Teasing Me

I hated being teased when I was a child, and I grew up as the youngest in a family that loved to tease and laugh together. Much of it happened around the supper table, and I would conveniently get mad right as it was time to do the dishes. Finally one day my mom said to me that I can either be mad and pout all the time or I could learn to laugh along. Our teasing was a show of love and joy. At some point I found the humor and felt the love.

I feel a little teased these days. It’s the warm weather. Sixty degrees and sunny, in early February – spring is here! I’ve been walking to work and running outside. From my window I see scores of people circling Vander Veer Park all day long. The water from the snow has even dried from the streets! Maybe I’ll go biking later.

But we dare not put our winter coats away yet. Cold weather is bound to return before we really hit spring. The weather is teasing us, and it will make the cold days ahead even colder and more shocking. How cruel of Mother Nature to tease us like this!

Or we could look at it another way. We’re being given hope, hope that the long winter will end someday soon. Days of snow, thick ice, and sub-zero temperatures will not plague us forever. Spring will come, and life will bloom again.

Perhaps this is the type of hope we have in God. The fullness of God’s kingdom is not yet here, but it’s on the way. We get glimpses of it when we see acts of love and experience moments of peace. God “teases” us with joy and kindness and gentleness so that we may have hope for tomorrow, and for God’s coming reign. After all, teasing can be a good thing.

The Family Album

Snapshots of life; vignettes into the intricacies of human connectedness is an awesome honor to witness in parish ministry. The startled look of surprise in the eyes of the newly baptized after being splashed with words of new life; stoic exchanges between mother and son during their father’s German polka funeral recessional; the starry wonder of that one wandering toddler during the children’s message.

Just last Sunday, I captured another one in the communion line. I imagine I wasn’t supposed to see this one. The big sister quietly processed to where her little brother stood offering her the chalice of wine. She scrunched up her once cheerful face, rolled her eyes, and stuck out her tongue as her brother tossed out the words “the blood of Christ shed for you.”

The old familiar exchange brought a quick smile to my face. It made me my miss my own siblings, my younger brother and sister. I thought back to all the Sundays we spent in the church, silently, lovingly, poking and prodding each other through the long grueling church service. I am thankful to see the tradition living on. The wonder and connectedness of God’s people surround us.