Chasing Buzzards
Stories
Object:
Contents
"Chasing Buzzards" by C. David McKirachan
"A Mother's Tears" by Richard A. Jensen
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Chasing Buzzards
by C. David McKirachan
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
My call to ministry was a firm and beautiful thing. I held fast to it. But there have been places of wilderness, whole stretches of life during which God's promises were memories from then, seemingly insurmountable obstacles all around me.
However, I had the church, my ordination, the Word, the people. These were not the firm and beautiful presence that brought me to this place, but they were what that presence called me to care for, to build. They were signs, the living sacrifices that were my job to offer up to the one who called me and instructed me from the beginning. But here I am in this present tense waiting.
An awful lot of my ministry has been spent trying to minimize the confusing and destructive normalities of this world. These sad and inevitable pushes and pulls of life, disappointments, fears, fatigue, and pain allied with the whispers of pride, ambition, self-doubt, and simple laziness pull and tear at the Body of Christ and make me question all that I have been called to do and be. So here I am spending my life chasing them away, while I wait for the coming of the Lord who fulfills all promises.
Once in a while I rebel. After all, I've had a lot of training. I've been called. Why should I be wasting my time on this? It's dirty work. And I'm bored. But if it was good enough work for Abram, I guess it better be good enough for me.
So perhaps, chasing buzzards is a basic part of my job, a necessary part of my job, a downright noble part of my job. Besides, they're ugly, smelly creatures. No offense intended. They're offensive enough without my help.
Get out of here, shoo!
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
A Mother's Tears
by Richard A. Jensen
Luke 13:31-35
Gertrude Schmidt loved being a mother. She truly felt that motherhood was her one true vocation in life. Gertrude's devotion to her calling came most clearly to light after her husband, Horst, died. Gertrude and Horst had had three children of their own. Peter was 12, Monica was 10, and Sebastian was 6 when their father died. Gertrude threw herself into the task of mothering more than ever before.
It was difficult, of course, for Gertrude Schmidt to support her family now that Horst was gone. There was a small pension and social security but that was barely enough to keep the family afloat! Gertrude pondered her situation. She came up with a splendid idea! If she would take in foster children for the state she would be given a stipend for raising them. This was the best of all worlds she thought. She could go on being what she wanted to be: a mother. And, she would make additional money in the process.
It wasn't easy for Gertrude Schmidt to convince the social agency that she ought to be allowed to raise foster children. Normally such children were only assigned to homes with two parents. But Gertrude persisted. This one time, therefore, the agency made an exception. They began to assign foster children to the care of Gertrude Schmidt.
Gertrude was overjoyed at this turn of events. She plunged into motherhood with more gusto than ever. She loved her own children. She loved the foster children who were assigned to her. She spoke of them all tenderly referring to them often as, ''my flock.''
Over the years, however Gertrude Schmidt's joy at being a mother turned into grief. The first foster child she took in was a 15-year-old boy named Gary. Gary had been in and out of many foster homes leaving much trouble in his wake. Gertrude was undeterred. She would take Gary in and love him into manhood. But it didn't work. Gary ran with a rough crowd. One night he had been with some boys who were drinking. There was an automobile accident. Gary was killed. And Gertrude wept.
Her own son, Peter, had really taken to Gary. He, too, was filled with grief over Gary's accidental death. In his grief Peter turned sullen. He spoke hardly a word. And then one day, Peter was gone. No note, no words of farewell, simply gone. Grief had driven him to the chase. And Gertrude wept.
A second foster child, a girl named Cynthia, came to live under the loving care and protection of Gertrude Schmidt. Cynthia had originally come from a very wealthy home. She was quite spoiled. It was hard for her to take the near poverty conditions that reigned at Gertrude Schmidt's place. She wanted so many things. She wanted them so badly that she began to steal them. Cynthia was caught shoplifting several times. The judge, listening to Gertrude's loving pleas, tried to be lenient. Leniency did not work, however, and Cynthia was finally put in juvenile detention.
Once again, Gertrude wept. Her heart was broken. She had given all of the love she could muster to her ''flock.'' If only she could just gather them all up in her arms and love them. But her love was spurned. And Gertrude wept. It's all she knew how to do. Gertrude wept.
(Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, 57 Stories For Cycle C [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 1994], pp. 47-48)
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 24, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"Chasing Buzzards" by C. David McKirachan
"A Mother's Tears" by Richard A. Jensen
* * * * * * * *
Chasing Buzzards
by C. David McKirachan
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
My call to ministry was a firm and beautiful thing. I held fast to it. But there have been places of wilderness, whole stretches of life during which God's promises were memories from then, seemingly insurmountable obstacles all around me.
However, I had the church, my ordination, the Word, the people. These were not the firm and beautiful presence that brought me to this place, but they were what that presence called me to care for, to build. They were signs, the living sacrifices that were my job to offer up to the one who called me and instructed me from the beginning. But here I am in this present tense waiting.
An awful lot of my ministry has been spent trying to minimize the confusing and destructive normalities of this world. These sad and inevitable pushes and pulls of life, disappointments, fears, fatigue, and pain allied with the whispers of pride, ambition, self-doubt, and simple laziness pull and tear at the Body of Christ and make me question all that I have been called to do and be. So here I am spending my life chasing them away, while I wait for the coming of the Lord who fulfills all promises.
Once in a while I rebel. After all, I've had a lot of training. I've been called. Why should I be wasting my time on this? It's dirty work. And I'm bored. But if it was good enough work for Abram, I guess it better be good enough for me.
So perhaps, chasing buzzards is a basic part of my job, a necessary part of my job, a downright noble part of my job. Besides, they're ugly, smelly creatures. No offense intended. They're offensive enough without my help.
Get out of here, shoo!
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
A Mother's Tears
by Richard A. Jensen
Luke 13:31-35
Gertrude Schmidt loved being a mother. She truly felt that motherhood was her one true vocation in life. Gertrude's devotion to her calling came most clearly to light after her husband, Horst, died. Gertrude and Horst had had three children of their own. Peter was 12, Monica was 10, and Sebastian was 6 when their father died. Gertrude threw herself into the task of mothering more than ever before.
It was difficult, of course, for Gertrude Schmidt to support her family now that Horst was gone. There was a small pension and social security but that was barely enough to keep the family afloat! Gertrude pondered her situation. She came up with a splendid idea! If she would take in foster children for the state she would be given a stipend for raising them. This was the best of all worlds she thought. She could go on being what she wanted to be: a mother. And, she would make additional money in the process.
It wasn't easy for Gertrude Schmidt to convince the social agency that she ought to be allowed to raise foster children. Normally such children were only assigned to homes with two parents. But Gertrude persisted. This one time, therefore, the agency made an exception. They began to assign foster children to the care of Gertrude Schmidt.
Gertrude was overjoyed at this turn of events. She plunged into motherhood with more gusto than ever. She loved her own children. She loved the foster children who were assigned to her. She spoke of them all tenderly referring to them often as, ''my flock.''
Over the years, however Gertrude Schmidt's joy at being a mother turned into grief. The first foster child she took in was a 15-year-old boy named Gary. Gary had been in and out of many foster homes leaving much trouble in his wake. Gertrude was undeterred. She would take Gary in and love him into manhood. But it didn't work. Gary ran with a rough crowd. One night he had been with some boys who were drinking. There was an automobile accident. Gary was killed. And Gertrude wept.
Her own son, Peter, had really taken to Gary. He, too, was filled with grief over Gary's accidental death. In his grief Peter turned sullen. He spoke hardly a word. And then one day, Peter was gone. No note, no words of farewell, simply gone. Grief had driven him to the chase. And Gertrude wept.
A second foster child, a girl named Cynthia, came to live under the loving care and protection of Gertrude Schmidt. Cynthia had originally come from a very wealthy home. She was quite spoiled. It was hard for her to take the near poverty conditions that reigned at Gertrude Schmidt's place. She wanted so many things. She wanted them so badly that she began to steal them. Cynthia was caught shoplifting several times. The judge, listening to Gertrude's loving pleas, tried to be lenient. Leniency did not work, however, and Cynthia was finally put in juvenile detention.
Once again, Gertrude wept. Her heart was broken. She had given all of the love she could muster to her ''flock.'' If only she could just gather them all up in her arms and love them. But her love was spurned. And Gertrude wept. It's all she knew how to do. Gertrude wept.
(Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit, 57 Stories For Cycle C [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 1994], pp. 47-48)
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 24, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
