May Day, May Day
- Last Updated: 27 April 2016
2016 Service Auction :: Sunday, May 1
This spring event, to be held immediately after church, promises to be full of fun and excitement! This community event supports the congregation's annual budget while offering an opportunity to share your gifts and enjoy the gifts of your fellow church members.
The auction catalog is now available - click here to check it out.
- Save the date for May 1! Be sure to put it on your calendar!
- Be ready to bid! Think ahead about items or services that you may be interested in- have a vacation coming up? Be ready to bid for house sitting or pet sitting! Interested in learning something new? Keep an eye out for lessons and class offerings!
We hope you'll join us to help make this year’s service auction a success!
Truth – It’s Tricky
- Last Updated: 31 March 2016
“I wouldn’t believe it if it hadn’t happened to me myself. I was on a trip to visit an aboriginal village, and had a badly sprained ankle – I was walking on crutches.” The storyteller was one of my classmates in my anthropology class. She was from Australia, I’m from the United States, and we were sitting in a classroom in Japan, both on a term abroad. She continued, “I was hobbling around with the rest of my group, slowly picking my way across uneven natural surfaces, when one of the tribe’s elders motioned me over. I found out later he was their healer. He touched my ankle, and looked up, asking for permission. I nodded, and he proceeded to gently unwrap the bandage. He looked at my ankle for a minute, studying it, and then gently and carefully began running his hand up down over my ankle, applying gentle pressure. As he did so, the pain in my ankle gradually started to ease up, and after three or four minutes, it went away completely. I couldn’t believe it, even as it was happening – I was able to walk back to our vehicle without crutches, and the pain never came back. I have no idea how he did what he did, and if someone else told me the story I wouldn’t believe them, but it happened to me – I know it to be true.”
Telling the Truth about Being the Truth
- Last Updated: 31 March 2016
I didn’t really know Hazel personally growing up, but I certainly knew of her. She and her husband, whose name escapes me now, were tenant farmers on a farm owned by my great-grandfather. Like far too many elderly women, Hazel fell and broke her hip. At that time, there just wasn’t much that could be done to repair the damage. Fortunately, she had a compassionate physician who at the least wanted her to be able to live out whatever life she had remaining as pain-free as she could be. While he couldn’t prevent her being unable to leave her bed for the rest of her life, at least she could be comfortable. And that, at that time, meant morphine, on a regular and an increasing basis. I still recall family discussions about the outcry over Hazel’s morphine “addiction.” The good townspeople in their small town were outraged, and outraged that my great-grandfather did nothing to stop it. I’m not sure what he could have done anyway. Running the struggling couple off the farm and cutting off their home and livelihood wouldn’t have helped, certainly. Nonetheless, people wanted to see them punished. They ranted about how awful the doctor was, and about how my great-grandfather “let it go on.” My great-grandparents realized that Hazel’s dependence on morphine for what quality of life she had was unavoidable, and not blame-worthy. They chose compassion over prejudice, kindness over castigation.
Torn & Broken
- Last Updated: 23 March 2016
“Stickers, stickers!” shouts the little girl with glee. “Help please! Help please!” She’s still a little too young at two to peel them off successfully herself. “Mommy, help please!” Her eyes shine with glee as the stickers come off the sheet, extending her hand eagerly, “Stickers, stickers! Thank you mommy! Stickers!”
The stickers, fresh off the sheet, young, naïve, hoping for a reasonably long life attached to a piece of a paper, or better yet a lunchbox or a three-ring binder or some similarly permanent home, are to be sadly disappointed. Their hopes are raised briefly as they catch glimpse of the calmly waiting sheet of white paper on the table, but, wait! What is this?! The paper should be getting closer, but instead it’s getting farther and farther away! Where are we going? … and then smack, smoosh, smooth, they’re on the front of a pair overalls. A sigh of relief goes out as they begin the adhesion process, walking through each step just as they had trained as young stickers, deliberately fastening each and every part of their carefully tended and guarded undersides to the fabric surface, but then – no! Just as the stick is beginning to take, rudely, unceremoniously, off they go.