A child in surgery

Not many groupings of words can bring more anxiety to a parent's heart than those. A child in surgery. But that's where we were yesterday as we waited for our son who was at Children's Memorial Hospital having a cataract removed from his right eye.

On a list of "serious" surgeries, I'd guess that this one might wouldn't qualify. In the days leading up to the surgery, I was confident in the doctor, didn't have much fear, knew it was fairly routine, but I couldn't help but get more nervous and anxious as we sat there waiting for the doctors and nurses to wheel our 6-year-old away. The surgeon talked to us beforehand and explained what would happen. We knew he'd have to have glasses. We knew that by taking out the cataract, she'd put in a new lens in his eye which would mean he'd lose the ability to see up close, thereby needing bifocals. And yet when she started talking about the slim possibility of things like a detached retina, I immediately thought, Oh, God, our son is going to be blind, isn't he? Ethan was taking it all in stride. A social worker showed him pictures of what he could expect. He listened to his own heart with a stethoscope. He watched PBS Kids and a bit of a Harry Potter movie, which just happened to be on one of the channels. As the anesthesiologist came and said it was time to go, we said a quick prayer together and they took him away.

We waited in the surgical waiting room (I could put up with the cell phones going off left and right, but there was a kid who was playing an unplugged video game for a good half-hour that drove me to the brink of bonkers-ness) and a little more than two hours later, the surgeon came in and told us every thing went fine and we could go see him in a few minutes. I'm not sure if there are more sobering places in this world than post-op rooms in children's hospitals. Ethan was sprawled out, still sleeping, but he woke up just a couple minutes after we arrived and that was the start of a couple hours of heartbreaking cries of "My eye is bothering me so much!" It's a helpless feeling to want to do anything--anything!--to ease your child's suffering, while knowing that time is about the only prescription. Time and a little Tylenol.

We did our best to soothe him, caress his hair, hold his hand, talk about all the people who were thinking of him and it did some good and we thought he was OK but then he'd cry some more, all while saying the same thing over and over. My eye is bothering me...so much! Eventually he was able to be distracted by the TV and apple juice, but little did we know that the biggest palliative would arrive later that afternoon.

His big sister.

It was amazing. I think what Anne and I did certainly helped but watching Caroline dote on him, say just the right things, and distract him from the discomfort was a marvel. He did pretty well after we got home, but every once in a while he'd start crying from the pain and Caroline would be there to do just the right thing. The picture above sums it all up. I realize I'm on the verge of overstating our children's goodness, but I don't mind bragging when our kids display remarkable courage and compassion. I really don't know when I was more proud of both of them.

Ethan goes back in today to have the surgeon take a look at his eye and he may not have to wear as elaborate of a patch from here on out (though he has a birthday party later today and I wouldn't put it past him or blame him to want to show off his badge of honor). There will be a multitude of drops we (mostly Anne) will have to put in his eye over the next several weeks and then in mid-August we do it all again on the left eye, but hopefully when the healing is complete, he'll be able to see amazing colors and clarity of shapes like never before. That will be a pretty remarkable gift.

Just One Night

Whenever I tell friends and family about the different pastoral experiences I have since coming to Urban Village, they often say, I hope you're writing this down!

I am. Sort of. Some of my experiences, though, aren't for public consumption because of privacy concerns with the people I meet with and listen to, which I, of course, will always honor. Though as a person who likes to observe and share these observations, that can be hard. Last week, though, was just a glimpse of the kinds of people I meet with and the stories I get to hear. We had a party/benefit at T's Restaurant & Bar in Andersonville (where we're launching a third site this fall) and had a nice crowd attend. Here's a quick list of the people I talked with--some with whom I had lengthy conversations and others were just quick hellos:

**There were the three guys who are part of a gay burlesque show (two dance, the other does tech) and perform at various venues across the Midwest to raise money for AIDS awareness and prevention

**There's the 40something woman who got divorced a couple years ago, recently came out as a lesbian, and is wondering how or if she should tell her mother

**There's the couple who just got married in January--she gets up at 3 a.m. every day to work at a Caribou Coffee while also finishing school and he's a financial advisor at Edward Jones

**There's the woman who used to throw the shot put and discus at a Big 10 school and is now a veritable Pied Piper for our gay community (though she's straight)

**There's the transgender man who just finished his master's in social service administration at the University of Chicago and is looking for a job

**There's the straight guy who's going to Cincinnati this weekend for a reunion with his friends

**There's the woman who just happened to be at the bar last night, but is looking for organizations to partner with AmeriCorps for hunger relief

And there were a few others. And that's just one night. I've stopped trying to figure out the "right" way to respond to all of these diverse stories. I've learned simply to listen, be present, and love.

Religion & politics follow-up

A few days ago, I posted about combining religion and politics and wondering about tax-exempt status. Here's a clarification from Rev. Phil Blackwell, senior pastor at the First United Methodist Church in Chicago (aka the Chicago Temple) and I'm thankful for his expertise:

"The distinction is between commenting on legislation and policies on the one hand, and endorsing political parties and candidates on the other. We (as clergy) can do the first. You simply can quote the Social Principles as a warrant for engaging issues. I make a distinction between public issues of general interest and political activities. The line becomes blurred when, for instance, we at the Temple host a forum at which someone in the political spectrum refuses to participate. I use the Social Principles and the NIC positions as guidelines.

"Since the gambling expansion legislation is bi-partisan, members of both parties supported or rejected it, anything we say is not political.

"The initiative on immigration in the NIC, discussions about public education, state budget issues related to caring for people who are disabled, and war are proper issues to discuss. Endorsing particular politicians or parties is not."

A couple of definitions--the Social Principles is a guideline for United Methodists on where we stand on particular issues and this is voted on by a worldwide body of elected clergy and laity every four years. I emphasize the word "guideline" because United Methodists aren't expected to the toe the line on these issues, but gives us (and the world) a sense of our beliefs. For what it's worth, I agree with nearly all of our Social Principles (the United Methodist stance on homosexuality is one big exception).

Second definition--the NIC stands for the Northern Illinois Conference, essentially the organized body of United Methodists (similar to a diocese or presbytery) in northern Illinois.

Father's Day quilt

A few months ago, I saw an ad for a company that made quilts out of old t-shirts. My dresser drawers have long been overflowing with t-shirts of races I've run in my life, so this seemed like a great idea. I (not-so) slyly mentioned it to my wife, gave her a pile of t-shirts that had particular memories for me and, to be honest, kind of forgot about it. Until yesterday.

I'm not sure how often it happens when a mother is more pleased than a father when it comes to Father's Day gifts, but this may be the case for us. I love the quilt, but I think Anne loves it even more. One of the cool things about is that every t-shirt on there has a specific memory. They include some of my favorite races (like the Drake Relays On-the-Roads 8K), a race I won (a 5K last summer in Chicago), some races from long ago (one shirt is from 1988), and momentous races (like the Boston Marathon, even though I crashed and burned at Mile 16). Anne can't get over how great of a job they did and I have to agree.

Now, if only it weren't 80 degrees outside...

The blessings of Bollywood

A reminder of why we live in the city...

I reflected a few posts ago about living in the city and my kids missing out on having a big backyard (or, in our case, any backyard at all). We saw the flip side last night. My wife and I went to a benefit for an Indian non-profit and my daughter performed with a Bollywood group that she's been dancing with the past few months. It's moments like these that remind me that though there are things that my kids will miss out on, there are also opportunities that will open their worldview, like Bollywood dancing and going up to Devon Avenue in Chicago and buying a sari.

As you can see from the photos (this is from an earlier performance at their school), there's a wide variety of girls in the group and Caroline has a great time with them. I like to think that she's being formed in really wonderful ways in doing things like this. I know I am just watching her.

Mixing religion and politics

I'm almost done with the book "Amazing Grace," which isn't exactly a beach read, but is interesting nonetheless--it takes a sociological snapshot of Americans and religion and I've learned quite a bit from it. One of the surveys that they site states that, not surprisingly, Americans really don't care for clergy espousing political views. I totally get that. It bugs me when certain clergy hand out "voter guides" or make it known that true Christians will follow Candidate X. (Unless, of course, they say things I agree with! :) )

And yet a couple times in the last few months, I've made what I thought were pretty benign political statements and have been called out on it because some people don't think they're so benign. In Urban Village's e-newsletter that I sent out yesterday, I encouraged people to consider writing Gov. Pat Quinn and tell him to veto SB744, which would drastically increase gambling in Illinois. United Methodists have historically been opposed to gambling because, among other things, it can have harmful effects on lives and essentially serves as a tax on the poor. (To see more specific reasons, check out this link.) I've asked people in previous churches to do so and haven't had any push-back on it so I made that request again. Two individuals, though, have responded, wondering if I'm overstepping my role as a pastor in doing so. One asked if I wasn't endangering UVC's tax-exempt status and it's a question I've started to investigate. I tend to think that clergy aren't supposed to endorse candidates as opposed to issues, but, again, I'm trying to find out.

Can/should clergy get involved politically? If so, should they ask their congregation to follow suit? I'd guess that most people (in line with the "American Grace" survey) would say no, they shouldn't. I don't do it a lot, but I draw my inspiration from the Old Testament prophets who would sometimes call out the rulers of Israel if the marginalized of society (e.g. the poor, widows) were being ignored. That's part of my own discernment. Are the marginalized being ignored at the expense of those who have much? How one defines "the marginalized", of course, is tricky. One person might say unborn children are marginalized. Another would say young men in jail. There is no easy answer, which is why I don't use my prophetic voice (which I don't claim is particularly strong) a lot. But I also don't think it should be mute. And I would say that about anyone.

Sunglasses

Somewhere in this world, there is a drawer and in this drawer, there are probably at least 15 pairs of sunglasses that I have lost over the years. Cheap glasses and slightly-more-than-cheap sunglasses. I know not to invest in an expensive pair anymore because I usually have them a year or so. Normally it doesn't bother me, but I really kind of liked the pair I lost a couple weeks ago so I've had to reflect more on the spiritual practice of indifference. I've been reading about Ignatius of Loyola, an early 16th-century priest and theologian who is the spiritual father of the Jesuits. Indifference, for Ignatius, doesn't mean you have no feelings for anything, but instead means "the freedom to approach each decision afresh. The ability to be detached from one's initial biases and to step back, the willingness to carefully balance the alternatives. An openness to the working of God in one's life." (from "The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything," a book I've been quoting liberally from lately). That's obviously easier said than done. It's difficult to go into a decision or situation and check our biases at the door. I can say to myself, if I find my sunglasses, wonderful and if I don't, that's still OK. But the small and inconsequential pang of that loss still lingers even when it's something as superficial as sunglasses. There are times when things will go well in my life and times when they won't. But because my meaning in life doesn't stem from sunglasses or anything else but rather because I'm deeply loved by God, it's a bit easier to let things go. But I'll still won't mind if those sunglasses show up.

Haven't we met before?

My wife and have a long-standing joke that she gets asked this question by strangers at least once a month. We're not exactly sure what it is, but she has a face/persona that invites these inquiries. I had the opportunity to make one of those inquiries yesterday. I was having coffee with Joel Balasingham at Cafe Too in Uptown and as soon as I walked in I saw a woman who looked unbelievably familiar. I couldn't stop sneaking glances her way, racking my brain and trying to figure it out. I thought maybe I went to journalism school to her, but I wasn't sure. Of course, what I should have done was go up to her, apologize for interrupting, and just asked, haven't we met before? What's the worst that could have happened? She might have laughed and rolled her eyes and I would have been embarrassed for a few seconds, but at least I would have known. But I convinced myself that I didn't know her so I didn't do anything. Trey will be preaching about Jesus talking to strangers this Sunday and I underestimate just how much courage it takes to go up to people you don't know or don't know well and say hello. It takes a lot of vulnerability and you risk being rejected or embarrassed. I confess I don't take those chances often enough. But when I do, amazing things can happen. Sometimes friendships begin. Other times, I find an issue we have in common and perhaps we can start working on something together. Of course, sometimes nothing happens that I'm aware of, but if I trust that the Holy Spirit is actively working in the world, perhaps something is taking place. Many of us can feel disconnected in this big city, but this week pray for the courage to take a risk, maybe make a bit of a fool of yourself, say hello to a stranger and you might build a friendship in the process.