Mitch And The Angel
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Mitch and the Angel" by Sandra Herrmann
"Good Can Come From Suffering" by John E. Sumwalt
"Grandma's Soup" by Sandra Herrmann
"Wisdom's Quilt" by Fanny Lee Seville
What's Up This Week
For many of us, our families are among the most important thing in our lives. They certainly are the source of some of our greatest joys and deepest pains -- as this week's edition of StoryShare clearly illustrates. In our featured story, Sandra Herrmann tells of a man's long-standing desire to see an angel... and the sad yet rewarding situation in which he finds fulfillment for his wish through his brother. John Sumwalt recounts some experiences from his pastoral "family" to remind us that we can find hope even in the midst of intense suffering. Sandra Herrmann thenoffers a heart-warming story of a typical family experience, in which old, traditional recipes evolve with a new generation's input. And Fanny Seville provides a novel way of visualizing this week's Proverbs text, as she tells Wisdom's story on the panels of an ancestry quilt.
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Mitch and the Angel
Sandra Herrmann
Psalm 8
All of his life, Mitch had had a secret. It was a wish, really. But he kept it secret because he was afraid of being embarrassed -- again. He'd told his best friend at camp one summer, who had promptly laughed so hard he had nearly fallen out of the canoe. If his best friend reacted that way, how could Mitch dare to tell anyone else that his fondest wish was to see an angel face to face?
Mitch had talked to his pastor. She had smiled, which was better than laughter, but she calmly informed him that no one sees angels anymore -- if they ever had. But she also taught him how to use a concordance, so he could learn what the Bible actually said on the subject.
He quickly became discouraged. The Old Testament people who encountered angels were very special people -- God's Chosen Leaders. And Mitch was an auto mechanic. But then he noticed that the angels had announced Jesus' birth to shepherds. And that was certainly no high-echelon job!
But then there was this other problem: some people, like Abraham or Jacob -- or Jesus' mother Mary -- had seen angels. They'd even had them in their homes, but to them, the angels seemed like just another person. It made him wonder how he would know if he was seeing an angel -- unless he saw one of those with four faces or all the eyes in their wings! But the people who met those angels had a habit of fainting or screaming in fear. It tempered his secret wish, that was for sure.
And then his brother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Mitch stopped in every day to help out, and they talked more than they ever had before. They talked about "Deep Things," as Eric phrased it: Life. Death. God. The meaning of life. Even angels. And Mitch told Eric about his wish to see an angel face to face. Eric didn't laugh, but what he said really made Mitch think: "Seems to me that every time somebody in the Bible sees an angel, it's delivering a message that's going to cost the person a whole lot."
Mitch talked about guardian angels. Eric countered with those who announce someone's death. Mitch said, "Yes, but they come to take you to heaven!"
Eric said, "Yeah, but I'd rather not get there just yet." It sounded like banter to others, but the conversation had just gotten personal -- and painful. Mitch dropped it.
But the next day, Eric wanted to talk about angels again. "Do you really think angels come to take you to heaven?" he asked.
Mitch wasn't certain. He knew what he had read, but there were all kinds of ideas from all kinds of people about the subject. And after the previous conversation they had had, Mitch wasn't certain he wanted to see an angel after all. He just shrugged, but inside he bargained with God: "I don't need to see an angel. And neither does my brother. I want Eric to get well again. I'll trade that angelic vision for him to stay here with us." But he had no more answer to that prayer than all the previous ones. He was beginning to have a hard time with God.
A week passed, and it was clear that Eric would not be getting well. The doctor said it was a matter of days, maybe a few weeks. The family began to take turns sitting with him -- two people at a time, in case one of them would fall asleep. The conversation turned to other deaths in the family.
"You know," his mother said, "when Grandpa was dying he was at home, and we were all taking turns sitting with him, just like we are now. He died fairly young, so he hadn't been through many deaths of family or friends. That morning, Grandma told Grandpa that when it was time for him to 'pass over,' angels would come to take him home. He got a really skeptical look on his face (he was too tired to talk anymore). But Grandma insisted that this was true. He just smiled a wry little smile and closed his eyes. But the next morning, Grandma said he looked up at the ceiling and said, 'Oh, the angels are so beautiful.' And that night he died. I hope that when the end comes, Eric will see angels coming for him." Mitch silently agreed.
A few days later, the phone call came. Eric was dead. Mitch found, sad as he was, that he was comforted by the fact that Eric's face was turned to an upper corner of the room, and that Eric had a wonderful smile on his face. Mitch felt that his secret wish had been granted.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. She is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady.
Good Can Come From Suffering
John E. Sumwalt
...we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.
Romans 5:3b-4
During my last year in seminary I served as a part-time visitation pastor in a small-town church. I was responsible for making pastoral visits and arranging lay visitation to about 150 elderly members. Some were in nursing homes, some were confined to their own homes, and some were recently retired and still very active in the community. It was quite a diverse group ranging in age from 60 to 97. As I made the rounds I observed that almost without exception they fit into two distinct categories -- those who were without hope and those who had hope in abundance.
Those who were without hope were easily recognized because they were bitter about the sufferings they had endured. They shared how they had been treated unfairly by the people in their lives. Rather than rejoicing in their sufferings as the apostle Paul advises, they wallowed in them. They didn't believe that life would ever be better for them in this world or the next. It didn't matter what anyone said or did for them, the outlook was always gloomy. I had the sense that if the Lord himself had appeared to them they would not have been moved. They had been beaten by hardship and they blamed others, or God in some cases, for their sufferings.
Those with hope, on the other hand, shared stories of hardships that were just as severe or tragic, but their attitudes were quite different. Like Paul they seemed to rejoice in their sufferings. One man who I visited regularly had been flat on his back in bed for 31 years because of crippling arthritis. He was 65, and he had been unable to get out of bed, walk, or care for himself in any way since the age of 34. He was only able to look out the window with a complicated arrangement of mirrors. If anyone had the right to be bitter and without hope, surely he did. But Joe was an inspiration, one of the brightest spots in my monthly rounds. He was always glad to see me and always managed to turn the conversation around to me. He ministered to the minister, despite my best efforts to stay in my role. Instead of complaining or seeking sympathy for himself, he expressed concern for others.
I remember too, these 30-some years later, one 97-year-old woman who had spent most of her life on a farm raising a family of six children. Along with the Great Depression, two world wars, and other trials shared by everyone in her generation, she had lost her first husband and her only daughter in the flu epidemic of 1918. She lost a son in World War II and his body was never returned. She outlived another son and her second husband. She survived an auto accident in which she was severely injured and which took the life of a dear friend. She relied on a walker to get around, was almost blind, and could barely hear. The last time I saw her she had just returned from a week in the hospital where she had been treated for a heart condition. Still, this woman was deeply thankful for her life, for her family and friends, for her little apartment and her church, and she was not afraid to die.
One day as I was leaving she squeezed my hand and said, "I feel safe with you, you are a man I can trust." It was the highest compliment I have ever received as a pastor, though I knew it said more about her than it did about me. She could feel safe with me because she felt safe in the world, because she trusted God in everything. Despite all of her sufferings, no, I should say because of all of her sufferings, she had endurance and character and hope.
John E. Sumwalt is the lead pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in suburban Milwaukee, and the author of ten books, including How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It to be released this summer by CSS Publishing. John and his wife, Jo Perry-Sumwalt, were the editors of StoryShare from 2004-2006.
Grandma's Soup
Sandra Herrmann
John 16:12-15
Madison loved her new apartment. She loved the dark woodwork, the hardwood floors, the big windows, and the brightly lit kitchen with the large pantry. She didn't need the pantry just yet, but she pictured the shelves someday full of jars of beans and barley, pasta and flour -- because Madison was an old-fashioned girl with a love of cooking and decorating.
Tonight she was inaugurating the apartment by inviting her parents to dinner. They didn't mind sitting on old chairs at a table in need of refinishing. Her dad always said, "It's not the dÈcor of a restaurant that counts, it's the taste of the food." That declaration had seen to it that the family had seen the insides of some "interesting" buildings in more than a few questionable neighborhoods while enjoying really great food.
Tonight, though, she was serving her dad's beloved navy bean soup. She had spent two days preparing it -- soaking the beans overnight, then cooking them with a ham bone and cloves. And what else? A phone call home was called for.
"Mom, do you put celery in your bean soup?"
"Yes, honey. And onions, too."
"Oh, of course. About how much onion?"
Well, you know how those conversations go. Several minutes later Madison was back in the kitchen. She kept sipping the broth. It just wasn't right. She wondered if her mother had done the same thing her Nana had done. "You keep back your own special touches, Madison. Never give out your complete recipe, especially if it's for a church dinner. If you want a reputation as a great cook, never tell them your secrets."
A bay leaf! Mom used bay leaves in so many of her soup recipes... that had to be it. She slipped in one bay leaf, then a second. That tasted about right.
Madison hummed as she set the table and put the finishing touches on supper. The soup was beginning to fill the apartment with wonderful smells. She could even smell it as she showered and slipped into clean clothes just as the doorbell rang.
Her parents complimented her on her newest touches on the apartment and sat down at last to her "culinary masterpiece," as her dad called it.
Madison took her first taste. It was great! Perfect! "I think I've outdone myself, even if I do say so," she told her parents, raising her glass. "I think it's as good as Nana's, don't you?"
"It's really excellent," her dad agreed, smiling. "Just like Nana's."
Madison and her dad turned expectantly to her mother, she didn't say anything. She just smiled. Madison looked to her dad, who looked back to his wife. Finally, Madison blurted out, "Well? What do you think of it?"
"It's delicious, honey. But it's not Nana's recipe."
"What!?" father and daughter said at once. They started protesting in unison, but they were answered with a firm shake of the head.
"Nope, it's not." And she started laughing. "But then, my bean soup isn't Nana's either!"
Madison said, "I knew it! You left out an ingredient, just the way Nana used to do! But I thought I'd figured it out."
"No, sweetie -- I've never put bay leaf in my bean soup. And neither did Nana. But then Nana never put celery in her bean soup either until I did -- and she decided that it tasted so much better that way, she started doing the same thing."
Now they were all laughing, shaking their heads over a true family tradition -- making the recipe one's own.
"I guess I was simply following in Mother's footsteps," Madison said, "fixing Nana's recipe."
"Oh, no," her mother said, shaking her head. "Nana confessed to me that her mother never put cloves in the bean soup -- just the leftover ham bone and the upper layer of the ham, which had had the cloves stuck into it as it was cooking. She didn't think that gave it enough flavor, so she slipped in a few extra cloves."
Later, as she was putting away the last of the dishes in the pantry, Madison reflected on this business of each generation adapting the old ways and old recipes to a new situation. As she turned out the lights and went to bed, she smiled at the sense of history she had gained that night.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin.
Wisdom's Quilt
Fanny Lee Seville
Proverbs 8:22-31
Since the beginning of recorded time, mankind has kept records of everyday happenings -- of trials and tribulations, of sorrows and joys, of failures and successes -- so that future generations could build upon the foundations of the past. Today, families keep memory alive through picture albums, DVD recordings, scrapbooking, or ancestry quilting.
An ancestry quilt, for example, has a unique, exquisite design, skillfully made to take those who see it on a magnificent journey into the past. Each blocked pattern shares vast depths of knowledge and embodies the history and values of a given family.
One such pattern might display a beautiful portrait of loving grandparents. Another design might depict a spectacular scene that calls to memory marvelous past experiences. Yet another pattern might consist of meaningful objects scattered throughout the design, each telling its own particular story. This family quilt is precious and priceless.
An ancestry quilt helps preserve the past for those yet to be born. Had the writer of Proverbs 8:22-31 designed an ancestry quilt to tell Wisdom's story, the blocked patterns would have been masterpieces!
Imagine with me the beauty and serenity of Wisdom's quilt. In the first blocked pattern, the word "Wisdom" is beautifully embroidered with golden threads. Various shades of red hearts and white doves eloquently border the inscription, representing God's constant love and mankind's constant longing for peace. Looking closely at the dotted "i," one captures two smiling faces, suggesting God's pleasure with creation.
In the beginning, before the world was created, Wisdom was with God.
In the second pattern, the world as we know it is elaborately depicted -- much like an astronaut's view from outer space. The world's beauty shines forth like a brilliant jewel, displaying God's wonderful works.
In the beginning, before the ocean was created, Wisdom was with God.
Pictured in the third pattern, the ocean glistens from the sun's rays. As far as the eye can see, the majestic beauty of variegated blues gives one a calming sense of God's presence as the waves gently roll to sandy beaches.
In the beginning, before the mountains and the hills were created, Wisdom was with God.
Snow-capped mountain peaks, stretching across the fourth pattern, reminds one of God's supreme power. Streams of water flow slowly down from the mountains above to the green valleys and hillsides below, giving the impression that although God is all-powerful, God is also gentle and compassionate.
In the beginning, before the earth, fields, and soil were created, Wisdom was with God.
Eloquently woven into the fifth pattern, gardens grow filled with scrumptious-looking fruits and vegetables, herbs and spices, and gorgeous white lilies. With their heads looking upward in a prayerful manner, the lilies appear to be thanking God for all creation. In the background, fountains water the gardens, giving each plant a life-sustaining drink.
In the beginning, before the sky and the horizon were created, Wisdom was with God.
In the early morning, warm breezes blow and the light of dawn begins to appear upon the horizon. The workmanship of a great artist is captured in the sixth pattern. The sky is crystal clear -- no clouds are visible. God's masterful paint brush is at work, creating many beautiful colors. Various hews of yellows and oranges and reds come together, forming the horizon. No one can tell where one color begins and the others end. All are blended into one stunning picture.
In the beginning, before the clouds were created and the boundaries of the seas set, Wisdom was with God.
In the seventh pattern, clouds form in the sky. Each formation over the ocean speaks its own language. One cloud forms the pose of a person at prayer. Another looks like a child at play. Along the horizon, other clouds lock together in one continuous line of harmony. Surrounded by clouds, the center of the ocean opens, forming a majestic fountain. As its waters flow gently down toward the earth below, a sea is formed.
In the beginning, before the earth's foundations were laid, Wisdom was with God, always by God's side like a little child.
The great architect of the world created a faultless creation, a firm foundation, a land flowing with milk and honey. In the eighth pattern, a child walks beside a tall shadow. As they travel close together and continue their journey toward a magnificent sunset, it becomes apparent that the two are one.
Wisdom's ancestry quilt began with the word "Wisdom," and now it ends with the words "Joy" and "Happy." As in the first pattern, these words are also beautifully embroidered with golden threads. Surrounding the words, brightly colored butterflies spread wide their wings, suggesting that creation is born and stands at the dawn of a marvelous new life.
In the beginning, before the world began,
before the oceans sprang forth,
before the mountains or the hills were set in place,
before the earth or the fields or the soil were formed,
before the sky or the horizon were stretched across the ocean,
before the clouds or the boundaries of the seas were set,
before the earth's foundations were laid, Wisdom was with God,
always by God's side like a little child,
filled with joy and always happy with the world.
Wisdom is God's gift to all mankind, not only for a few but also for everyone, not only for the old but also for the young, not only for the rich but also for the poor, not only for the righteous but also for the sinners.
Wisdom calls to all humanity, reminding us that no matter who we are or where we are on life's journey, we need to be in constant relationship with God. We need to make wise, well-informed decisions. And we need to recognize right from wrong, good from evil. God's call to every one of us is to choose wisdom and live.
Reinhold Niebuhr's "Serenity Prayer" has enabled thousands of people in crisis to cope with their trying situations and has become for many a daily prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change --
Courage to change the things I can, and
Wisdom to know the difference.
Thanks be to God!
Fanny Lee Seville is a retired educator who devoted her entire career to teaching children with disabilities and "at risk" high school students. She is a lifelong member of the United Church of Christ, and has served in many capacities at the local, conference, and national levels. Fanny is married to Jack Seville, Conference Minister Emeritus of the UCC's Northern Plains Conference. She is the author of Sing Stories of Jesus, a children's music book of 25 biblical stories in song.
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StoryShare, June 3, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
"Mitch and the Angel" by Sandra Herrmann
"Good Can Come From Suffering" by John E. Sumwalt
"Grandma's Soup" by Sandra Herrmann
"Wisdom's Quilt" by Fanny Lee Seville
What's Up This Week
For many of us, our families are among the most important thing in our lives. They certainly are the source of some of our greatest joys and deepest pains -- as this week's edition of StoryShare clearly illustrates. In our featured story, Sandra Herrmann tells of a man's long-standing desire to see an angel... and the sad yet rewarding situation in which he finds fulfillment for his wish through his brother. John Sumwalt recounts some experiences from his pastoral "family" to remind us that we can find hope even in the midst of intense suffering. Sandra Herrmann thenoffers a heart-warming story of a typical family experience, in which old, traditional recipes evolve with a new generation's input. And Fanny Seville provides a novel way of visualizing this week's Proverbs text, as she tells Wisdom's story on the panels of an ancestry quilt.
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Mitch and the Angel
Sandra Herrmann
Psalm 8
All of his life, Mitch had had a secret. It was a wish, really. But he kept it secret because he was afraid of being embarrassed -- again. He'd told his best friend at camp one summer, who had promptly laughed so hard he had nearly fallen out of the canoe. If his best friend reacted that way, how could Mitch dare to tell anyone else that his fondest wish was to see an angel face to face?
Mitch had talked to his pastor. She had smiled, which was better than laughter, but she calmly informed him that no one sees angels anymore -- if they ever had. But she also taught him how to use a concordance, so he could learn what the Bible actually said on the subject.
He quickly became discouraged. The Old Testament people who encountered angels were very special people -- God's Chosen Leaders. And Mitch was an auto mechanic. But then he noticed that the angels had announced Jesus' birth to shepherds. And that was certainly no high-echelon job!
But then there was this other problem: some people, like Abraham or Jacob -- or Jesus' mother Mary -- had seen angels. They'd even had them in their homes, but to them, the angels seemed like just another person. It made him wonder how he would know if he was seeing an angel -- unless he saw one of those with four faces or all the eyes in their wings! But the people who met those angels had a habit of fainting or screaming in fear. It tempered his secret wish, that was for sure.
And then his brother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Mitch stopped in every day to help out, and they talked more than they ever had before. They talked about "Deep Things," as Eric phrased it: Life. Death. God. The meaning of life. Even angels. And Mitch told Eric about his wish to see an angel face to face. Eric didn't laugh, but what he said really made Mitch think: "Seems to me that every time somebody in the Bible sees an angel, it's delivering a message that's going to cost the person a whole lot."
Mitch talked about guardian angels. Eric countered with those who announce someone's death. Mitch said, "Yes, but they come to take you to heaven!"
Eric said, "Yeah, but I'd rather not get there just yet." It sounded like banter to others, but the conversation had just gotten personal -- and painful. Mitch dropped it.
But the next day, Eric wanted to talk about angels again. "Do you really think angels come to take you to heaven?" he asked.
Mitch wasn't certain. He knew what he had read, but there were all kinds of ideas from all kinds of people about the subject. And after the previous conversation they had had, Mitch wasn't certain he wanted to see an angel after all. He just shrugged, but inside he bargained with God: "I don't need to see an angel. And neither does my brother. I want Eric to get well again. I'll trade that angelic vision for him to stay here with us." But he had no more answer to that prayer than all the previous ones. He was beginning to have a hard time with God.
A week passed, and it was clear that Eric would not be getting well. The doctor said it was a matter of days, maybe a few weeks. The family began to take turns sitting with him -- two people at a time, in case one of them would fall asleep. The conversation turned to other deaths in the family.
"You know," his mother said, "when Grandpa was dying he was at home, and we were all taking turns sitting with him, just like we are now. He died fairly young, so he hadn't been through many deaths of family or friends. That morning, Grandma told Grandpa that when it was time for him to 'pass over,' angels would come to take him home. He got a really skeptical look on his face (he was too tired to talk anymore). But Grandma insisted that this was true. He just smiled a wry little smile and closed his eyes. But the next morning, Grandma said he looked up at the ceiling and said, 'Oh, the angels are so beautiful.' And that night he died. I hope that when the end comes, Eric will see angels coming for him." Mitch silently agreed.
A few days later, the phone call came. Eric was dead. Mitch found, sad as he was, that he was comforted by the fact that Eric's face was turned to an upper corner of the room, and that Eric had a wonderful smile on his face. Mitch felt that his secret wish had been granted.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. She is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady.
Good Can Come From Suffering
John E. Sumwalt
...we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.
Romans 5:3b-4
During my last year in seminary I served as a part-time visitation pastor in a small-town church. I was responsible for making pastoral visits and arranging lay visitation to about 150 elderly members. Some were in nursing homes, some were confined to their own homes, and some were recently retired and still very active in the community. It was quite a diverse group ranging in age from 60 to 97. As I made the rounds I observed that almost without exception they fit into two distinct categories -- those who were without hope and those who had hope in abundance.
Those who were without hope were easily recognized because they were bitter about the sufferings they had endured. They shared how they had been treated unfairly by the people in their lives. Rather than rejoicing in their sufferings as the apostle Paul advises, they wallowed in them. They didn't believe that life would ever be better for them in this world or the next. It didn't matter what anyone said or did for them, the outlook was always gloomy. I had the sense that if the Lord himself had appeared to them they would not have been moved. They had been beaten by hardship and they blamed others, or God in some cases, for their sufferings.
Those with hope, on the other hand, shared stories of hardships that were just as severe or tragic, but their attitudes were quite different. Like Paul they seemed to rejoice in their sufferings. One man who I visited regularly had been flat on his back in bed for 31 years because of crippling arthritis. He was 65, and he had been unable to get out of bed, walk, or care for himself in any way since the age of 34. He was only able to look out the window with a complicated arrangement of mirrors. If anyone had the right to be bitter and without hope, surely he did. But Joe was an inspiration, one of the brightest spots in my monthly rounds. He was always glad to see me and always managed to turn the conversation around to me. He ministered to the minister, despite my best efforts to stay in my role. Instead of complaining or seeking sympathy for himself, he expressed concern for others.
I remember too, these 30-some years later, one 97-year-old woman who had spent most of her life on a farm raising a family of six children. Along with the Great Depression, two world wars, and other trials shared by everyone in her generation, she had lost her first husband and her only daughter in the flu epidemic of 1918. She lost a son in World War II and his body was never returned. She outlived another son and her second husband. She survived an auto accident in which she was severely injured and which took the life of a dear friend. She relied on a walker to get around, was almost blind, and could barely hear. The last time I saw her she had just returned from a week in the hospital where she had been treated for a heart condition. Still, this woman was deeply thankful for her life, for her family and friends, for her little apartment and her church, and she was not afraid to die.
One day as I was leaving she squeezed my hand and said, "I feel safe with you, you are a man I can trust." It was the highest compliment I have ever received as a pastor, though I knew it said more about her than it did about me. She could feel safe with me because she felt safe in the world, because she trusted God in everything. Despite all of her sufferings, no, I should say because of all of her sufferings, she had endurance and character and hope.
John E. Sumwalt is the lead pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in suburban Milwaukee, and the author of ten books, including How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It to be released this summer by CSS Publishing. John and his wife, Jo Perry-Sumwalt, were the editors of StoryShare from 2004-2006.
Grandma's Soup
Sandra Herrmann
John 16:12-15
Madison loved her new apartment. She loved the dark woodwork, the hardwood floors, the big windows, and the brightly lit kitchen with the large pantry. She didn't need the pantry just yet, but she pictured the shelves someday full of jars of beans and barley, pasta and flour -- because Madison was an old-fashioned girl with a love of cooking and decorating.
Tonight she was inaugurating the apartment by inviting her parents to dinner. They didn't mind sitting on old chairs at a table in need of refinishing. Her dad always said, "It's not the dÈcor of a restaurant that counts, it's the taste of the food." That declaration had seen to it that the family had seen the insides of some "interesting" buildings in more than a few questionable neighborhoods while enjoying really great food.
Tonight, though, she was serving her dad's beloved navy bean soup. She had spent two days preparing it -- soaking the beans overnight, then cooking them with a ham bone and cloves. And what else? A phone call home was called for.
"Mom, do you put celery in your bean soup?"
"Yes, honey. And onions, too."
"Oh, of course. About how much onion?"
Well, you know how those conversations go. Several minutes later Madison was back in the kitchen. She kept sipping the broth. It just wasn't right. She wondered if her mother had done the same thing her Nana had done. "You keep back your own special touches, Madison. Never give out your complete recipe, especially if it's for a church dinner. If you want a reputation as a great cook, never tell them your secrets."
A bay leaf! Mom used bay leaves in so many of her soup recipes... that had to be it. She slipped in one bay leaf, then a second. That tasted about right.
Madison hummed as she set the table and put the finishing touches on supper. The soup was beginning to fill the apartment with wonderful smells. She could even smell it as she showered and slipped into clean clothes just as the doorbell rang.
Her parents complimented her on her newest touches on the apartment and sat down at last to her "culinary masterpiece," as her dad called it.
Madison took her first taste. It was great! Perfect! "I think I've outdone myself, even if I do say so," she told her parents, raising her glass. "I think it's as good as Nana's, don't you?"
"It's really excellent," her dad agreed, smiling. "Just like Nana's."
Madison and her dad turned expectantly to her mother, she didn't say anything. She just smiled. Madison looked to her dad, who looked back to his wife. Finally, Madison blurted out, "Well? What do you think of it?"
"It's delicious, honey. But it's not Nana's recipe."
"What!?" father and daughter said at once. They started protesting in unison, but they were answered with a firm shake of the head.
"Nope, it's not." And she started laughing. "But then, my bean soup isn't Nana's either!"
Madison said, "I knew it! You left out an ingredient, just the way Nana used to do! But I thought I'd figured it out."
"No, sweetie -- I've never put bay leaf in my bean soup. And neither did Nana. But then Nana never put celery in her bean soup either until I did -- and she decided that it tasted so much better that way, she started doing the same thing."
Now they were all laughing, shaking their heads over a true family tradition -- making the recipe one's own.
"I guess I was simply following in Mother's footsteps," Madison said, "fixing Nana's recipe."
"Oh, no," her mother said, shaking her head. "Nana confessed to me that her mother never put cloves in the bean soup -- just the leftover ham bone and the upper layer of the ham, which had had the cloves stuck into it as it was cooking. She didn't think that gave it enough flavor, so she slipped in a few extra cloves."
Later, as she was putting away the last of the dishes in the pantry, Madison reflected on this business of each generation adapting the old ways and old recipes to a new situation. As she turned out the lights and went to bed, she smiled at the sense of history she had gained that night.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin.
Wisdom's Quilt
Fanny Lee Seville
Proverbs 8:22-31
Since the beginning of recorded time, mankind has kept records of everyday happenings -- of trials and tribulations, of sorrows and joys, of failures and successes -- so that future generations could build upon the foundations of the past. Today, families keep memory alive through picture albums, DVD recordings, scrapbooking, or ancestry quilting.
An ancestry quilt, for example, has a unique, exquisite design, skillfully made to take those who see it on a magnificent journey into the past. Each blocked pattern shares vast depths of knowledge and embodies the history and values of a given family.
One such pattern might display a beautiful portrait of loving grandparents. Another design might depict a spectacular scene that calls to memory marvelous past experiences. Yet another pattern might consist of meaningful objects scattered throughout the design, each telling its own particular story. This family quilt is precious and priceless.
An ancestry quilt helps preserve the past for those yet to be born. Had the writer of Proverbs 8:22-31 designed an ancestry quilt to tell Wisdom's story, the blocked patterns would have been masterpieces!
Imagine with me the beauty and serenity of Wisdom's quilt. In the first blocked pattern, the word "Wisdom" is beautifully embroidered with golden threads. Various shades of red hearts and white doves eloquently border the inscription, representing God's constant love and mankind's constant longing for peace. Looking closely at the dotted "i," one captures two smiling faces, suggesting God's pleasure with creation.
In the beginning, before the world was created, Wisdom was with God.
In the second pattern, the world as we know it is elaborately depicted -- much like an astronaut's view from outer space. The world's beauty shines forth like a brilliant jewel, displaying God's wonderful works.
In the beginning, before the ocean was created, Wisdom was with God.
Pictured in the third pattern, the ocean glistens from the sun's rays. As far as the eye can see, the majestic beauty of variegated blues gives one a calming sense of God's presence as the waves gently roll to sandy beaches.
In the beginning, before the mountains and the hills were created, Wisdom was with God.
Snow-capped mountain peaks, stretching across the fourth pattern, reminds one of God's supreme power. Streams of water flow slowly down from the mountains above to the green valleys and hillsides below, giving the impression that although God is all-powerful, God is also gentle and compassionate.
In the beginning, before the earth, fields, and soil were created, Wisdom was with God.
Eloquently woven into the fifth pattern, gardens grow filled with scrumptious-looking fruits and vegetables, herbs and spices, and gorgeous white lilies. With their heads looking upward in a prayerful manner, the lilies appear to be thanking God for all creation. In the background, fountains water the gardens, giving each plant a life-sustaining drink.
In the beginning, before the sky and the horizon were created, Wisdom was with God.
In the early morning, warm breezes blow and the light of dawn begins to appear upon the horizon. The workmanship of a great artist is captured in the sixth pattern. The sky is crystal clear -- no clouds are visible. God's masterful paint brush is at work, creating many beautiful colors. Various hews of yellows and oranges and reds come together, forming the horizon. No one can tell where one color begins and the others end. All are blended into one stunning picture.
In the beginning, before the clouds were created and the boundaries of the seas set, Wisdom was with God.
In the seventh pattern, clouds form in the sky. Each formation over the ocean speaks its own language. One cloud forms the pose of a person at prayer. Another looks like a child at play. Along the horizon, other clouds lock together in one continuous line of harmony. Surrounded by clouds, the center of the ocean opens, forming a majestic fountain. As its waters flow gently down toward the earth below, a sea is formed.
In the beginning, before the earth's foundations were laid, Wisdom was with God, always by God's side like a little child.
The great architect of the world created a faultless creation, a firm foundation, a land flowing with milk and honey. In the eighth pattern, a child walks beside a tall shadow. As they travel close together and continue their journey toward a magnificent sunset, it becomes apparent that the two are one.
Wisdom's ancestry quilt began with the word "Wisdom," and now it ends with the words "Joy" and "Happy." As in the first pattern, these words are also beautifully embroidered with golden threads. Surrounding the words, brightly colored butterflies spread wide their wings, suggesting that creation is born and stands at the dawn of a marvelous new life.
In the beginning, before the world began,
before the oceans sprang forth,
before the mountains or the hills were set in place,
before the earth or the fields or the soil were formed,
before the sky or the horizon were stretched across the ocean,
before the clouds or the boundaries of the seas were set,
before the earth's foundations were laid, Wisdom was with God,
always by God's side like a little child,
filled with joy and always happy with the world.
Wisdom is God's gift to all mankind, not only for a few but also for everyone, not only for the old but also for the young, not only for the rich but also for the poor, not only for the righteous but also for the sinners.
Wisdom calls to all humanity, reminding us that no matter who we are or where we are on life's journey, we need to be in constant relationship with God. We need to make wise, well-informed decisions. And we need to recognize right from wrong, good from evil. God's call to every one of us is to choose wisdom and live.
Reinhold Niebuhr's "Serenity Prayer" has enabled thousands of people in crisis to cope with their trying situations and has become for many a daily prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change --
Courage to change the things I can, and
Wisdom to know the difference.
Thanks be to God!
Fanny Lee Seville is a retired educator who devoted her entire career to teaching children with disabilities and "at risk" high school students. She is a lifelong member of the United Church of Christ, and has served in many capacities at the local, conference, and national levels. Fanny is married to Jack Seville, Conference Minister Emeritus of the UCC's Northern Plains Conference. She is the author of Sing Stories of Jesus, a children's music book of 25 biblical stories in song.
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How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and email the story to us.
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StoryShare, June 3, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
