but when they come and reside with me in the pine tree haven, I'd like to claim them as my neighbors. Anyway, I haven't seen nary a Leopard Frog or Green Tree Frog. I've only seen one tiny toad in my yard near the fire pit. That's it! With this amount of rain, they usually magically appear - in my yard, hanging out on my back door catching bugs - you know, doing froggy things.

The brown wood frogs usually don't appear until later in July and August, so I won't worry about them - yet. The Minnesota Pollution Control Agency has a site that has for children with photos of deformed frogs! I was dismayed!

Background Info on Deformed Frogs in Minnesota

Deformed frogs were discovered in Minnesota in 1995. The MPCA researched the problem from 1997 through 2000. As of July 2001, the MPCA is no longer funded by the Minnesota Legislature to continue deformed frog research. To learn why the funding and research was discontinued, please read the following fact sheet.

So you'll need to go to that link and read up on this! I did. This is why we need to worry:

Frog populations around the world have showed increasing signs of stress in recent years. Some species have disappeared, and others are no longer found where they used to be. An increase in deformities may be a sign that something is wrong.

Scientists are concerned about what's happening to the frogs, because the health of frogs is closely linked to the health of the environment. Frogs are sensitive to pollution, because they live at the meeting of two environments -- land and water -- and they can easily absorb pollutants through their skin. Just as miners used canaries in the mines to alert them to poisonous gases, frogs may alert us to problems in our environment.

Most of the photos are of the beloved Leopard Frog. These are the ones that my sisters, Carol and sometimes Kathy, and I would gather at Leech Lake while on vacation. They were everywhere and many of them were HUGE and they were NOT deformed! We had a "catch and release" philosophy with our frogs. Catch them all week and put them into cold water in a large cooking pot from the cabin that our mom let us keep right outside the backdoor. Then after a week of blissful and adventuresome capturing of our frogs, on the last day we'd have a ceremony of releasing them and let them go. Only to return the next summer and begin the process all over again. I like to imagine those frogs saying, "phew," and breathing a sigh of relief to each other when our parents decided that a trip to the Badlands or Colorado was in order for that year.

So, I know the frogs must be out there somewhere. I've heard them along the way on my bike rides through Quarry Park or along County Road 8. Still, I get a bit concerned about things like this and now that Minnesota has deformed frogs and we can't even find the funds to find out why, well, this is certainly not a good thing. I worry about my backyard or the world without frogs because I would miss them and also because I know that if that happens - it means bad things are happening in God's creation. I lament.

It rained a lot today. I was weary. I must say, as every writer or blogger every now and then must face human frailty. I was so weary today trying to get ready to leave for my next adventure to Kansas for my summer intensive class. My independent study time is coming to an end. This saddened me greatly. I don't know if I'll be able to continue my writing or my daily biking, In fact, I was so weary and busy getting ready with Jack, that it was too late to bike, even for night-biking-me. I run smack dab into my limitations over and over again. Everyone does...it's frustrating. At least it's frustrating for me. I lament again.

I know that I won't be able to read everything I want to in this lifetime or see every part of the world that fascinates me. I won't be able to create all the beauty I hope to. This is the lesson we all learn over time. Time is short, love is real. We are only given a little bit of time on earth and we can only do - as folks say - what we can do.

This is a lot really. We can all do and be wonderful for, with and to one another.

Tonight I lament that I may not be able to write this reflections for you, for me and for the universe longing to hear stories of healing and wonder, of lament and rejoicing.

I love writing. I love words. I love frogs and so, so, so love the world God created with you in it. I love my family and friends. So, friends, keep vigil with me and let me know what you see, notice, feel and sense.

The Camp Fire Girl has to get some shut-eye for the travels ahead.

Blessed be!

Let there be night biking, stars -- and fireflies!

In keeping with my pledge to bike every day...I went out after dark.

Now, in my neighborhood out near the Mississippi River, that means that it's super dark. So, I took a little red LED flashlight out to my bike to supplement my very cool Knog White Frog White LED Bike Light that doesn't put any light on the road.

Biking at night is amazing. The air smells different. There are different sounds and the lack of some of the day sounds: no lawn mowers, drills, saws, people yelling, children shouting (not that there's anything wrong with any of those sounds) or traffic. There are just some things that you can't see or hear until the sun sets and the evening activities are set in motion. One cannot see bats in flight busying themselves with eating about 3 times their weight in mosquitoes. One cannot witness the magnificent silent flight of owls, hear coyotes or listen to the plaintive cries of nighthawks in flight.

Certainly there are things that one can only see at dawn and throughout the day and all those are bright, beautiful and worthy of our attention. As a night-person (which suits me well in my role as a campus pastor and the students who are up at all hours of the night) I bear witness to those nighttime events. While I love sunrises, morning glories, early bird songs and I'm grateful to those who regularly bear witness to those lovely occurrences, I am a person of the night. Each of us, in honor of all of our bio-rhythms, need to keep the vigil and learn from all manner of creation's activities around the clock.

Back to night biking: in support of night-biking safety, let's have a big yes to lights - both head lights and flashing red tail lights are essential. In the remote, lonely neighborhoods where there is little traffic, I ride on the center line. I do this for several reasons:

1) I can get to either side of the rode more quickly should the need arise.

2) riding on the thin white line can be actually hazardous: there can be debris at the side of the road - cans, boards and random things, including trash cans depending on which trash night it is around town and sometimes people accidentally leave the little doors to those on the side of the road mailboxes open - argh! If you hit this, it can leave a gash in your arm and if you're lucky enough to see it in time to swerve - well, you just might crash.

3) The center line is often more reflective and clearer than that thin, white line...

Biking in the dark is fine. It's sort of akin to walking in the dark. Anyone can do it. We did this a lot at camp without our flashlights at night walking to the Theater - that's what we called the bathrooms at Camp Hitaga - just to see if we could do it. Your eyes adjust to your night vision. Human beings, awash in the light pollution of the cities and streets lights in the country, somehow forget this incredibly nifty thing about our eyes. But riding a bike does require a bit of light and this is a good thing. I like riding at night because it narrows my focus to what's right in front of me. I like not being able to see what gear I'm in because I have to shift by feel. Usually - being me and an athlete - I love to push my limits and try to ride in 3x7th gear - the hardest gear on my bike. At night, I can't see the numbers at all and it's a good and freeing thing.

So, looking at the ground slightly ahead of my flashlight, I saw an unmistakable, tiny flashing light. It was a lightning bug in the road! I stopped to talk to it, picked it up and placed it on the side of the road so it could flash merrily away and not get run over. According to certain folks, my first-found lightning bug of the summer, also known as a firefly, was probably a female flashing from the ground to the males flying in the sky trying to find a mate. This is one of the holy occurrences that one can only see at night.

The official name of this incredible beetle is Lampyridae. As far as I can tell from my research of this cool insect, it is the only flying bioluminescent bug in the world! Imagine that! Scientists are still not sure how lightning bugs regulate the process of turning their lights on and off.

At camp there always seemed to be so many more lightning bugs than in town - kind of like how it is with the stars in the country where there is little light pollution. When I was riding my bike home two days earlier at dusk (the night that the o-so-exuberant-golden-retriever wanted to bite my shoe laces while I was riding) I saw the first star of the evening, though no lightning bugs on the way home that night.

Star light, star bright - first star I see tonight

I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight...

I spoke this aloud as I rode along and then tried to sing, When You Wish Upon a Star from Pinocchio, but I couldn't quite remember all the words. Oh well, "I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish...." But I couldn't make a wish at all. I was all wished out.

I'd been immersed in a sad family situation that seems to have no solution. No wishes. I'd already wished those all before. There is was again: in the midst of sadness there was beauty and in the midst of the beauty there was a recognition of the swirled messy, complicated-ness of life. A paradox.

Then, the lightning bug appeared in my path! I paused to meet it with joy!

I rather like to think that the lightning bugs are the incarnation of starlight on earth. They remind us that, though "we are stardust" as Joni Mitchell sings and the stars seem ever-so-far-away, the twinkling and flashes of the fireflies are God's little hint in the misty, summer indigo night sky that the starlight is closer than we can imagine. All we need to do, even when we've pitched all our wishes down the abyss of the well of life, is to wait for a new star, a new day, a new light and a new hope.

So, may the lightning bugs abound in back yards and city parks, at camp grounds and fields so that I might be reminded of the simple wonder of each flit and flicker. In so doing, thereby perhaps my wishing ability might be reignited for another night and I will be able to sing with childlike wonder:

Twinkle, twinkle little star how I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky

Twinkle, twinkle little star how I wonder what you are

Homesick

Homesick...

This is a funny-ish, odd word.

But it suggests a sadness, a longing, an illness - a dis-ease, perhaps.

When I went off to camp for the first time, I think I was in the second grade so I was going to be an Ammikana-girl. Those girls, I found out upon my arrival at camp during the opening campfire ceremony, wore autumn-orange scarves. Very cool - the whole wearing of the different colored scarf-thing.

Before I left for camp, Mom said that I might get homesick. Ick - what was that, I wondered? "Well, it's when you miss your home so much that you might cry and want me to come and get you," she explained. "The first time you go away from home for a long time (I had only been on overnights at my cousins' or my close girlfriends' houses) you might get really sad."

Oh, for crying out loud I thought. Not me!

But sure enough, just when I thought I had it all "handled" - what, with me successfully navigating sleeping in my little red sleeping bag on my bunk bed in our little cabin, morning swimming lessons in the frigidly cold pool, camp crafts, eating in the huge dining hall, learning songs, purchasing junk at camp store and walking all the way down to the riding stable for my first ever horseback riding lesson - splat! It hit me in the face on Wednesday night like one of those wet swoosh balls that kids play with in their home pools. I think you can't take those to the public pools anymore because kids were hitting friends in the face with them.

Little Ammikana-me: I lay in my bunk sobbing silently. I wanted to go home - now, right then, come and get me - MOM! How could this me happening to me? Ugh. I was so lonesome and sad for my dad and my mom - not my sisters so much, not yet.

Homesickness, is in its first, fevered wave, a people/personsickness. Spell check doesn't believe that these are words, but I do. In this fevered state, suddenly there is an unexplainable hankering for the people who make you feel loved, the ones who say prayers with you at dinnertime or at your bedside. It's a desperate yearning for a hug, a plate of your favorite food, a special story and a good night kiss on the forehead.

The next wave of this sick fever is missing places. As you succumb to your illness, suddenly you miss your own bed, a blanket, maybe the swing set in your back yard and the little friends who come over to play in your sandbox. It's thinking about a favorite climbing tree or the family dog you pet every day or a walk down to the local pharmacy with the neighborhood kids, a dime from Mom in your pocket so that you can go buy an orange Push-up or rocket Popsicle on a hot summer day. Those were some of the things I was missing while at camp.

Oddly enough, this strange illness can reverse itself and revisit you upon your arrival to the home and people you so sadly pined for and smack - another wet whoosh ball hits you between your eyes: you miss the camp! For crying out loud - what a crazy, goofy illness. No wonder moms and dads every where have to warn you about this. Thank goodness they're there to help you survive!

Nowadays, I still get homesick in both phases of that mysterious ailment that overwhelms me at times. As time moves on and we with it, I think we miss our childhoods, sometimes. We miss the amazing wonder of growing up and of course we tend to forget the horrible, ugly moments while the cherished ones ebb into a golden glow.

I miss different things about the places in which I've lived: the huge sycamore tree I climbed in my backyard at 3301 Mansfied Ave and Indian Creek in Cedar Rapids or the flat rock at Luther College upon which I sat and thought and thought and thought some more. I long for Percy Priest Lake, Cheekwood Park or the Narrows of the Harpeth in Nashville. I miss watching the dolphins in Tampa Bay or windsurfing at the Dunedin Causeway or visiting the special spots at Delray or Pompano Beach inlet or Bahia Honda Key or any place where I could see the azure blue water off the coast of Florida.

I miss hiking the Konza Prairie Trail and climbing its big, 100+ year old burr oak tree, canoeing the Lyons Creek, sailing on Tuttle Creek Lake and riding the bike trails in Manhattan, Kansas.

Everywhere I've lived, I've befriended the flora and fauna of my realm. I got to know their names, their sounds, their dangers and their beauty - I miss their old familiar faces when I'm away from them, too.

But most of all, I miss people. And so I've come to understand that the first fever of the sickness is the most important one to tend to because its the one that can really do a number on you. My friends, George Baum and Michael Bridges, have a new song in their new CD called HERE.

It's called 2 Things and I've been singing and humming it over and over the last few days:

There are two important things about this life

One is love - and the other is time.

Time is short, love is real

So tell me how you feel

There are two important things about this life.

That's it. Short, simple - hauntingly beautiful and says so much. Oh, and I think you can get "songsick," too, but I digress...

Back to peoplesickness. Pay attention to that one. If you're longing for a certain someone - find a way to let them know. If you can't let them know, well, I say - just pray for them in an earnest, sincere loving way. Trust that God will tend to them while you cannot.

I kind of think that God hopes that we are homesick, maybe we'd call it "Godsick" (somehow that doesn't sound quite right) anyway, so Godsick that we long so much to rest and snuggle into the lap of the familiar things of God: love, peace, hope, forgiveness, kindness, grace and gentleness that we'd do anything to get closer and call out, "GOD, I want to come home!" Maybe that's how it is in our last moments, in our last breaths as we slip into another future and a home with God.

Well, until then, pay attention to your homesick self - take good care of the illness, treat your self and others well.

Here's a little "peoplesick" video I made. It's called 2 Things...