Prepared To Endure Everything
Stories
Object:
A Story to Live By
Prepared to Endure Everything
May you be made strong with all strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.
Colossians 1:11-12
In his book The Lakota Way: Native American Wisdom on Ethics and Character, Joseph M. Marshall III tells about one who had learned to endure everything with patience:
"Several years ago I watched my uncle, then president of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe, diffuse a volatile moment with simple humility. A woman walked into his office and proceeded to ridicule and berate him, insulting him in every way she could think of because she or her family had been denied a service by one of the tribal service agencies. He didn't interrupt her; he waited until she had finished her tirade. Then, instead of taking umbrage because he, and the office he held, had been grievously insulted, he, with his head down, quietly and respectfully replied, 'Yes, that is why I have this job, so you can insult me when something goes wrong. Thank you for telling me your problem.' The woman could only walk away. She had expected her words to be met with anger because an arrogant person would have reacted in that manner. When there was no anger, no arrogant retort, she didn't know how to handle the humility."
(Joseph M. Marshall III, The Lakota Way: Native American Wisdom on Ethics and Character, Penguin Books, pp. 12-13)
Shining Moments
The Silver Wolf
by Susan D. Jamison
He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
Colossians 1:13-14
It was June 16, 1998. I was in a therapy session, using visualization to work through issues from my recent divorce. I felt as if I would never be free from my ex-husband's anger and the verbal attacks that occurred each time we talked. My emotional buttons were continually being pushed and I didn't like my own reactions.
In addition to therapy, I do Shamanic Journeying, which is historically a Native/Aboriginal spiritual practice. The classic text explaining it is The Way of the Shaman by Michael Harner. Early on in the practice of Shamanic Journeying, one receives a power animal that acts as a guide and teacher. Mine is a silver wolf, and I believe that Silver Wolf (as I affectionately call him) came to be my power animal because the figure of a silver wolf represents God in Martin Bell's writings, which I have read and used in preaching.
During my therapy session, I was visualizing standing and facing my ex-husband and imagining what was still binding us together. My therapist told me to take all the time I needed to cut loose whatever it was that bound us together. The image I had was of layers and layers of barbed wire that encircled us from shoulders to ankles. When I struggled to break free I couldn't because my hands were not free and each movement made the wire cut into my skin. So I mentally asked for help. In my visualization, Silver Wolf came and began chewing through the barbed wire, layer by layer, beginning at my shoulders and working down toward my feet. When my arms were free I was able to take wire cutters and remove the rest of the wire myself. Once I began to participate in the process of freeing myself, Silver Wolf stood aside and allowed me to finish, which was very empowering. After I was free I turned to thank him and saw that he was bleeding from the cuts he received in the process of helping to set me free. I felt badly that he had been injured, but I somehow knew that he had done it voluntarily, out of love for me. He wanted me to be free from this bondage. Then I realized that this was the meaning of Christ being wounded for my sake, that Jesus willingly chose to suffer pain so that I might be set free and made whole. As I thanked him, Silver Wolf began to lick my wounds to help them heal. Such a tender and gentle love was overwhelming. I sobbed for a long time as it washed over me. Finally I was able to tell my therapist what I had experienced.
I continue to do Shamanic Journeying as part of my spiritual practice, and ever since that day, on those occasions when Silver Wolf appears, he has scars on his mouth from where he was cut by the barbed wire that he chewed for me. It is a constant reminder of the tremendous love God has for me. This does not fit any "orthodox" teaching about the meaning of the crucifixion, but it has helped me understand that particular part of Jesus' story, a part I have always struggled with because I never could accept the orthodox interpretations. My understanding of the crucifixion does not focus on Jesus saving me from my sin so that I might reach heaven after death, but focuses on God setting me free from all that binds me so that I might have a life full of abundance here and now.
I am happy to report that my relationship with my former husband is no longer hostile. We share custody of our children, he has remarried, and I am grateful every day for the opportunities I have to reflect that love to others.
Susan D. Jamison is an ordained elder in the Central Pennsylvania conference of the United Methodist Church. In addition to serving in parish ministry, she has worked as a counselor with survivors of sexual abuse and domestic violence, and as a parent educator.
Good Stories
Neighbor
by John Sumwalt
"Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" He said, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."
Luke 10:36-37
An old woman was passing through the park one day on her way home from the store when she was attacked by a neighborhood gang who beat, raped, and robbed her, then departed, leaving her half-dead. She was taken to a hospital and treated, and she lay unconscious in a coma for several days. A pastor came to see her each day; he stood by her bed, folded his hands, and prayed for her release. The nurses came in regularly to bathe her and attend to her IV tubes.
One day the old woman's heart stopped. Nurses and doctors came running from every direction. They thrust large tubes into her lungs and neck; one of the doctors pounded on her chest, cracking some of her ribs, then she was shocked three times with an electrical charge that lifted her body completely off the bed. Her heart began to beat again. They hooked up a ventilator to assist her breathing, the IVs were reattached to her arms, and then she was left alone again in the care of a heart-monitoring machine.
Later that evening an Islamic Arab man, a secret member of an al-Qaida terrorist cell who was recovering from an operation across the hall and who had witnessed all of this, came into her room and looked on her with compassion. He wiped her face with a damp cloth and tenderly massaged her forehead and neck with his fingers. Then he sat down beside the bed, took hold of one of her hands, prayed with her, talked to her, and stayed with her throughout the night until they came and took him away.
Scrap Pile
Called to Be Prodigal
by Chris Schrey
God has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment: "How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked? Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked."
Psalm 82:1-4
There was a church in a small farming community that was the center of town life. Nearly everyone in town belonged to this church -- partly because if you wanted to belong to a different church you had to go to the next town, and partly because nearly everyone in town had grown up in this church. The church had been established over a hundred years earlier by the farmers who worked the land around the town. And their families had grown up over the years and continued to attend the church they had been baptized in and gone to Sunday school in. And they were married there and had their own children baptized there.
As I said -- this church was the center of town life. Everyone worked the annual bazaar in November. Some even worked nearly year-round creating the things that would be sold. And if you were not handy with crafts, perhaps you helped with meals or handled the cash or just plain helped clean up. Everyone worked the annual bazaar. And this bazaar was known throughout the county, so plenty of people came to buy the things that had been handmade.
But the bazaar wasn't the only church event attended by people from miles around; there was the pancake breakfast held in March. The village president and owner of the hardware store could be seen flipping pancakes alongside the farmers. There was also the pig roast held on Labor Day weekend, and the banker and the principal of the local grammar school were in charge of roasting the pig. All of the ladies made salads, and this event too was attended by people from miles around. The people of the church really enjoyed working together on these big events.
But the members of this congregation didn't only produce the big events. They helped families welcome new babies by bringing meals and baby blankets and other necessities. And when someone died, there was always the funeral lunch held at the church. And the visitation committee went to see people when they got home from the hospital. And when a farmer was going through hard times, often food and other necessities would be dropped off at the back door anonymously, so they didn't need to feel ashamed.
This was a church that took care of its people in lots of different ways.
But there was a problem in town. There was a section of town with older homes that were in bad shape. Maybe the shutters were hanging off the side of the house, or the porch rail was broken in spots, or the chimney looked as if it was ready to fall down, or some of the shingles had blown off the roof. Yards were just patches of dirt with broken bicycles laying in them. Trucks parked next to the houses looked unreliable and sometimes held together with baling wire.
The people who lived in these houses looked in about as bad shape as the houses themselves. The kids went to school in clothes that were patched and worn, sometimes even torn. And in the warmer weather, it was rare that the kids ever had any shoes on. Once in a while the townspeople would encounter one of the women in the grocery store, often with their squalling babies. And the townspeople -- if they were feeling particularly generous that day -- might half-smile and nod in the woman's direction. She would acknowledge the smile and nod with a furtive look in the other direction. In her cart she would often have only a few items, sometimes a chicken, which she would carefully pack in her bag and walk the distance home -- at least two miles.
The men worked the farms around the town for minimal wages and so were gone long hours during planting and harvesting, with little to do but sit around and drink the rest of the year. It was known throughout the town that there were occasional fights among these farmhands, but as long as it didn't involve the rest of the town everybody ignored it.
Church people would often talk about these farmhands and their families, and usually the conversation began with "Did you hear what happened?" and ended with a "Tsk, tsk -- shouldn't somebody do something about those people?" Once in a while one of the church people might try to take the side of the farmhand families and suggest that maybe they needed help. But the others would quickly squelch that idea by saying, "They really ought to clean themselves up and fix up their houses and stop having children. And those men should stop drinking! They're a disgrace to the town."
Myra was one of those church members who always helped at the bazaar and pig roast and pancake breakfast. She didn't have any particular talent suited to these events, but she was always willing to lend a hand in any way she could. She sang in the choir -- she had a passable alto voice -- and she served on the social ministry committee. As the town librarian, she would occasionally see the children of the farmhands come into the library to work on a school project. She would help them find what they needed, and in the process she came to know some of the children. She began to talk about them at choir, and the response was "Tsk, tsk." She began to talk about them at Ladies' Aid meetings, and the response was "Tsk, tsk -- they ought to help themselves."
She began to talk about them at the social ministry committee meetings. "These people are poor," Myra said. "They make only a minimal wage, barely enough to live on. They keep patching their clothes because it's all they can afford to do." And the response was "We could have a rummage sale so they could buy their clothes cheap." And Myra said, "Sometimes one chicken lasts the family a whole week." And the response was "We could maybe let the kids eat free at the pancake breakfast. Besides, they should be coming to church. Then they'd learn how to behave."
Myra kept telling her story, but it seemed nobody wanted to listen. One day Myra decided to take a walk in that section of town. She met some children on the street she had come to know at the library. They invited her home with them and she met their mother, Kate. Kate apologized for her own appearance, for the appearance of the children, and the appearance of the house. She said they struggled to make it on her husband's earnings, but it was difficult. Myra asked how she could help, but Kate said they would make it on their own. Myra asked if she could come to visit again, and Kate agreed.
Myra began to visit her every week. As she did, she came to know a number of the women in this part of town. Each week, she tried to find some gift she could bring that didn't seem like a handout. Sometimes it was an extra sack of potatoes, or some fabric she had been meaning to sew but never got around to, or a book she had finished reading -- anything that she thought might be helpful in their lives. Myra would go to the social ministry committee and ask for some things "for a needy family" without telling them just who it was for.
In her visits, Myra discovered many of the talents the women had -- sewing, knitting, crocheting, quilting. She began to provide materials and invite the women to create things that could be sold at the next bazaar. And when the time for the next bazaar rolled around and the women of the church were setting up, in walked Myra with Kate and all of her new friends behind her, with all the things they had created with Myra's help: their offering of their talents to the church that had shunned them. And the women held their heads high. And the women of the church stood in awe of these women, of their gifts, and of Myra.
Chris Schrey has been a Lutheran pastor for 13 years, and is in her second call at Christ Lutheran Church on the northwest side of Chicago. She serves the church half-time, and she is also the half-time director of the Northwest Side Housing Center, which provides counseling around home ownership. Chris helped to create this agency with the Northwest Neighborhood Federation to address the increasing number of foreclosures in the area. Chris has been married 34 years, has a grown daughter, a son-in-law, and three granddaughters. She and her husband raise Brittany Spaniels. You may e-mail her at cschrey@rcn.com.
**********************************************
New Book
The third book in the vision series, Shining Moments: Visions of the Holy in Ordinary Lives (edited by John Sumwalt), will be released this month by CSS Publishing Company. Among the 60 contributing authors of these Chicken Soup for the Soul-like vignettes are Ralph Milton, Sandra Herrmann, Pamela J. Tinnin, Richard H. Gentzler Jr., David Michael Smith, Jodie Felton, Nancy Nichols, William Lee Rand, Gail Ingle, and Rosmarie Trapp, whose family story was told in the classic movie The Sound of Music.
Other Books by John & Jo Sumwalt
Sharing Visions: Divine Revelations, Angels, and Holy Coincidences
Vision Stories: True Accounts of Visions, Angels, and Healing Miracles
Life Stories: A Study in Christian Decision Making
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle C
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle A
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle B
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit: 62 Stories for Cycle B
You can order any of our books on the CSS website (http://www.csspub.com); they are also available from www.amazon.com and at many Christian bookstores. Or simply e-mail your order to orders@csspub.com or phone 1-800-241-4056. (If you live outside the U.S., phone 419-227-1818.)
**************
Looking for just the right story for this Sunday's sermon or Sunday School class? There is a large selection of stories on the StoryShare website (http://www.csspub.com/story.lasso). Click on "samples" to see two of our weekly editions.
New subscribers receive a year of StoryShare plus full access to the StoryShare archives for just $19.95. Subscribing online is convenient using our secure server -- or you can all CSS toll-free at (800) 537-1030 Monday - Friday from 8:30 AM - 5:30 PM (Eastern Time) or send an e-mail to orders@csspub.com, and our customer service team will be happy to assist you.
We invite you to forward this offer to all of your friends who are looking for good stories.
**************
StoryShare, July 11, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 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., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
Prepared to Endure Everything
May you be made strong with all strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.
Colossians 1:11-12
In his book The Lakota Way: Native American Wisdom on Ethics and Character, Joseph M. Marshall III tells about one who had learned to endure everything with patience:
"Several years ago I watched my uncle, then president of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe, diffuse a volatile moment with simple humility. A woman walked into his office and proceeded to ridicule and berate him, insulting him in every way she could think of because she or her family had been denied a service by one of the tribal service agencies. He didn't interrupt her; he waited until she had finished her tirade. Then, instead of taking umbrage because he, and the office he held, had been grievously insulted, he, with his head down, quietly and respectfully replied, 'Yes, that is why I have this job, so you can insult me when something goes wrong. Thank you for telling me your problem.' The woman could only walk away. She had expected her words to be met with anger because an arrogant person would have reacted in that manner. When there was no anger, no arrogant retort, she didn't know how to handle the humility."
(Joseph M. Marshall III, The Lakota Way: Native American Wisdom on Ethics and Character, Penguin Books, pp. 12-13)
Shining Moments
The Silver Wolf
by Susan D. Jamison
He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
Colossians 1:13-14
It was June 16, 1998. I was in a therapy session, using visualization to work through issues from my recent divorce. I felt as if I would never be free from my ex-husband's anger and the verbal attacks that occurred each time we talked. My emotional buttons were continually being pushed and I didn't like my own reactions.
In addition to therapy, I do Shamanic Journeying, which is historically a Native/Aboriginal spiritual practice. The classic text explaining it is The Way of the Shaman by Michael Harner. Early on in the practice of Shamanic Journeying, one receives a power animal that acts as a guide and teacher. Mine is a silver wolf, and I believe that Silver Wolf (as I affectionately call him) came to be my power animal because the figure of a silver wolf represents God in Martin Bell's writings, which I have read and used in preaching.
During my therapy session, I was visualizing standing and facing my ex-husband and imagining what was still binding us together. My therapist told me to take all the time I needed to cut loose whatever it was that bound us together. The image I had was of layers and layers of barbed wire that encircled us from shoulders to ankles. When I struggled to break free I couldn't because my hands were not free and each movement made the wire cut into my skin. So I mentally asked for help. In my visualization, Silver Wolf came and began chewing through the barbed wire, layer by layer, beginning at my shoulders and working down toward my feet. When my arms were free I was able to take wire cutters and remove the rest of the wire myself. Once I began to participate in the process of freeing myself, Silver Wolf stood aside and allowed me to finish, which was very empowering. After I was free I turned to thank him and saw that he was bleeding from the cuts he received in the process of helping to set me free. I felt badly that he had been injured, but I somehow knew that he had done it voluntarily, out of love for me. He wanted me to be free from this bondage. Then I realized that this was the meaning of Christ being wounded for my sake, that Jesus willingly chose to suffer pain so that I might be set free and made whole. As I thanked him, Silver Wolf began to lick my wounds to help them heal. Such a tender and gentle love was overwhelming. I sobbed for a long time as it washed over me. Finally I was able to tell my therapist what I had experienced.
I continue to do Shamanic Journeying as part of my spiritual practice, and ever since that day, on those occasions when Silver Wolf appears, he has scars on his mouth from where he was cut by the barbed wire that he chewed for me. It is a constant reminder of the tremendous love God has for me. This does not fit any "orthodox" teaching about the meaning of the crucifixion, but it has helped me understand that particular part of Jesus' story, a part I have always struggled with because I never could accept the orthodox interpretations. My understanding of the crucifixion does not focus on Jesus saving me from my sin so that I might reach heaven after death, but focuses on God setting me free from all that binds me so that I might have a life full of abundance here and now.
I am happy to report that my relationship with my former husband is no longer hostile. We share custody of our children, he has remarried, and I am grateful every day for the opportunities I have to reflect that love to others.
Susan D. Jamison is an ordained elder in the Central Pennsylvania conference of the United Methodist Church. In addition to serving in parish ministry, she has worked as a counselor with survivors of sexual abuse and domestic violence, and as a parent educator.
Good Stories
Neighbor
by John Sumwalt
"Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" He said, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."
Luke 10:36-37
An old woman was passing through the park one day on her way home from the store when she was attacked by a neighborhood gang who beat, raped, and robbed her, then departed, leaving her half-dead. She was taken to a hospital and treated, and she lay unconscious in a coma for several days. A pastor came to see her each day; he stood by her bed, folded his hands, and prayed for her release. The nurses came in regularly to bathe her and attend to her IV tubes.
One day the old woman's heart stopped. Nurses and doctors came running from every direction. They thrust large tubes into her lungs and neck; one of the doctors pounded on her chest, cracking some of her ribs, then she was shocked three times with an electrical charge that lifted her body completely off the bed. Her heart began to beat again. They hooked up a ventilator to assist her breathing, the IVs were reattached to her arms, and then she was left alone again in the care of a heart-monitoring machine.
Later that evening an Islamic Arab man, a secret member of an al-Qaida terrorist cell who was recovering from an operation across the hall and who had witnessed all of this, came into her room and looked on her with compassion. He wiped her face with a damp cloth and tenderly massaged her forehead and neck with his fingers. Then he sat down beside the bed, took hold of one of her hands, prayed with her, talked to her, and stayed with her throughout the night until they came and took him away.
Scrap Pile
Called to Be Prodigal
by Chris Schrey
God has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment: "How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked? Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked."
Psalm 82:1-4
There was a church in a small farming community that was the center of town life. Nearly everyone in town belonged to this church -- partly because if you wanted to belong to a different church you had to go to the next town, and partly because nearly everyone in town had grown up in this church. The church had been established over a hundred years earlier by the farmers who worked the land around the town. And their families had grown up over the years and continued to attend the church they had been baptized in and gone to Sunday school in. And they were married there and had their own children baptized there.
As I said -- this church was the center of town life. Everyone worked the annual bazaar in November. Some even worked nearly year-round creating the things that would be sold. And if you were not handy with crafts, perhaps you helped with meals or handled the cash or just plain helped clean up. Everyone worked the annual bazaar. And this bazaar was known throughout the county, so plenty of people came to buy the things that had been handmade.
But the bazaar wasn't the only church event attended by people from miles around; there was the pancake breakfast held in March. The village president and owner of the hardware store could be seen flipping pancakes alongside the farmers. There was also the pig roast held on Labor Day weekend, and the banker and the principal of the local grammar school were in charge of roasting the pig. All of the ladies made salads, and this event too was attended by people from miles around. The people of the church really enjoyed working together on these big events.
But the members of this congregation didn't only produce the big events. They helped families welcome new babies by bringing meals and baby blankets and other necessities. And when someone died, there was always the funeral lunch held at the church. And the visitation committee went to see people when they got home from the hospital. And when a farmer was going through hard times, often food and other necessities would be dropped off at the back door anonymously, so they didn't need to feel ashamed.
This was a church that took care of its people in lots of different ways.
But there was a problem in town. There was a section of town with older homes that were in bad shape. Maybe the shutters were hanging off the side of the house, or the porch rail was broken in spots, or the chimney looked as if it was ready to fall down, or some of the shingles had blown off the roof. Yards were just patches of dirt with broken bicycles laying in them. Trucks parked next to the houses looked unreliable and sometimes held together with baling wire.
The people who lived in these houses looked in about as bad shape as the houses themselves. The kids went to school in clothes that were patched and worn, sometimes even torn. And in the warmer weather, it was rare that the kids ever had any shoes on. Once in a while the townspeople would encounter one of the women in the grocery store, often with their squalling babies. And the townspeople -- if they were feeling particularly generous that day -- might half-smile and nod in the woman's direction. She would acknowledge the smile and nod with a furtive look in the other direction. In her cart she would often have only a few items, sometimes a chicken, which she would carefully pack in her bag and walk the distance home -- at least two miles.
The men worked the farms around the town for minimal wages and so were gone long hours during planting and harvesting, with little to do but sit around and drink the rest of the year. It was known throughout the town that there were occasional fights among these farmhands, but as long as it didn't involve the rest of the town everybody ignored it.
Church people would often talk about these farmhands and their families, and usually the conversation began with "Did you hear what happened?" and ended with a "Tsk, tsk -- shouldn't somebody do something about those people?" Once in a while one of the church people might try to take the side of the farmhand families and suggest that maybe they needed help. But the others would quickly squelch that idea by saying, "They really ought to clean themselves up and fix up their houses and stop having children. And those men should stop drinking! They're a disgrace to the town."
Myra was one of those church members who always helped at the bazaar and pig roast and pancake breakfast. She didn't have any particular talent suited to these events, but she was always willing to lend a hand in any way she could. She sang in the choir -- she had a passable alto voice -- and she served on the social ministry committee. As the town librarian, she would occasionally see the children of the farmhands come into the library to work on a school project. She would help them find what they needed, and in the process she came to know some of the children. She began to talk about them at choir, and the response was "Tsk, tsk." She began to talk about them at Ladies' Aid meetings, and the response was "Tsk, tsk -- they ought to help themselves."
She began to talk about them at the social ministry committee meetings. "These people are poor," Myra said. "They make only a minimal wage, barely enough to live on. They keep patching their clothes because it's all they can afford to do." And the response was "We could have a rummage sale so they could buy their clothes cheap." And Myra said, "Sometimes one chicken lasts the family a whole week." And the response was "We could maybe let the kids eat free at the pancake breakfast. Besides, they should be coming to church. Then they'd learn how to behave."
Myra kept telling her story, but it seemed nobody wanted to listen. One day Myra decided to take a walk in that section of town. She met some children on the street she had come to know at the library. They invited her home with them and she met their mother, Kate. Kate apologized for her own appearance, for the appearance of the children, and the appearance of the house. She said they struggled to make it on her husband's earnings, but it was difficult. Myra asked how she could help, but Kate said they would make it on their own. Myra asked if she could come to visit again, and Kate agreed.
Myra began to visit her every week. As she did, she came to know a number of the women in this part of town. Each week, she tried to find some gift she could bring that didn't seem like a handout. Sometimes it was an extra sack of potatoes, or some fabric she had been meaning to sew but never got around to, or a book she had finished reading -- anything that she thought might be helpful in their lives. Myra would go to the social ministry committee and ask for some things "for a needy family" without telling them just who it was for.
In her visits, Myra discovered many of the talents the women had -- sewing, knitting, crocheting, quilting. She began to provide materials and invite the women to create things that could be sold at the next bazaar. And when the time for the next bazaar rolled around and the women of the church were setting up, in walked Myra with Kate and all of her new friends behind her, with all the things they had created with Myra's help: their offering of their talents to the church that had shunned them. And the women held their heads high. And the women of the church stood in awe of these women, of their gifts, and of Myra.
Chris Schrey has been a Lutheran pastor for 13 years, and is in her second call at Christ Lutheran Church on the northwest side of Chicago. She serves the church half-time, and she is also the half-time director of the Northwest Side Housing Center, which provides counseling around home ownership. Chris helped to create this agency with the Northwest Neighborhood Federation to address the increasing number of foreclosures in the area. Chris has been married 34 years, has a grown daughter, a son-in-law, and three granddaughters. She and her husband raise Brittany Spaniels. You may e-mail her at cschrey@rcn.com.
**********************************************
New Book
The third book in the vision series, Shining Moments: Visions of the Holy in Ordinary Lives (edited by John Sumwalt), will be released this month by CSS Publishing Company. Among the 60 contributing authors of these Chicken Soup for the Soul-like vignettes are Ralph Milton, Sandra Herrmann, Pamela J. Tinnin, Richard H. Gentzler Jr., David Michael Smith, Jodie Felton, Nancy Nichols, William Lee Rand, Gail Ingle, and Rosmarie Trapp, whose family story was told in the classic movie The Sound of Music.
Other Books by John & Jo Sumwalt
Sharing Visions: Divine Revelations, Angels, and Holy Coincidences
Vision Stories: True Accounts of Visions, Angels, and Healing Miracles
Life Stories: A Study in Christian Decision Making
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle C
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle A
Lectionary Stories: Forty Tellable Tales for Cycle B
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit: 62 Stories for Cycle B
You can order any of our books on the CSS website (http://www.csspub.com); they are also available from www.amazon.com and at many Christian bookstores. Or simply e-mail your order to orders@csspub.com or phone 1-800-241-4056. (If you live outside the U.S., phone 419-227-1818.)
**************
Looking for just the right story for this Sunday's sermon or Sunday School class? There is a large selection of stories on the StoryShare website (http://www.csspub.com/story.lasso). Click on "samples" to see two of our weekly editions.
New subscribers receive a year of StoryShare plus full access to the StoryShare archives for just $19.95. Subscribing online is convenient using our secure server -- or you can all CSS toll-free at (800) 537-1030 Monday - Friday from 8:30 AM - 5:30 PM (Eastern Time) or send an e-mail to orders@csspub.com, and our customer service team will be happy to assist you.
We invite you to forward this offer to all of your friends who are looking for good stories.
**************
StoryShare, July 11, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 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., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
