Hawkeye WBB, Pink, Cancer and Me

They say, "it's just a game," and that's true. But it's also more than a game. When the storied Iowa Women's Basketball team, led by the legendary and magical unicorn-person, Caitlin Clark, lost to undefeated powerhouse South Carolina's team and came in second in the nation for the second time in two years, it was sad. For me, it was sad for different reasons. 

First, I was sad for them - all of them - the whole team and all their coaches. Caitlin Clark appeared on their court in Iowa City in 2020 joining the other players, playing in an empty Carver Hawkeye Arena to cardboard cutouts of people due to the COVID19 pandemic. Eventually, they played to the record-breaking millions of fans who packed arenas everywhere they went, along with the epic television/online audiences, she made her way humbly rocketing to superstardom. But she didn't do it alone. She did it with a team and together they were beyond outstanding and amazing! Second, it was sad for the hundreds of thousands - really millions of fans, especially kids - whose hopes were dashed. The Hawkeyes, for both years, were really categorized as underdogs, even though they had been winning, winning a lot. Somehow, the established and highly vaunted programs and prognosticators could not fathom that Iowa, that university in the middle of nowhere (so they implied) could ever make it to the Sweet Sixteen. 

As an athlete myself, I've always loved sports, especially women's sports - all kinds of sports! Even when I lived far away from Iowa, I followed them and cheered them on. But last year, at the end of January 2023, I was diagnosed with early stage one breast cancer. It was shocking and very upsetting. No one in my family has any history of any kind of cancer. This news upended my life in so many ways. I was so fortunate in that I was a poster-person for early detection. The spot was so small, even the surgeon couldn't feel it. So, I was scheduled for a lumpectomy on February 27, 2023, just about the time that the Hawkeyes were winding down their regular conference schedule and preparing for the Big Ten Championship in Minneapolis, March 1-5. 

On March 5, the day they won the Big Ten Championship, I had to go back to the hospital because I had a very painful infection in my incision wound. I was so sick and was there for five days. When the doctor sent me home, she said all I could do was sleep and stay home. So, I did that and I started watching a lot of NCAAW's March Madness games. I saw Caitlin and her teammates do ridiculously amazing things. I watched them struggle and overcome adversity and I saw them do it together - with genuine joy and love; love for each other, the game, the coaches and their fans. I watched as they, after each game, faithfully and kindly signed autographs for the droves of kids who clamored and cheered for them. I watched them living a miracle of their own participation and unfolding, creating stories and memories out of shared dreams, grit, tough-it-out-ness and humility. It was beautiful and especially spellbinding because I was so very weak and sick, laying on the couch to heal - in wonder of them all. 

 Growing up in Iowa when I did, as a young girl I shunned the color pink, especially pastel pink. The messages all around me growing up were that pink was a girly color, a sweet and feminine color. While a color can't be weak, the message was that pink embodied weakness and not strength, passiveness and not assertiveness, cuteness and not power. I didn't want to associate with that, so I intentionally chose to not wear pink, at least not very often and only a few articles of pink. I was a track girl, a horseback riding girl, a Campfire girl, a biking girl, a gymnast girl, a strong girl - not...pink. I was always a robin's egg blue and turquoise girl. I liked bright colors, too. Growing up in Iowa, I wasn't aware at the time (before Title IX) that my state was fairly progressive for girl's sports in schools. Although it wasn't up to the standards of support like the boy's teams, at least we had teams when other states had few sports programs for girls. Growing up in Iowa, I was also aware that my state often got tagged as the "corn state" or even worse the "smelly pig state." People across the country often made fun of Iowa, saying that we must all live on farms and grow corn - dumb stuff like that. When we'd go for family trips to Minnesota, there were often souvenir shops that would sell plaques and t-shirts making fun of Iowa. This bothered me, like pink. 

So, when I found out I had cancer, my dear sisters - who were so supportive of me in my scary cancer journey - were lovingly and mildly amused that I was now on the Power of Pink team, because of course, almost everyone knows that pink ribbons are the support ribbon for breast cancer and I was now on that team. So, I embraced my new team - the powerful pink team that has grit and determination to beat this horrible disease. I was now a pink-girl, all kinds of pink; powder and pastel pink; hot pink and magenta pink in all sorts of clothing. I have pink hats, pink shirts (I already owned a rose-colored clergy shirt), pink socks, pink hightop shoes, under garments, bandanas and scarves, a hot pink backpack, biking gloves and accents on my new sky blue road bike. Lots of pink. I got a very cool pink biking kit (a jersey and biking shorts) that I wore on the last day of RAGBRAI riding 75-miles from Iowa City to Davenport, Iowa. Pink people, all of us surviving breast cancer, are my people. 

I knew that various athletic teams wear pink in October in support of Breast Cancer Awareness month. I wasn't aware that there was such a thing as Pink Out Day for teams. And then, I saw the Hawkeye women's basketball team in their pink uniforms and I was smitten - once again. I read about Pink Out Day, the Play4Kay initiative is a nationally recognized event to support the Kay Yow Cancer Fund. Yow, the former women's basketball head coach at North Carolina State helped create the Kay Yow Cancer Fund to assist those battling breast cancer. In 2023, the Hawkeyes rocked their pink jerseys on February 12. 

Nearly a year after my breast cancer diagnosis, I had a follow-up mammogram and - huzzah - no evidence of cancer! I was still cancer-free! I called/texted/messaged tons of people - all the people who had prayed for me and supported me! I celebrated and I decided that I was going to get a Caitlin Clark 22 Pink Out Jersey and I was going to try to go to some of the games, even though I knew that they were all sold out. Through an all-too-long and weird story to tell, someone sent me that very jersey that I was trying to order. It arrived in late January. I still don't know who sent it to me, but I was thrilled! I would wear it every time we'd watch the games with my family and cheer them on or be sad with them when they lost. 

My sister Carol and I made a plan to go to the Iowa v. Wisconsin game on January 16, an early treat for our birthdays. Then, on Saturday January 13, there was a big blizzard, frigid below-zero temps and gusting winds. The Iowa v. Indiana game was that night and people were unloading their tickets on SeatGeek for rock bottom prices. I texted Carol, she reached out to our sister, Kathy. "Do you want to go to the game tonight?" she asked. "Yes," exclaimed Kathy, "I'll drive!" So, we crazy Iowa-girl sisters drove to Iowa City for our first Iowa Women's Basketball game in a harrowing blizzard and blustery windchills. We had a blast and I was overcome with emotion many times. When the sold-out (again it was sold out even though it was blizzard-hoops) crowd roars together, you are the cheer. It reverberates through your body in a way that's hard to explain. We were there as something bigger than ourselves. We were part of the Hawkeye nation on this remarkable ride with them. They won their game over Indiana - a pay back because Indiana beat them on their home court. 

 

Carol and I went to our game on January 16, they won again! 

Then, I noticed that their Pink Out game was on February 25, Carol's birthday. I told Carol and Kathy that we could try to go to the game. This was the plan: that we'd drive to Iowa City in the morning for brunch, keep checking the SeatGreek site to see if the prices went down right before the game - and they did! We all went to the Pink Out game, I with my pink jersey and I stood up with all the other survivors while everybody cheered for us while Rachel Patton's "Fight Song" blared over the sound system. Each Hawkeye player wore a pink jersey with the name of the woman or family member that they were remembering or supporting. It was all so wonderful, exhilarating and - a blessing, really. 

This is the spot where CC hit her record-breaking logo 3!

It's not "just a game" for me. Caitlin Clark is our home-girl, our Iowa girl. She was born here and she chose to go to the University of Iowa when she was recruited to go many places - actually, she thought at first she would be going to Notre Dame, where the women's basketball program is legendary (Caitlin is from a Catholic family). But something in her spirit said she needed to be in Iowa City with Coach Lisa Bluder. Caitlin was very good at her Dowling Catholic High School, but she wasn't the player she became until she went to Iowa. Caitlin Clark got better and better, as a player and as a person, at Iowa. Her teammates who became her best friends helped her to be better in all sorts of ways. They became better players as they played together - mutually inspiring one another, lifting each other up, holding each other accountable, becoming a magical team - together. The story goes that in one practice, now dubbed The Scrimmage, Caitlin started to make 3-point shots from almost half-court - the logo area. She did it over and over again - surprising even herself. Her teammates cheered her on, and so she was on a mission to be the best - with them.

Here they are on April 1, 2024 after they won their game over LSU!

Watching the Iowa Hawkeye women, for me, has been an emotional inspiration. For me, I vividly remember the times long ago when my girlfriends at Washington High School, Hannah Stuelke's alma mater, played 6-person half-court basketball. They had to do this because "expert" people (men) said that girls could not run the whole court (3 girls would be on one half of the court and pass it at half court to the other three). Girls were too weak, too frail, too "pink" to get so out of breath and sweaty. I watch CC and her team, and all the other fabulous women's teams and I am so thankful. I'm thankful for all of those people - women and men alike - who stood up for girl's and women's athletics, and all the other ways we have worked to support girls and women in all of their endeavors with all of their dreams to be on equal footing and funding with the boys and the men. 

I'm grateful because it did make a difference and it made a difference for a little girl who grew up in Des Moines, Iowa; a fiercely competitive girl who loved sports, especially basketball. And now, the sport of women's (and men's) college basketball has been forever changed by an Iowan who happens to be the greatest of all time - not only in great in basketball but also as a great human being, inspiring little girls and boys to dream big. My sad tears for them only coming in second two years in a row (a remarkable feat at that!) flow into the grateful, beautiful and probably proud Iowan tears of - of vindication perhaps. Our girl, our power pink girl, took flight and led a nation on a wild and ridiculous journey of logo threes, quarterback-like, laser-like bounce passes and behind-the-back passes to assist her teammates and so much more. She did that - with her team and all of us and I am so glad that I was a witness to this miracle girl, our very own Caitlin Clark, when I was facing my own fragile mortality - she and her team lifted me up. Thank you, Caitlin. I'm gonna miss ya, too. 

On Sunday, after they lost, in the afternoon I asked Jack to take some photos of me before I took my Pink Out CC 22 jersey off to hang it up. I'll be wearing it to their welcome home celebration on April 10, 2024. 

 

Remembering and Reflecting

 It's Memorial Day and, of course, it's day to honor the memory of those who died in service in our country, including military service members, peacemakers and ambassadors. We are grateful for their public service to our nation. 

I'm also remembering two of my clergy women friends who died recently. The Rev. Ruth Drews, my Resident Assistant (RA) from my first year at Luther College days, died from complications following her leukemia bone marrow treatment on May 22nd. She was only 68 years old. My other dear friend, the Rev. Kara Baylor, the chaplain of Carthage College in Kenosha, WI, died three days later on May 25, 2023. She was only 52. Both of my friends were survivors of breast cancer. Both of them experienced additional, serious health challenges in the years after they survived breast cancer. Both of them loved bike riding. 

Ruth at the Iowa RAGBRAI in 2016

Kara in a Wisconsin race in 2017

Ruth reached out to me via Facebook Messenger after she read my posts about my early stage one breast cancer diagnosis and lumpectomy surgery on February 27th. I didn't really get to hang out with Ruth very much at Luther. She was my awesome RA, along with her roommate and fellow RA, Cindy. I was busy getting to know my friends and immersing myself in the studies and activities. She was a senior and graduated in 1976. She went on to Yale Divinity School back in the days when there weren't very many women. She served congregations out east so, I never saw her in person again. Only chatted on FB when she took it upon herself to post fun, old photos of us from our floor and in messages. 

Here's her post from March 3rd:

I don't know if you know that I am an 18 year-old breast cancer survivor, Stage 2 almost Stage 3. I had    a mastectomy, chemo (8 treatments) and then radiation. The whole thing was about 7 months, and IT SUCKED--but it many ways, was not as bad as it could have been, and was, for some people. So, I WISH you well--and even if you have to have more than the surgery, hang in there, because you will make it through fine! Prayers and cheers coming from me!

I wrote back on March 4th:

Hi Ruth, I'm sorry I didn't know you had cancer. Thanks for reaching out to me with your story. I'm glad that you're doing well and survived! I'm 5 days past surgery and still have a lot of pain.    

On April 14th she wrote:

I sure hope it has gotten better. I now have pneumonia, not life threatening I believe, but NOT great for a leukemia patient, Vented days and the whole bit, but hopefully better now.

In the days that followed, I didn't know that she had taken a turn for the worse. I was wrapped up in my own healing, surviving cancer surgery and the post-op nightmare that ensued. I was just trying to conserve my energy to get through the end of the semester flurry and Coe College's May 6 Baccalaureate and May 7 Commencement responsibilities along with a little international student wedding on May 10th. I feel sad about Ruth. She was a remarkable human being, pastor and friend to so many people. She touched and changed so many lives. She was a force of nature!

Pastor Ruth Drews with some youth at Resurrection Lutheran Church, New Haven, CT

On April 15th, I wrote her back at length about my return to the hospital on March 4th for five days with an excruciating cellulitis infection in my incision wound and the days following. She wrote me back the next day:

So tough! It can go fine--until it doesn't. Blessings and insight and contentment on whatever path you choose next.

It can go fine -- until it doesn't. This phrase is haunting. It was fine for Ruth -- until it wasn't. It was fine for Kara -- until it wasn't. Kara's cancer was in remission. She had troubles with her heart as well. Kara was my roommate at our 2015 ELCA College Chaplains' Retreat at the Spirit in the Desert Retreat Center in Carefree, AZ. It was in the next year that she found out that she had breast cancer. She had surgery and chemo. She lost her hair and rocked a cool baseball style cap over her bald dome.

Pastor Kara Baylor in the front center with all of us at Spirit in the Desert Retreat Center, 2015

On June 26, 2021, she hosted a Thank You gathering for all her family and friends who had supported her along the way. I made a plan to attend and show my support and love. It was a beautiful gathering in Kenosha, WI and it was good to give Kara a hug and share stories. She was so happy that the treatments seemed to work and that the worst was behind her. At that time, I talked to her about the possibility of her returning to her bike riding. She and I shared a love for riding bike trails. Since her balance wasn't very good, I suggested that she consider a cool three-wheeled bike. They make them nowadays in very light materials and they are easy to operate. She said she'd give it some thought. I mentioned that I could make a plan to return and ride with her. In June of 2021, she got her new wheels!

On December 30, 2022 she wrote:

Since 2014, I have had a major medical issue, dealing with my heart or cancer, in even numbered years. 2022 has had no major issues with either my cancer or heart. Happy to change this life pattern. Please celebrate with me!

In a few short months from this post, in February, both Kara and I were preparing to celebrate Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday on both of our campuses. Both of us had to curtail or cancel Ash Wednesday due to a huge midwestern ice storm that swept through Iowa and Wisconsin. It was always fun to see what my colleagues were doing on their campuses. I loved seeing the meanigful events that Kara hosted with her students. Kara was a force of nature!

And so, we celebrated with her -- until -- we couldn't. She began to have troubles with her vision. The cancer went to her brain. It was so awful to think about this for her. Kara, this brilliant, bright, compassionate and courageous pastor and amazing women, struggled to write make sentences on FB - but still, she tried -- until she couldn't. On May 19th at 11:02 pm, she posted this: "I can't post anything anymore. I can't make sure it's current." My heart is breaking for her family and all who loved her. Her death happened right before the Carthage College Commencement weekend. As the Chaplain of the College, she would have had official responsibilities in offering prayers and being present at the spiritual guide for those in that flock. This year, the college community is experiencing great loss and sorrow in the midst of their celebrations. 

There are so, so, so many tributes to Kara in her FB page; too numerous to recount. But I'd like to post one of them from a friend that captures the deep sense of connection to Kara. This is from Carrie Espinosa, the Assistant Dean of Students to the University of Chicago: 

Almost every night, my daughter asks me to tell her a talking story as I give her bedtime snuggles. Tonight, I told her about Kara Skatrud Baylor, Campus Pastor at Carthage College, who baptized her a few months after she was born. Just a few short months ago, Kara also gave me the recommendation of who to baptize our son after transitioning to UChicago: Pastor Nancy at Augustana Lutheran Church, the pastor she remembered from attending church during her seminary years in Hyde Park. I smiled, knowing that this church, a block from my office, had an outdoor fridge offering food to those in need and pictures of community members who lost their lives to senseless gun violence, calling for peace. How perfect.

When the pastor (who said ‘of course!’ she remembered Kara) asked me why I chose them, I smiled again and explained more or less, ‘I trust Kara. Kara knows my heart.’

I will choose to remember you this way: Passionate about helping faculty, staff and students alike step into their calling. Fierce in your advocacy for interfaith understanding and social justice. Proud mom, amazing colleague, and confidant to many, including me.

I told Amelia, ‘I’m going to miss her’ and went quiet. My sweet four year old hugged me and asked, ‘but you’re going to carry her in your heart, right mom?’

Yes, yes I am.

There are thousands of us who will be carrying Pastor Kara and Pastor Ruth in our hearts. I'll be one of them. These amazing women made a huge difference in so many lives and made the world a better place in the name of Jesus. They were the best reflection of the love of God in Jesus that sets us free to love others and to work for justice and peace in the world. I hope that my one, little life is also a reflection of their tenacity, compassion, fierce love of justice and God's wide-armed welcome to all people in Jesus' name. I'm reflecting now, on the threshold of the 40th Anniversary of my Ordination into Word and Sacrament Ministry (when Ruth was 28 and Kara was 12), June 5, 1983, about the blessings of my life - not only in my ministry but also as an Aikido instructor and a sailor, as an artist and a musician - in which I've been blessed by so many people. First of all, my very dear and loving family and then my extended family throughout the church and all the friends I've met along the way.

My Ordination, June 5, 1983 in Christ Chapel, Gustavus Adolphus College, St. Peter, MN

As a breast cancer survivor, the deaths of my friends are particularly tender, poignant and sad. I'm mindful that it could be my path if early detection weren't part of my story. By all accounts and by the evaluation of my physicians, I should be fine. My cancer spot, tiny early stage one, was so small at .4cm that no one, especially me, could even feel it. My margins were clear and there was no cancer in my lymph nodes. That is all very good news and I'm so grateful. I'm now on endocrine medication to suppress the hormones that feed those little cancer cells. All indicators point to this is being very effective in keeping the cancer from recurring.

But I'm keely aware that life can take strange and unexpected turns. I survived severe sepsis in 2008 as a fluke result of a necrotic spider bite wound. By all accounts, I shouldn't be here and I'm a miracle "spider-woman," of sorts. There, by the grace of God, we all go. No one is guaranteed a life without pain, suffering, hardship or dire illness. All we can do is to trust on the love of God that comes to us in the anticipated ways, through family members and friends, as well as in mysterious ways - through the treasured gifts and skills of doctors and nurses, oncologists and technicians. As I said back then in 2008 and echo once again: life is fragile, handle with prayer and handle with care.

Be blessed to be a blessing and seek to lavish love on all you meet, even when it may be hard or scary. Someone somewhere may be hurting and wounded inside. Be like Ruth, be like Kara - be your authentic, kind, loving self - the world needs you and your bright, shining soul and heart.

Groundhog Day

On the second day of February, most folks have an awareness that it's Groundhog Day.  It's on the calendar after all. Groundhog Day is a peculiar holiday, if one could call it a holiday. It's commemorated in a town fairly close to where I live, Punxsutawney, PA. Punxsutawney Phil, the esteemed groundhog, emerges from its burrow and the human observers determine whether the squinty rodent has seen its shadow, or not. The day was whimsically and dramatically portrayed in the 1993 film by the same name, Groundhog Day, with Bill Murray playing the character of Phil Connors. Phil, a reporter sent to do a story on Groundhog Day, experiencing it over and over and over again. 

Margaret at her K-State graduation

February 2 was Margaret Kritsch Anderson's birthday. 

Of course, when her birthday would roll around in our Lutheran Campus Ministry circle at K-State, we'd have to joke about it being on Groundhog Day. Born in 1977, she would have been 39 years old. As I've written and you may well know, Margaret was murdered on January 1, 2012. On that New Year's Day, in Mount Rainier National Park, Margaret was fatally shot in the line of duty on the road to Paradise at Mount Rainier National Park. Margaret responded to a call to intercept a vehicle that failed to stop at a chain-up checkpoint. The driver of the vehicle opened fire on Margaret, killing her, and then he fled on foot into the woods and later died of exposure.

Margaret on her last day of work, December 31, 2011, in Mount Rainier National Park

A photo I took at Margaret's memorial service, her boots are in the foreground

Our Thiel College student group at the 2015 ELCA Extravaganza

February 2 is also another poignant day of remembrance for me and one that I haven't been able to write about until today.  A year ago, I was with eight amazing Thiel College students and two great colleagues in ministry, Pastor Laurie Carson and Vicar Tara Lamont Eastman, at the ELCA Extravaganza for youth and family ministry in Detroit, MI. We were having a marvelous time until the morning of February 2. 

We were getting ready to head into another great morning session, when I got a call from Louie urging me to come up to his room. Something was wrong with his roommate, Cody Danner. I raced up to their room and discovered Cody in distress. Cody was recovering from a surgery to repair a break in the small bones in his foot. He needed to be in a wheelchair and Louie had been wheeling him around to the events of our gathering. Louie said that Cody had tried to get up and had fallen down, twice. He was disoriented and his face with a pale shade of blue. I asked Louie questions, I asked Cody questions about what he could feel, about his heart and I felt his forehead. It was icy cool. Cody, it seemed to me, was dying! 

"We have to call 911," I told Louie. So, I grabbed the room phone and dialed the front desk. I urgently told them that we needed emergency crews to come. While we were waiting, I messaged others in our group to let them know that we had an emergency. I asked Cody's friend Cheryl to come up and be with us. The first responders were the hotel medics. They tried to get a pulse, to no avail. Quickly, they applied oxygen. The EMT guys arrived next and took over, put Cody on a stretcher and wheeled him down to the lobby. Detroit was under a snow emergency and there were near blizzard conditions. Louie, Cheryl and I were allowed to ride in the ambulance with Cody.  We were whisked off to the Detroit Medical Center Emergency Room.  

After much waiting and testing, the doctors discovered that Cody had a large pulmonary embolism lodge in the saddle between his lungs near his heart. Had we waited or had other decisions been made, Cody would have surely died, they told him. 

We spent many long, tense hours in the hospital. Cody had authorized me to call his family and his fiancee way on the east coast of Pennsylvania to tell them about his condition. His mom posted this prayer request on her Facebook page: 

"Hi everyone I am asking for your prayers for our boy Cody Danner. He is in the hospital and we are waiting on an update from Pastor Jayne who is now my angel for being with my son at his time of need when we can't be there. She is a blessing to my family right now. I just ask for prayers that everything will be okay for our son. Be strong buddy your family loves you lots." 

Cody's family mom, dad and fiancee jumped in the car and headed toward Detroit. Meanwhile, I stayed with Cody and my other friends stayed back with the rest of the students at the hotel. We had to get them back to Thiel and I was going to remain until Cody's family made to Detroit. 

Cody and the Thiel College group joining in prayer-time in the ICU

Thankfully, Cody's surgery was successful and, with the permission of his nurses, we were all able to squish into the ICU room and share prayer time with him. The Thiel students took off for Pennsylvania and his family made it to the hospital. Once Cody was stable enough to leave, I rode back with them to campus. Cody wanted to stop in to say hello and thank you to his choir friends and band members who had been praying for him through his life threatening ordeal.

For me, this was a soul-draining experience and I think it's difficult for most folks to comprehend what it was like. I'm pretty sure that few have any idea what some pastors do in the hospital helping folks. We do everything from making friends with and engaging the nursing staff, to making inquires for the patient and the family about when the doctor will be coming by and how the tests are coming along. Essentially, we are advocates, running point and helping things happen to hopefully run smoothly for all involved in the midst of a very stressful situation.  When you're the only one available with a young person and the family is hundreds of miles away, the job is pretty intense. I'm so grateful that Louie had the presence of mind to call me and that I could be there for Cody in "his time of need" as his mom said. 

When Groundhog Day rolls around, it's filled with all sorts of memories and moments; with feelings of the sadness that comes from missing Margaret on the one hand and a sense of grateful relief that Cody is still here on the other. Cody graduated from Thiel College in May of 2015 and is back home with his family getting ready for his own wedding day. So, I give thanks to God and to all the medical people who took care of Cody and helped him mend. Cody and the rest of the students had an experience that will bind them together in ministry and friendship for the years to come. 

This is a holy calling and a blessing - this life in campus ministry amidst the gifted young adults and all the rest of the community who love them. 

Remembering Margarget

It's -- been awhile since I posted.

More about that in the days to come.

But for now, for tonight, it's a New Year's reflection. Four years ago on the fresh and first day of 2012, my cozy New Year nestled in my idyllic pine forest home in Minnesota was shattered by horrific news. Jack and I learned that one of our dear and beloved former Lutheran Campus Ministry and Aikido students from K-State was murdered. Through the anguish and tears streaming down my cheeks, I wrote about her death in The Lutheran online magazine in a post entitled, Margaret.

It wasn't just any, run-of-the-mill murder. Margaret Kritsch Anderson was serving with distinction as a park ranger in Mount Rainier National Park. On New Year's Day morning while she was assisting families and children up at the Paradise Center, she heard news over the ranger coms that someone had blasted past the snow tire check point. The driver's intentions unknown, Margaret took off in her ranger SUV to set up a blockade on the narrow and winding road that had as its destination the Paradise lodge packed with families enjoying their holiday.

Benjamin Colton Barnes, a very troubled Iraq war veteran who was notably suffering from PTSD and violent tendencies, was barreling up the mountain. His car was filled with an arsenal of weapons, including assault rifles with armor-piercing rounds. None of this was known to any of the rangers in the park, even though on New Year's Eve he had a violent altercation at a party in Seattle.

Waiting in her SUV blocking the road, Margaret was gunned down by her assailant. He fired on her vehicle as the rounds ripped through the door and her body. Then he kept other rangers at bay for 90 minutes firing on them as they tried to rescue her. Ben Barnes fled on foot down into a ravine on the mountain. He was found early the next morning lying face down in a creek.

Margaret's husband, Eric, also a ranger in the park that day, heard about all of this over the park radio as it was transpiring, but could do nothing to help his dying wife. She left behind two small daughters, Anna and Katie. They were one and three at the time. Later on in the month of January when I traveled to Seattle for her memorial service, chronicled in this post, Memorial, I met Eric and her beautiful daughters. It was heartbreaking and incredibly sad.

According to the US Center For Disease Control, there are over 33,000 deaths by firearms in our country each year. Figuring conservatively at about 30,000 firearm deaths per year, in the four years since Margaret was viciously gunned down, over 120,000 people have lost their lives due to gun violence in the USA. Let the number sink in...for a minute or so. In comparison, the Vietnam war military deaths weigh in at a bit of 58,000. It's beyond mind boggling and sobering to consider that we live in a country in which it is as if we are at war with one another and the lethal weapon of choice we use is a firearm. In one year alone, we kill the equivalent of the population one medium-sized town in America.

There are many reasons why Ben Barnes ought not to have been in possession of any weapons. The court was well aware that he was violent and it had issued a restraining order against him at the urgent plea of the mother of his daughter. His base outside of Seattle was aware of his struggle with PTSD and the list goes on. My heartbreak and the sorrow of my family, Margaret's family and friends is magnified and amplified over and over again in by other families who experience the same  in our country.

I commonly use the third person, "we," when I talk and write about this grave matter. I think we are all in this together and together, we must find a way out of this terror and violence that stalks our nation. I also believe that we are addicted to such violence and the weapons that wreak havoc on our neighbors. I fear that we are like the proverbial frogs in the kettle of water that is slowly heating up to a boil and don't know enough to leap out for our dear lives, but instead - do  nothing.

Since Margaret's murder, I've been working for change. A year after her murder, Dick Gordon of NPR's The Story, contacted me about sharing my insights about Margaret's death. I've been doing what I can, and I usually feel that it's precious little and that it's not accomplishing much at all. But on my best days, I have to believe that each small action, combined with the compassionate and persistent actions of others, must make a difference - some how.

So, I return to the words that I wrote four years ago and reflect:
But I fear that we will again, strain to make sense of the senseless act by focusing on the desperate, despicable act of a soldier gone bad. I don’t think it’s that simple. I don’t think Margaret, who was thoughtful as the day is long, would dismiss him so lightly. I know Margaret. I think she would ask deeper questions about Ben. She would wonder about his family and if any one was caring for and praying for him. Margaret would want to talk this through with others. 
We, O Church, owe it to Margaret and yes, to Ben, to ponder this more deeply. To dig down and do some New Year’s soul-searching as a nation about our addiction to violence, our support of its use under the state’s authorization in war, but our mass-projection and baffling monster-creation when one of our own turns on others out of pain, rage, despair and isolation. I didn’t know Ben, but I pray for his family and all who knew him, worried about him, loved him and mourn his violent actions and his cold, frozen death.

So, I pray, and we pray and we take faithful actions for justice, mercy and compassion. I want to keep her memory alive and before the world. Margaret was a beautiful and amazing human being. She was, and still I,s beloved by many. I hope that this tribute can give a bit of solace to all who remember and all who love her. Margaret was a campfire sort of person who loved the outdoors, her family and God. She was a beloved campus ministry peer minister and thus, her story is a fitting match for the blending of my blogs.

For the time being, as The Lutheran online magazine works on some transitions, I'm shifting my campus ministry posts to this blog. I wish you all the best and brightest blessings in this new year and I invite you to join with me in working for peace and justice for all of God's beloved children - and I mean all of God's children - in the world.

Homecoming Worship at Thiel College - Prayers and Homily

Author's note: because I haven't preached a full service since I left Minnesota and due to the nature of the spectacular service and the astounding mishap that happened right before Holy Communion, I thought this really did qualify as a Campfire Chat blog post. 

Prayer of the Day

Holy God, your mercy is great and your love endures forever. We are mindful of the many paths, roads and sidewalks we’ve traveled to join together on this morning. No matter the distance or the means of our travel to Homecoming, keep us ever mindful that our home is always in you, O God, and that you welcome us on this morning as we come to remember, to pray and to gather as the Beloved community of Jesus. Be with us all and hold us fast, in his gentle, holy and blessed name we pray. Amen. 

Luke 17:11-19

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

I don’t know if you just walked down Brother Martin’s walk to the Chapel or came up on one of the many sidewalks that brings you from down campus to this place. Alumni and friends, maybe you crossed stateliness or journeyed from the next county. Since I’ve moved to PA, I noticed that I’m crossing little boundaries often on a daily basis: from Mercer County to various townships and boroughs, not a day goes by that each of us journeys over lines that we may not even notice. As we’ve come to huddle up in this place of grace, we are all one in Christ Jesus, gathering here to pray...
       God of all journeys, we've come from near and far to gather this Homecoming weekend and blessed by you, we wait for your word of hope and renewal. Be with us all and may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable, O God, our rock and our redeemer. Amen. 

Yes, there is a Chicago Street in Greenville, PA

Last weekend, it was a great blessing to travel with twelve Thiel College students to the Installation of the new Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton. If you don’t know much or anything about her, she is our neighbor just to the west of us in Cleveland. On August 14, at the ELCA Churchwide Assembly in Pittsburg, she was elected to be the first female presiding bishop in the history of Lutherans in the USA. 

Getting ready to head out to Chicago at Chicago and Alan Streets with Louie, Audra, Liz, Cheryl, Amanda, Ivey, Rachel, Bess, Stephanie, Sean, Saba, Robert and me

Many of the Thiel College students are here on this morning. Some of the students are Lutherans who are very active or some by their own confession are, “not so much” active. There were students of other Christian communions and our friend, international student from Pakistan and the disputed region of Kashmir, who was a joyful traveler as well. We visited our friends at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago, met friends at the installation and also traveled to Valparaiso University on the way home. Everywhere we went, we made friends. Some of our students had never been out of PA. So the fun tradition of our trip was to stop – yes, stop – at each state border, jump out and to take a photo by the new state sign welcoming us across the border (two of them are in the back serving as greeters and they are laughing).  No one stopped us. No one asked for our credentials, ID’s or documents as we made our way west, state-by-state-by-state-by-state-by-state. 

First year student, Robert, and international student, Saba 

Saba, Rachel, Sean, Bess, Cheryl and Robert

Saba, Robert and me

Bess, Sean, Rachel and Cheryl

The city of Chicago, Illinois' welcome sign is over the toll road

Uneventful border crossings aren't always possible. There was no way to get out for a photo-op coming into Chicago. As you can see (or may know) the sign is across the toll road. It would be dangerous to get out here and plus it was raining. Happy border crossings aren't always the case across the world on the borders between peoples, governments and nations. Like between: 

Israel/Palestine 

India/Kashmir

North/South Korea

US/Mexico

Galilee/Samaria…for Jesus.

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee…

Jesus was traveling through a border region. The kind of place that wasn’t very safe. Not then, not now. Disputed border regions are thin places where tensions run high. Thin places where mistrust and suspicion are the rule of the thin, tight line between the one place and the other.

Somehow, perhaps because no one wanted them on “their side,” ten lepers (outcast, unclean and unwelcome in any community) found themselves in betwixt and between…a real no man’s land…for the untouchables, the incurable and the banished. There, they were stuck. Until Jesus passed through their hellish tent city.

Jesus had been traveling around and about Palestine and Israel (that’s how we’d know those places today). He went to places he wasn’t really supposed to go and met with people he wasn’t really supposed to meet – like lepers – and people he wasn’t supposed to touch – never touch.

No wonder they called out to the traveling healer-rabbi. News had spread of his healing power and compassion. Keeping their distance, as they knew they ought, the gravely, terminally ill lepers with flesh falling off their bodies, cried out. Jesus commands them to go, as was the custom in Jewish law when one had leprosy, one would go have it checked out by the priest. Maybe it was a sprint to the priest’s place. Maybe they thought it was a test to see who could get there the fastest. I don’t know – if Jesus told you to do something and you believed in his power to heal – I think I might take off running, like many of our 5K racers did yesterday morning. Maybe, just maybe the foreign dude (the hated Samaritan, for Jews and Samaritans did not get along), had second thoughts about showing up on the door step of the Jewish priests knowing that he’d be turned away yet again. So, he slows down – just a tad to notice that – yes! – he’s been healed! So, it wasn’t a race to get to the priest’s house after all. Everything’s back to normal, no skin is falling off his face or limbs – he’s just healed. And with that he turns on his heals to race back to Jesus.

To Jesus. 

In absolute humility and profound gratitude, the Samaritan leper guy falls to his face. Not just his face to the ground kneeling, but he lies prostate – flat, his entire body laid out belly-to-the-ground in gratitude before the healer-rabbi guy. And he was, as Luke reminds us, a Samaritan. A nobody. A ne’er-do-well sort of fellow. But this guy is filled with gratitude to the marrow of his bones and he wants to thank Jesus.

They other nine are long gone of to Chez Priest/Casa Priest, but the dude, the guy who people wrote off as a loser all the time – he gives thanks. Jesus takes note of this. “Where are the nine – didn’t they notice and turn around to give praise to God?” Humph – Jesus must have shrugged noting this guy who had done pretty much a belly flop in front of him. “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

But, wasn’t he already well? What about his behavior made him – more well? My hunch is that Jesus thought about healing in bigger terms than anyone around him then or anyone who hears this story now can comprehend. I think that healing has more to do with our entire beings than just our mere physical healing, that is so sought after and important. Sometimes that kind of healing doesn’t come…it’s true, we know this having lived our lives. But other kinds of healing come when we let go and commit entire beings to a life of gratitude to God and to God’s beloved community – the people of God with us on earth.

“…your faith has made you well…” Jesus told the once-leprous man. It may be a bit of a cliché, but if we have an attitude of gratitude, it can make all the difference in our world and to those around us. Our ability to turn back, turn around and give thanks to God at the feet of Jesus can make the entire difference in our lives. An attitude of gratitude, not one of privilege and haughty behavior will win the day, every time.

With the grace and leading of Jesus we are called to journey with him to the thin, border places our lives and our world to bring healing and hope where is only misery and despair. Jesus has gone before you and he is with you…so, gather up the discarded people, scoop up the throw-away children and cherish the moth-balled seniors. All are treasured and precious in God’s sight. Love and cherish them as God loves and cherishes you!

And above all, be thankful, truly and deeply thankful for all, here at homecoming and all places. 

Journey with Jesus and love the world in his name. Amen.

October 13, 2013: Prayers of the People

Bess: With grateful hearts we come before you, O God, to praise you and give thanks for your great compassion which covers the whole earth: Hear our prayers, O Holy One, as we life up your creation, and especially as we pray for those who are ill, those who feel unclean and the ones who are alone and outcast. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

Sean: Gracious God, we give thanks to you with our whole hearts: Raise up prophets within your Church to heal and renew your children, that those who live with stigma and prejudice may feel your mercy, and those who stay at a distance because of fear and rejection may be embraced and healed. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

Bess: Almighty One, fill our leaders with compassion and vision, that they may recognize the suffering of those beyond our borders, in border towns and places of despair.  Empower and inspire each one of us to reach out to them with empathy and care. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

Sean: Compassionate One, look upon the lepers of the world, upon those who suffer from HIV/AIDS and other devastating diseases throughout the world: Comfort them with your grace, and empower humanity to use our abundant resources to bring healing and love to our most vulnerable neighbors. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

 Bess: Cleanse our hearts, O God, that this community may be a haven of faithfulness and service, free from arrogance and division, reaching out with gratitude to reconcile and heal the earth. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

Sean: Wondrous God, strengthen those for whom we pray with your comforting Word. We turn back to thank you for all the abundant blessings and grace.
 Raise us up to new life with Jesus, we will also live with him and follow his ways of healing and peace. God of grace; Hear our prayer.

PJ: Fill our hearts, minds and imaginations with such expectancy and thanks, O God, that we may walk in deep gratitude for all around us and that we would practice this gratitude with glad and generous hearts. Keep us ever mindful of your healing presence that comes to us through Jesus Christ. Into your loving arms we commend all for whom we pray, fill them with your healing peace through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Facebook post following the worship service:

Well, it's just hard to know how to describe this morning's Thiel CollegeHomecoming worship service of remembrance at The Chapel at Thiel College. It went from wholly amazing with incredible music by the handbell choirs, choral tones and harmonies by the Thiel choirs woven with the voices of the Alumni Choir and worshippers alike, to holy beauty in word and song to holy pyro-fire, Batman!, as the 100+ candles in remembrance of the alumni who died last year since Homecoming melted down into the sand to become a melted pool of wax with 100 tiny, little flames floating that caused the glass rim to crack - no, crack is not right - snap, explode off the bowl sending the wax river with little flames over the edge, the bowl breaking, the college President and his wife in the front row and Chapel staff standing right there at the ready to feed the people with bread and wine turning around to feebly blow at the little flames, when a wonderful choir alumnus who is a chemistry teacher comes bounding forward down the aisle like a super hero with a fire extinguisher ready to douse the flaming wax river flow - when all the flames went out in the sand just as he bounded into action and I whispered to him, "I think it's out." He said, "Well, yes it is..." So, he went back and communion continued and the choir kept singing and the Chapel staff was calm in the face of danger and it was lovely, wholly amazing and holy. No one was hurt and as worshippers left the Chapel, they were so kind and grateful and said the loved the service in spite of the candle-wax lava flow and one elderly woman whose husband we had named because he died last year and was there with her daughter (also a Thiel alumna) said that he was an outspoken, feisty fellow and that he would have loved the service and would have loved the candle-explosion and she was convinced that he was there in spirit and must have had something to do with the careening, flaming wax flow. So, all was well as I led my first large Homecoming worship service at Thiel College. It was a blessing and I am wholly and holy blessed to be at this place of grace. Cody Danner took a photo of the remains of the candle-explosion - too bad we didn't get a pic before, because it was really quite pretty. 

The Chapel before Homecoming worship via Saba Pervez

The Candles of Remembrance table via Cody Danner

Candles of Remembrance table via Cheryl Marshall