Go, American People!

In this presidential election year, I am reminded to check my assumptions.

The population of the United States is approximately 313 million people. If I take in any report about the campaign, little time elapses between each utterance of the title "American People."

The American People expect, The American People demand, The American People deserve, The American People want. I am calling for a diet for "American People." Occasionally a generalization illuminates a point. I try to use them sparingly, because I hope that I respect the uniqueness of individuals. We are all made in the image of God, yet with many idiosyncrasies.

American People is not a precise title. Maybe we should assume that politicians and pundits mean the United States, but Canada is in North America. Mitt Romney is probably not speaking to the people of Montevideo (Uruguay, not Minnesota). Barack Obama is not likely looking for commentary from Ascuncion.

To go along with my cover bands Lenten Journey and The True Meaning of Christmas, my next band will be called The American People, each band a living satire, reminding me to check my assumptions when I speak, write or tweet.

Staring off into the clouds (of witnesses)

Today I've been working with theory and practice related to sociology of religion. I love this stuff. Almost can't get enough of it. Especially when something happens in the daily activity of ministry, and I visualize a constructing bridge cantilevering over the chasm between academia and ministry. Three hours of thinking, posting, praying, reading. It felt like 15 minutes. I was in a zone, in a place for me where I know the Holy Spirit resides. It doesn't get much better than that for me.

Today was also the day my oldest daughter had her first day of school. I remember watching The Cosby Show as a kid and the celebration Cliff and Claire Huxtable used to have on the first day of school. I was feeling that. I love my daughter, and I will miss her while she is at school in a matter of days. A little lost in the shuffle is my 4 year old, who doesn't start preschool until next week. She kept coming in to talk to me (as she is prone to do) while I was giddy with idea flow, and I was too dismissive of her conversation. I looked to the heavens for a little insight, and I remembered a teacher of mine who spoke to me from the cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1).

The cloud of witnesses are supposed to be the heroes of the faith. This was not my favorite teacher, one that often perturbed me. However, I remembered some wise words I received about how he was once taught that church life and pursuits always came first in ministry, and following that was the most significant regret in a life of ministry. The cloud of witnesses and the Holy Spirit directed me to get on my knees, look my daughter in the eye and say "Let's play a game. How about Candy Land?" I was moved to think about how she moved into the cloud of witnesses. That cloud allowed me to be thankful for the joy in the presence of God, joy in the flow of ideas, and joy in the simple connection of the moment. All in the midst of things that could have just as easily annoyed me. Thanks be to God.

Checking out a different field--baseball writing

A few days ago, I shared an exploration I took into baseball writing. I auditioned for some work in baseball writing, something only possible because so many professions have flattened their hierarchies. To be a baseball writer a decade ago, I probably would have had to hold a journalism degree or work my way in at the bottom, such as what I did back in the summer of 1989. My summer job then at The Olympian involved data entry, obituary writing, predicting the weather (sort of) and the occasional feature or news article.

Without a journalism degree or much experience, and equipped only with a love of writing and the Mariners, I took a chance at writing for a Seattle Mariners baseball blog. Some of the best sports writing and analysis I've seen comes from these blogs. I still appreciate the beat writers employed by various news outlets, but the bloggers have magnified the quality of baseball writing available to interested fans.

I did not get the "job" after my audition, but I received a good compliment about my writing. I learned a lot from this one week venture into another field. Some of my colleagues in ministry do work in other fields often. Others stay in the confines of the church for their entire careers and lose perspective and connection with what people who sit in worship encounter on a daily basis. My colleague, leader and teacher Ruben Duran says that "the church is not an end in itself, but the means by which God blesses the world." Too often pastors see the church as the end and fail to connect with those outside of the church world. Though my foray into writing on topics other than church was limited, it provided me a reminder of the insular nature of church life. Last time I checked, God loved the world, not only the church.

For all the perspective I gained, at the very least baseball writing for a weekend was fun. If you're not a baseball fan, or don't deal with advanced baseball metrics, the articles won't be of much interest. The one that might be of interest sits at the bottom of the post, since it touches on some theological themes.

A hypothetical Mariners roster move (thoughts on Matt Tuiasosopo)

Is something not quite right with King Felix?
___________________________________________

If you want to learn more about advanced baseball metrics, the library at Fan Graphs gives more information than you ever wanted to know. But it's a start.

Movement toward baseball truth takes more than nerds
By Joe BW Smith

Baseball is joining the topics of religion and politics in my family.

Why?

I am a relatively recent convert to advanced baseball metrics. Now that I concern myself with BABIP and ISO, my family can’t talk about the baseball things we used to talk about (at least I can’t with a straight face). The debates between my father and I have shifted. I fully realized this shift the other night when Dad showed concern about the variables in Felix attaining a win over the Red Sox toward his “record.” I found myself not caring at all about a pitcher win for the first time as a baseball fan. More than not caring, I almost forgot the win for Felix entirely. This gradual shift occurred over 2 years. A pitcher win hadn’t mattered for a long time (thanks, Keith Law), kind of like saying goodbye to a dying grandparent who lives in a nursing home; they are a mere shell of their former selves: they’re not living, they’re existing. Pitcher wins died to me a long time ago, and merely exist in a box score or pitching line. I ignored variables associated with a pitcher win Saturday night (RIP, pitcher wins, we’ll still have an award called Cy Young, remembering your existence). What really concerned me about Felix on Saturday was the amount of line drives the Red Sox lasered all over Safeco. I had to find out about Felix’ line drive rate (it’s the worst of his career). But hey, it looks like Felix will get more wins this year! RIP, indeed.

Since I’m losing the ability to talk about baseball with my father, I have to ask the question:

What is the point of gathering baseball statistics?

I ask this question because I believe the human tendency is do negative things with insider status. Advanced baseball metrics are becoming more mainstream all the time. We know this to be true on the national level with Greinke and Felix winning Cy Young awards while pitching for crappy teams. We know this to be true locally, because it’s not just the beat reporters who help form public discourse on baseball (Geoff Baker, Larry Stone, Ryan Divish (sniff), etc.), but now we can hear Dave Cameron and Jeff Sullivan on the radio, and their words are shared at the ballpark and at the water cooler—“Cust didn’t hit many dingers, but that OBP was just gaudy.” All of this makes me wonder if some of the innovator and early adapter stat gurus are going to cop an attitude like fans of an once edgy band that goes mainstream: “Dude, I only like U2’s EARLY stuff.” Something like, “oh, UZR was sooooooo 2009.”

The point of baseball statistics is to tell the truth about baseball performance. What works against that truth is, baseball is a game that involves relationships. We probably know from some family relationships we’ve observed (maybe even our own), that even though we may have contact or connection with someone, doesn’t mean that we’re interested in truth. The same truth avoidance applies to baseball as it does families. Dan Shaughnessy of the Boston Globe has written about sports and baseball spanning decades. He probably has countless relationships and work hours associated with a particular way of knowing baseball. Over a period of time he learns that the validity of some of his analysis is flawed. Of course he and others are going to be defensive, even downright hostile (his hostility toward advance metrics is well documented). Shaughnessy’s work and his relationships are affected by the changes in gathering statistics. Now the responses between advanced baseball statisticians and older generations of baseball analysts resemble political and theological discussions. You could probably tell stories about what discussions of politics and religion do to your family’s Thanksgiving. Baseball has drifted in that direction in my household. We still maybe able to discuss the Hot Stove League over Thanksgiving Turkey, but I’m not counting on it. There will always be barriers in finding truth—in baseball, politics and religion. It’s about control. Sometimes the carnage just sits there at Thanksgiving dinner (literally and figuratively).

The goal of gathering baseball statistics is truth about baseball performance. Yet, baseball is a game of relationships as well as athletic performance. The pursuit of baseball truth needs more ambassadorships, people who are well versed in the powerful link between relationships, truth and baseball. I think we see portions of that with Dave Cameron’s radio and social media appearances. Social media tools make the relational side of baseball truth gathering more possible. I am in awe of the response and interest in Cameron’s publicity of his leukemia and treatment (I’m sure he’s more in awe than me). In any learning environment, I have learned that relationships make the information more useful. Cameron’s public contact increases his trustworthiness. My exploration into advanced baseball metrics began reading Keith Law chat transcripts—where discussions of literature, language, cooking and FIP converged. Law answered my literature question before he ever answered my baseball questions.

Last Friday night at the Rainier's game, a good friend and I shared a Deschutes IPA. He attends far more live games each spring and summer than me. He has season tickets to his local semi-pro team, and his family gets to know the players over the season. He knows a lot about the game, but there are also many relationships woven in that knowledge. The topic of pitcher wins and run support came up in our conversation as we broke down the Fister trade and watched Luke French get pummeled. It was an opportunity to talk and figure out the truth of baseball performance. It’s one thing to have Jeff Sullivan tell me statistically why Luke French isn’t going to cut it; it’s another to be able to come to that conclusion among friends and family. It takes more than nerds to figure out the truth about baseball, but I’m glad that we have them, and that there are ambassadors among them.

Baseball, Church, and Writing

Just because I haven't posted writing on the blog recently does not mean I haven't been writing. I've been writing a lot lately. An opportunity arose to audition for one of my favorite baseball blogs, thinking I could make the leap from mostly church stuff to baseball. Waiting patiently for future vocational turns is not my strong suit. The time may come to share some of my baseball writing on this blog, but I'm not sure about the direction this writing is taking. Your average pastor will never become a baseball blog, but I am curious about what I have learned in my processes in writing about baseball and church.

The writing process in baseball is surprisingly similar to writing about church--preaching, congregational development, and biblical scholarship. Over the past decade, baseball has gradually developed new methods of research to understand truths about baseball. For about 100 years, baseball used very specific methods for understanding the game that did not change much. As baseball revenues and salaries have reached new heights and computer/electronic analysis moved into the game some questioned the assumptions and validity of older methods. Those who held control over the older methods of baseball knowledge struggled and still struggle (to the point of hatred and vitriol) with the new methods.

For some, the new methods of baseball analysis come with great ease, especially those who work well with statistical analysis. Information about baseball is not dependent on newspaper beat writers with large travel budgets or national commentators, or even sports networks like ESPN. Anyone with internet access and a desire to execute extensive research can make compelling arguments about many facets of the game, and I find their arguments quite persuasive. The validity of any measurement, whether qualitative or quantitative should be a priority. Are we actually evaluating what we say we're evaluating?

Sound familiar?

The church, biblical scholarship and preaching have changed because of access to information. Some people whose livelihoods or power status were based on older knowledge methods have challenged newer methods of research and analysis. Seminaries have had to change their methods some (though not all too quickly) and ordination tracks and sacramental access has shifted (though not too quickly). The common thread in developing new hierarchies and authority matrices is that control over information is crumbling (or has crumbled). It affects both the baseball world and the world of the church. Luther and his followers, colleagues and adversaries saw it with the dawn of the printing press. The authority structures are crumbling again. Feel free to deny it, or even decry it--I'm not sure it will do you any good.

What I have learned is that for all the doctrinal purists in both baseball and the church, they are still about relationships. Though it will always help to keep certain skill sets up to date and develop new knowledge bases, the world needs people who can navigate these changing times by managing their own anxiety and stay connected to people of different viewpoints. I haven't even touched on politics--and I think this is a primary issue in the current American political climate.

The fun part for me is that the opportunity to write about these topics and stay connected with you does not flow through a publication like The Christian Century, a local or national newspaper, or even a book that I write. I can connect with you--now. I am gladdened by our shared creative energy. I think that is God at work in the Spirit.

A story from an introverted parent

Today's post is rooted in thanks to colleague and fellow Mariner and Huskies fan Adam McHugh.

I appreciate his invitation to write as guest blogger on McHugh's website, Introverted Church. If you want to explore in depth regarding introverted spirituality, I commend McHugh's book to you.

Parenting as an introvert is not any more challenging than any other parenting point of reference, but the approach and reflections are different. I will be doing less parenting at home in the coming months, and Adam provided me an opportunity to reflect on the changing seasons of parenting and vocation in my household. I am thankful for the opportunity.

Escaping the Tyranny of the Urgent: Opportunity for a Grounded Life

What makes a fulfilled day for me (in no particular order)?

1. Exercise
2. Prayer
3. Reading
4. Writing
5. Connecting with loved ones
6. Organizing
7. An additional intentional, thoughtful creative act

Sometimes these acts are dovetailed together. For example, sometimes I pray while I exercise.  Sometimes I connect with loved ones through reading or writing. Outside of leading in congregational life (I am currently without a congregation), I have no excuses not to do each of these seven things each day. I don't have an excuse to not do these even when I'm working outside the home, but sometimes the tyranny of the urgent takes my focus off these things that ground me. This time in between congregations for me is a time to get grounded (in the positive sense).

What are your actions for a fulfilled day?

Mainline Recovery

I didn't learn the term Mainline Protestant until my seminary days. During seminary, I increased applied dexterity of its usage, as I observed professors and students analyzing, discussing and lamenting both perceived and documented denominational relationships, strengths, weaknesses, cultural influence, history, theologies and mission partnerships.

Calling the denominations of Mainline Protestantism "Mainline," is similar to identifying myself an athlete, even though I haven't been a competitive athlete since the 1990's. My ability level has changed ever since I needed reconstructive knee surgery in 2004. I was an athlete at one time, but I would be delusional to call myself an athlete now, even though I still participate in fitness. I still put together enough training to race or prepare my body for a physical test of some sort, but I am no athlete. The fact that I am no longer an athlete does not deny my humanity. I still need to practice faithful stewardship of the body God gave me--I have other endeavors in which to serve God that require energy, thought, discernment, articulation, concentration, and occasionally a need to run. My body still needs to be at its best. But I am not an athlete.

The nomenclature of "Mainline" remains stuck in both academic and ecclesiological parlance. This usage is also delusional much like any self-identification as an athlete. Just because the denominations of the Mainline have been in decline for the better half of a century does not take away that these denominations are still part of the body of Christ. They still have an opportunity for faithful service in the name of Christ. Like a professional athlete, it's challenging to give up the broad social influence it once had. Professional athletes retire over and over again, hoping to regain a sliver of influence they once had, because it feels good (ask Brett Favre and Michael Jordan). Mainline Protestant denominations still approach their contexts recognizing their denominations have been in decline for decades, but energy is focused on who or what is to blame. A sense of entitlement of broad social influence rings in writing and speeches of Mainline Protestant denominational leaders--this entitlement showed in worship wars and the living on the back end of the church growth movement, as well as today's battles over human sexuality. Denominations of Mainline Protestant traditions continue trying to catch lightning in a bottle, hoping to grow the church. We love to stack our delusions on top of each other.

I do think my Mainline Protestant colleagues are turning a corner. Maybe we're progressing through the stages of grief and embracing a spirit of faithfulness. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I never understood the culture of broad social influence of Mainline Protestantism. I saw remnants of this during my years in the Midwest, but like any individual or group in recovery, there's a desire to name the hurts of the past. I still think "Mainline" is delusional. I've tried to create my own terminology to identify the past. I tried "20th Century Brand Protestantism," which receives the occasional courtesy laugh, but doesn't enter into conversations. Mainline Protestants are in recovery, and in the midst of discovering how God desires us to participate in the body of Christ and follow through in faith, we'll occasionally need to talk about what was. As long as we recovering Mainline Protestants aren't delusional about our applications and place in society, we can call our collective traditions what we want, and I'll stop pulling out my hair. I can't afford to do that, anyway.

Why I joined Facebook (finally)

I was never going to join Facebook because my friends said I should. I find it challenging enough to strengthen my primary relationships. I don't need Facebook telling me every time I log on about connections I need to be making. This introvert is overwhelmed by those thoughts.

I think an introvert, non-Digital Native makes reflective choices about how they are going to be present in public through social media, and I took a long time reflecting on what it meant for me to participate on Facebook.

What drove me to make the move? I think it's been over two years since I began receiving invitations. I don't expect my joining Facebook is a big deal to anyone else, but it had to make sense to me.

1. As a pastor, I am a communicator. That is my job. Jesus went to the people, and I am attempting to follow that example. Communication is also part of what makes me who I am. As a steward and student of communication, I can make choices about how I communicate (how frequently, the kinds of things I choose to post, etc.). However, I was persuaded that I could no longer afford to make the choice not to communicate in some ways at all.

2. The Social Network film inspired the sociology and communication student in me.

Seth Godin gave me a Facebook caveat reminding me to be a good communication steward, which my brother stated much more succinctly, "Facebook is a time suck." I don't need to contribute to the noise in the world, but make my communication count. Godin doesn't spend time on Twitter or Facebook. He puts out the only blog in which I read every entry.

I'll still enjoy seeing my friends on Facebook. It was fun to shock some of them by joining.

Unplanned sabbaticals

In interim ministry, I often look at the calendar in anticipation of the next pastor's arrival. I usually exhale, much like the congregation. Sometimes my exhale lasts a few months after I say my thank yous and good byes to my partners in ministry. This will be my last unplanned sabbatical.

I always have a few projects and goals. Envelop myself as a house husband for a few months. Clip more coupons, find where I can buy the cheapest fresh spinach, work toward a deeper sense of household feng shui. Write more. Exercise more. Read more Bible. Facilitate more peace for wife and daughters through order, sleep better, and purge the stuff that creeps into the house, multiplying like termites. Too much plastic, too much paper, too many unused tools. They all sounded good at first glance, but they all clog my life as my pores clogged as a teenager. Sabbatical is more than rest. Sabbatical works like astringent.

I have a project that continues to provoke my soul, and it feels like make or break time. I don't need money. I only need time. I haven't given up on the dream of another degree. The formal path does not work for my family and me. If I am truly passionate about religion in the Salish Sea region, the research and information gathering beckons. It matters not whether others find it interesting, because it is the story of my life to be learned and told. My sabbatical is one month away. Intentional rest, intentional work. Outside of visiting my brother in Edmonton, I will avoid driving, for that has been my part-time job during my current interim ministry. Commuting alone (or with my daughters) by car kills me.

During my longer tenure as a house husband, I embodied a few lessons taught to me by monks in the District of Columbia and my spiritual director in Sioux Falls.

1. Raising young children is similar to a monastic life.
2. Manual labor is a form of prayer.

Though networking will be on my sabbatical agenda (the next ministry awaits on the other side). I hope the wisdom of God and my prayers and the prayers of those who love me will shape my next season of life and ministry. God saw that the creation was good in sabbatical, and I am visualizing the most fulfilling unplanned sabbatical yet. I know it won't completely go in the rudimentary plans I formulate today, but I know the Holy Spirit will move in those days.

A renewed look at frequently viewed blog posts

One of my greatest hopes in writing is that I connect with readers, causing them to think, pray, give thanks and learn. I also hope that comments will help me do the same. I continue to marvel at what some people seek when they peruse their favorite search engine. This post is devoted to what curious people find topically interesting about my thoughts and writing.

Currently I am collecting my thoughts for another season of writing. My time at First Lutheran Community Church in Port Orchard is probably in its last months. I am hopefully moving away from interim ministry and finding a calling that will allow me some creative space while remaining close to congregational life.

Here are a few posts that continue to receive looks:

Does God Change? I think many people wonder about the nature of the God of the Hebrew and Christian Bible. I have found over the years that the way people answer this question says more about their attitude toward change than their attitude toward God. According to the biblical witness, the answer can be both yes and no, which maddens some and delights others. The emotional response doesn't matter, the complexity of the nature of God is a given. Human understandings of change are insufficient to be projected on God, but God's passion and love for people and pursuit of keeping promises should not be lost on frustration of God not performing to human expectation.

Ten Commandments Mnemonic Sometimes I have something to share with the world that is actually practical for ministry use. I can't take credit for it. Nate Hanson, a pastoral colleague in South Dakota, shared this memory application with me about 10 years ago. In my discussions about the 10 Commandments, I learned that most people in the congregations I serve don't elevate them to the 4th person in the Trinity, yet they treat them like wisdom literature; they want to learn more about their nuance and life application, yet they don't want to resort to fear-based memory work that dulls the wisdom.

"We are a warm and friendly church."  After serving 10 congregations and consulting with many others, I've only encountered one congregation who would not agree with this statement. I think congregations are finally starting to experience some dissonance of the false nature of the positive friendly statement. In most congregational cultures, people are friendly with each other, and therefore often project that personal feeling of friendliness and mistake it for hospitality. Congregations struggle with hospitality, and the dissonance has not peaked. Maybe a mass closing of congregations will make congregations take notice in Oldline Protestantism, because hospitality practices are slow to change if there is change at all. But the hits on this blog post at least have me curious about the perception of hospitality. I've been wondering if the time is right for a deeper discussion of whether it's appropriate to call a congregation a family. I tend to believe no in the view of my teacher Pat Keifert. I don't think the family image for congregation has done well for the church, and I'm not sure if it's faithful, either.

Book Review: "Tribal Church: Minstering to the Missing Generation" by Carol Howard Merritt

I know I am late to the party reviewing this book (I have an excuse); Carol Howard Merritt (a Presbyterian Church-USA pastor) is about to publish another book--soon. Maybe people who are checking out her new book will want to know more about the older book.

Many reviewers of Tribal Church stated there are good ideas in Carol's book for inter generational ministry, but I'm not so sure this is an idea book as a conversation for leaders (and anyone else interested) about their congregational culture. If you're looking for specific ideas to replicate, you might find something, but you might look to another resource. Tribal Church likely fits better for small to mid-sized (up to 250 in worship) "Mainline [or what I call 20th Century-Brand] Protestants." Carol happens to name the plight of missing Gen Xers and Millennials and what it means for the life of the Church, but Carol's content and style inspires any congregation to better use the assets it already has to reach people in the margins of the community. I believe this is the book's greatest gift. The book's final chapter magnificently states in affirmation "The mainline denominational church has everything it needs to minister to younger generations." This is a powerful statement, I find that most of the congregations I serve in one capacity or another focus on what they do not have, rather than what they have.

When reviewing a ministry book, I answer the question, "how would I use this book in my congregation?" I have served in interim ministry for 9 years, covering 9 congregations. I believe the congregational transition between pastors is a great time to use this book. Here is why I would have used it in most (but not all) of my interim congregations:

1. Most small to mid-sized congregations, for a variety of reasons, will be calling a younger clergy person in their future. Carol names and broadly discusses the numerous challenging variables for young clergy (it should be noted that most variables could apply to early career clergy, but particularly young clergy). Some congregations may not be aware of the challenges and the lack of awareness could be the source of previous pastor-congregation discord. Awareness and action to address certain issues named in the book could produce a healthier relationship with the next pastor.

2. Pastoral transitions provide a great opportunity to evaluate congregational ministries. Howard Merritt astutely raises points around many contentious situations in the target congregational group:

• "The _____________ (fund-raiser, cultural event) supper [for Scandinavian Lutherans, insert lutefisk]."
• Committee service
• Leadership development
• Declining participation in a small group that appealed to people decades ago
• Demographic and sociological realities
• Generational divides
• Clergy critique

3. The bigger picture of Tribal Church is the question that every congregation in transition must address: why do we (the congregation) do the things that we do? The bromide: "that's the way we've always done it" does not get a free pass in this book. I love asking this questions to my interim congregations, and this book provides multiple entry point.

I have a hard time not liking this book. Having recently exited the sub-group of "young clergy," I share a great deal of solidarity with Carol Howard Merritt and the advocacy she offers for Gen X and Millennial generations, as well as the small to mid-sized mainline Protestant congregations. I've served a majority of my ordination working with congregations in that classification, and shared in her advocacy work. The book could easily be shared in a coffee house or a church basement over a series covered dish/potluck/hotdish supper (depending on your area of the country), or in a church board room. You don't have to agree with every issue Carol Howard Merritt raises, but she will introduce you to an important evaluation of your congregational culture and practices worthy of a personal and graceful discussion, especially if you notice that Gen X and Millennial generations are missing from your congregational life.

My Tenuous Time in the Sun

This week I am attending a writing workshop in Collegeville, Minnesota, home of St. John's University. SJU is host to the Collegeville Institute, an center devoted to ecumenical relationships and cultural pursuits. The Collegeville Institute offers hospitality, space and resources to writers, from those with little experience to great writers on spiritual subjects like Kathleen Norris and Parker Palmer. Here you can learn more about the work of the Collegeville Institute.

I applied for this workshop, funded by the Lilly Endowment to improve my writing. Blogging has reaquainted with me with my love for writing. Now that I am in the habit, investing time and money into my writing is more worthwhile. I want to improve my work. I've been blessed to have a few articles published over the years. Writing is growing as an opportunity for ministry, especially with blogs and other easier avenues to publish writing and connect a message with people. Below is a piece I wrote to address an assignment to work with metaphor. It's not my typical writing, but I'm glad to be stretched in the craft. Your comments are appreciated.

I laugh at weather forecasters, not because of their tenuous relationship with preciseness, but because of their blatant persecution of cloudiness. The only way clouds are depicted positively is when children lie on their backs and see animal shapes in clouds; when farmers pray on their knees and ask for moisture on crops; when mayors hope in their hearts for a break in the heat wave to stave off death.


Clouds are my companion: sometimes they sit with me, sometimes they move with me, sometimes they share moods with me. Clouds are my frame: they provide a landscape for sunshine, an inkling for stormtracks, a shield for brilliance. Clouds are my comfort, surrounding me, covering me, resting me. If the clouds go away for a time, I gravitate toward my basement to find my center—a dark place, a cool place, a shielded place. It is in that darker place where the light is limited that I can ponder the wonders of the cosmos, find my place in the universe and eventually meet my path back to see the radiance of the sun, if but only for a few moments, yet never fully.

I see value in the sun, I appreciate the sun, I love the sun, but I cannot stand in the full glory of the sun; too much sun hurts my eyes, hurts my head, points to death. In the attic of my memory my mother once walked on the path to death with melanoma. She lived. I am thankful, yet careful. I look toward the sun with wonder; I do not look toward the sun with contempt.

When considering my return to Minnesota, fearful of the brilliant sun that bordered on oppression that I once knew, I wondered as much about the weather as I did the writing. Will the clouds elude me? Will the rain nourish me? Will the sun insult me? I found peace and retreat looking at the lakeshore this morning, thankful for the gift that the full brilliance of the sun was accompanied with the grace and companionship of the clouds.