Author: gracesmuggler

Today, I’d like to share Kim Andre Arnesen’s choral piece, “Even When He Is Silent.” The text comes from words that were discovered at Auschwitz, etched on a wall by a Jewish prisoner. This performance is by the S:t Jacobs Vokalensemble.

Text:

Image Description: A freshly baked loaf of sourdough bread, cut in half, on a beige color plate on a kitchen counter.

My friend L seems to have telepathic knowledge of my food cravings. He and his family are the ones who delivered homemade cookies and cream ice cream to my doorstep on Easter Sunday without any knowledge that I was specifically missing out on that exact treat. I was looking forward to it so much, but my grocery delivery was canceled that very day.

Yesterday morning, I said to myself, “I really wish I had some sourdough bread.” I thought about how delicious that sounded, and I imagined having some with butter or olive oil and spices. “I wonder how I can order some?” I wondered with curiosity.

Then in the afternoon, L sent me a message and said, “I’m baking two sourdough loaves today. Would you like one of them?”

How does he know?

You know, it’s pretty special to have unique skills for telepathic snack summoning. Move over ESP. I have TSS.

The real truth, of course, is it’s pretty special to have such wonderful friends — SWF — especially in a difficult time like this.

Thanks L and Fam.

–Renee Roederer

A while back, a friend of mine made this cute little sticker and sent it to me and some other colleagues. It’s a potato, and it says, “You can do the thing!”

So I offer it as encouragement in whatever direction you need.

You can do the thing!

You really can!

Image description: Two pieces of Little Caesar’s Crazybread are on a white plate with the word THANKFUL written in black, all-caps. There is some marinara sauce on the right bottom of the plate. 

Over the last few weeks during Coronavirus Time™ I’ve joined a congregation out of state over Zoom. This congregation has a tradition of sharing communion weekly. Due to their own rhythms (additionally affirmed by the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), they have been joining other congregations in participating in communion electronically. People are encouraged to bring to the moment whatever bread, wine, or juice they have in their houses.

I know there a multitude of views, theological convictions, and personal commitments behind the Eucharist, including how best to practice and honor this sacred tradition. That is all the more true during this time apart.

But I’ll just cut to the chase of this post. When I got to this moment on Sunday, I pulled out of the fridge the bread I had:

This is the first time I’ve ever experienced the spirit of communion over Little Caesar’s Crazy Bread.

I’ll be honest that this made me laugh when I pulled it out of the fridge. How could it not? But I’m not making light of the Eucharist or this moment either. I seem to recall that Jesus once fed a multitude with a tiny amount of meager food that seemed utterly inadequate to the moment.

And is this time we’re living not Crazybread?

The Crazybread of Christ, broken for you.
Thanks be to God.

—Renee Roederer

Image description: There is an orange-brown background, and toward the right side of the image, there is a circle of symbols of people made from paper. They are holding hands in the circle, and a light is shining in the middle of the circle.

I’ve been reflecting on this lately:

For a long time in my life, I believed I needed to be strong for community. I mean this in two ways: I had a calling to be a care giver in community, so I wanted to provide that strength. But also, for a lot of my life, I thought I had to be strong to weasel my way into community — that strength would give me entrance into community, and if I made myself useful, I might also be able to have my needs met there. I don’t mean that I believed I needed to be invulnerable in some way. But these were instincts I had, and in my growing up years, especially.

But in these last few years of my life, I really feel that I am strong from community. I feel very loved and cared for, and I am amazed at how much care comes my way, even now in physical isolation — in calls, texts, Zoom check-ins, and snail mail… you name it. I belong intrinsically to a community that is broad and deep, and that care finds me and sustains me every day. And I share from this too: My community is not some possession for me, over here, by myself, something that I get to experience, but others cannot have. I am constantly passing along the strength, wisdom, and love I find here.

I am strong from community. I get to share this.

But my deepest awareness these days is this: I am called to be a care receiver.

What a shift that is! There is never a day I won’t be a care giver. That’s who and how I am. But I have this calling all the more: I am called to be a care receiver.

—Renee Roederer

Image Description: A blue jay has its back turned, and there’s a great a great view of the blue jay’s tail.

Good morning, Blog Readers,

This week, I did a webinar with Practical Resources for Churches entitled, “Building Community Across Distance.”

A reminder: When it comes to building community across distance, you don’t have to do this as anyone other than the person you are. You have gifts and skills for building community across distance just by virtue of being you. Really and truly.

I thought I would share that webinar if it’s helpful:
Building Community Across Distance

–Renee Roederer

It’s okay to need help — from professionals, from each other.

I’ve been saying this a lot, but it may be a reminder we need: We are living a time of collective trauma. And some of us have also experienced previous, additional traumas, recent or long ago. There is no doubt that this time of pandemic is stirring up challenges for our minds, emotions, and bodies.

We can be gentle with ourselves.
We can seek help.

Here are two images from The Real Depression Project. I posted these recently on Facebook and Instagram, and folks shared that they found them to be helpful.

This one says,

Why People with Depression Become Numb:

-To protect themselves (from constant negative emotions)
-They become desensitized from their own suffering
-Drained from fighting a war in their head 24/7

-Depression makes you less engaged (and reactive) in the present moment
-Depression puts a forcefield between the person and pleasure

This is why you can’t just “snap out of it.”

In what seems like two days ago, I stood in the backyard and thought, “It will be time for the hosta plants soon.” They weren’t there yet.

It really does seem like that happened two days ago! But then again, coronavirus time is Jeremy Bearimy.  Maybe it was last weekend. But it certainly wasn’t a long time ago.

Then, yesterday evening, I looked out side, and what? There they are. They had sprung up, all together, and quickly.

It’s a reminder that sometimes… growth happens quickly. Yes, most of the time, it happens slowly with lots of twists and turns, but sometimes — maybe out of necessity? — it comes quickly. We can welcome it when it does.

—Renee Roederer

Image description: Two hands come cupped together to make the shape of a heart. Sunlight is shining through.

One of my best friends has a nightly ritual with both of her daughters. They are five and three, both completely precious. Every night, after reading to them, my friend says these final words before they go to sleep:

“Who loves you?”

Then both girls go through this litany of naming who loves them (sometimes with help) — parents, grandparents, teachers, and friends. Sometimes the stuffed animals get named too.

I think this is a very dear practice. It’s wonderful that these girls rehearse love right at the end of the day before they fall into sleep.

Perhaps we’ve never taken a moment to go through a list of people in our minds like this, but maybe that would actually be a good idea today. We never outgrow the need for this kind of awareness, a calling to mind of those who love us.

So I’ll ask us all the same question today:

Who loves you?

–Renee Roederer