Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ

From March 14-21, 24 members of ORUCC and Madison Mennonite Church traveled to Nagua in the Dominican Republic to work with Habitat for Humanity.

Photos can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/boydwinton

Click below for a photo montage/video of the trip

preached by Winton Boyd onEaster Sunday – March 23, 2008
Like many of you, I love to travel. I have had the opportunity to see many different places in this country and abroad. I have taken biking trips, camping trips, backpacking trips, service-learning trips with high school, college students, and families. I have met wonderful people with whom I share a language and superb people with whom I have little in common – be it language, culture, or religion. Certainly some of my most soulful moments have come during traveling and meeting others. Continue Reading »

MONDAY, MARCH 10
The headlines hit me in the face again today
with who’s happy and who’s sad . . .

I’m glad for the happy ones:
promotions, weddings, winning, making it big . . .
but there is so much sadness,
so much that doesn’t need to be . . .
shouldn’t be . . .
it’s unfair, it’s horrible!

How can you make a world in which
people starve in Africa,
nineteen-year-old boys kill each other in Iraq
fire destroys a whole family in that tenement house?
Why, with all the new cars, trips, lobster, steak,
gin and Scotch around,
is there never enough money to give the city’s children
a decent education, or the poor a decent living standard?

What’s wrong with you, Lord?
Can’t you do something about it?

You mean . . .you expect ME
to do something about it?

Oh . . .

Robert Raines (Lord, Could You Make It A Little Better?)

TUESDAY, MARCH 11
What have I found renewing my Christian faith?

As I thought about what has been renewing for me this past year in my relationship with God simple phrases one after another raced into my mind: letting go of assumptions that don’t work anymore; searching my heart to be myself as called by God; finding God in Her creation, the earth; breathing deeply; slowing down; sitting quietly; watching the sun set; reducing clutter; giving to others; listening to others as they let go of stress and distress; praying for others and myself, listening for God’s acknowledgement and reply; reading books of others thoughts and understandings of faith and spirit; sharing with friends who also struggle with and practice their faith the best they know how, and yes, making prayer shawls.
These simple things have given me strength, joy and newness of life.

Ree Hale

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12
It was in July of 2004 and our family was at the Taize Community in France. Taize is run by a group of about 100 non-denominational monks, and hosts up to several thousand teenagers each week for 7 days of conversation, worship, eating, working and meeting others from around the world. Three times a day we gathered for singing (in several languages) and prayer in their simple chapel. One afternoon, I was deeply moved by an English song,

“I am sure I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, Yes, I shall see the goodness of the Lord, hold firm, take heart.”

In my journal, I wrote the following words, “This morning we sang this song, and it has become my mantra for the day. I realized as I sang it that for a while now, probably since 9/11, that I have lived with a low-grade depression about the state of the world… The song brought me back to my faith – both the ability to “see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (hope) and “hold firm” (don’t despair even if it isn’t easy). It hit me, this profoundly simple proclamation of faith – like a ton of bricks. For that I am grateful.”

I have returned to this song many times in my walking, running, singing or meditating. In all kinds of situations, with all kinds of people, I have used this song to call myself back to a core value of my faith – which is that the goodness of God outlasts the despair we experience in one another, in natural catastrophes, and in our own personal lives.

More universally, I find music to be incredibly important in my faith journey. The Germans have a word, “ohrwurm,” for music they call an “ear worm.” This is one of those songs that sticks with you all week. I love Taize music and other simple faith music because it stays with me from day to day, place to place, situation to situation. Staying hopeful, for me, involves keeping the promise of hope literally on the tip of my tongue. Singing Taize chants, like the rosary for millions of Catholics around the world, helps keep hope alive even in the most difficult times.

Winton Boyd

THURSDAY, MARCH 13
Attending an ORUCC retreat a few weekends ago a poem by Thomas Merton was shared with us. As I read the poem there was one verse that really grabbed me and continues to be a bit of a mantra for me through this winter season. It was this…“Love the winter. When the plant says nothing”. At a time when the busyness of my work and of personal commitments was getting out of hand, I welcomed the message that came through to me in that verse. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. For what I heard in those words was this: It is okay to be quiet. Be still. Come home. Have dinner. Rest. No new commitments for awhile. I was feeling the need to retreat and the winter landscape was telling me to embrace that need.

Over the past few weeks, a brief glance out the window overlooking my garden and I breath that same sigh of relief. I don’t exactly know what role God plays in this but I do know that I feel closer to God and feel like I’m getting back on track spiritually when I slow down and pay attention to the lessons that nature has to teach me. Often those lessons are about listening rather than talking; being rather than doing. And in the listening and the being I’m able to clear my mind of its usual worries and concerns and allow words, images and ideas to enter in that will feed my spirit. One example in particular is a verse from 2 Corinthians 9:8 and happens to be part of the God is Still Speaking campaign. It is printed on a small red business card and reads, “And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance so that by always having enough of everything you may share abundantly in every good work.” I have this verse taped to my bathroom mirror and I try to take a few moments each day to reflect on its meaning for me. My response is similar to when I look out over a winter landscape. I let out this sigh of relief and experience an assurance of what I know deep down to be true; that I have many blessings in my life and already have everything I need.

LuAnn Greiner

FRIDAY, MARCH 14
Trust God and Sin on Bravely

I have to decide Yes or No
and neither option seems wholly right
but there is no third possibility
not to decide is to decide
so I must decide one way
or the other. . .
either way
somebody gets hurt
there’s no painless, pure way through
my hands are tied
there are limits and I’ve reached them
how can I justify what I have to do?
to the parties involved?
to myself?
to you?

I remember Luther’s comment
Trust God and sin on bravely
that’s a dangerous freedom
and a gracious responsibility
I could abuse either the freedom
or the responsibility

Lord, will you go with me
as I decide?
cover my inevitable sin with your grace
accept me
even when I’m unacceptable
let my Yes or No
be born out of
a brave trust

Robert Raines (Lord, Could You Make It A Little Better?)

SATURDAY, MARCH 15
The italicized paragraphs are excerpts from a blessing for Elizabeth Strasma’s new childcare center in June 2007, written by Winton Boyd. They are followed by a current story from Elizabeth.

We gather today to ask your blessing on this new center for children and babies.
We know the heart and hard work that has gone into this dream – we know the tireless hours, the uncountable details, the unexpected surprises and the moments of despair that have preceded this day.

…We give you thanks for the entire Strasma/Golestani family. We thank you for the ability of this family, and others, to work together to make dreams come true. We know your Spirit has been with them in ways known and unknown – and for that we are grateful.

It is in the spirit of this dream that we gather today with hope and joy for the future. It is in the spirit of this dream that we celebrate the children who have already graced this building and these grounds. It is in the spirit of this dream that we share the hope for those children who will come in the days, months and years ahead.

Recently, the center began running well enough to free up a few more brain cells, and one day I happened to re-read the center blessing. I’d re-read it a few times since the blessing, but oddly enough, had never caught the phrase “unexpected surprises.” This time I did, and it made me laugh, and it confirmed my occasional guess that you might know the first half of this story:

It was (literally as well as figuratively) a dark and stormy night. I was exhausted and anxious, near despair after a bad mistake (thanks again for listening then) and with mortgage paperwork, but slogging on. Late one evening, on my way home, I noticed a hall light was on in the center. I parked, and ran through the pouring rain to the door. Suddenly I noticed a little car near the edge of the playground, and thought, “those neighbor kids have been into our playground; that fire truck was over by the sandbox. I’ll just stick it inside for tonight.” I brought it in, wet and dripping, and then just stared at it. It wasn’t our fire truck at all, it was a lovely little car with a top and a door that opened. I opened the door again to peer through the rain, and sure enough, the fire truck was where we’d left it. I just stared and stared at that little red car, but my brain never works well in the evening anyway, and I couldn’t imagine where it had come from.

Then things got busier, if that were possible, and there was no time to think about it anymore, though I enjoyed savoring the mystery occasionally. That little red car joined the other vehicles upstairs, in our “indoor playground,” and it’s still the children’s favorite.

Elizabeth Strasma

SUNDAY, MARCH 16
When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.

Let us realize that William Cullen Bryant is right: “Truth crushed to earth will rise again.” Let us go out realizing that the Bible is right: “Be not deceived, God is not mocked. Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” This is for hope for the future, and with this faith we will be able to sing in some not too distant tomorrow with a cosmic past tense, “We have overcome, we have overcome, deep in my heart, I did believe we would overcome.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. (Final speech to the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, August 16, 1967, in I Have A Dream, edited by James Washington)

For the Vegetables Less Traveled…

Are you ready to join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) and have farm fresh food at your fingertips? CSA farms provide weekly distributions of sustainably grown fruits, vegetables, meats, flowers, and dairy products to households who join the farm for the season. Attend this free, family friendly event to celebrate Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) and find out which one is best for you! Browse information from CSA farms serving communities serving southern Wisconsin, meet the farmers, and learn about fresh local foods through demonstrations, workshops, & slide shows. Event features a raffle for a gift certificate toward a CSA membership from your CSA of choice.

For all the info you need on what a CSA is and how it works go to: http://www.macsac.org/aboutcsa.html

Did you know that all of the major HMOs in the Madison area offer cash rebates (up to $300) off the cost of produce shares from CSA farms for the 2008 season! Go to the following link and learn how to get paid to join a CSA. http://www.macsac.org/rebates.html

MONDAY, MARCH 3
“You become what you do.” A guy said this to me when I was a college freshman. He was pretty obnoxious, actually, quite full of himself, but that line has stuck with me my whole life. You become what you do. But not just each of us in isolation. We are affected by others. We become what we all together do. Every day in every way we make choices that have consequences for ourselves and other people. This is a blessing and a curse. It is a source of despair and a source of hope. We cannot undo the past. Every time we say yes to some things we say no to countless other things. We make dozens of choices every day that matter for ourselves, for other people, for the world. Sometimes we do good, sometimes we hurt people. Sometimes what helps one person hurts another. We live embedded in opportunities and constraints created by other people’s choices, and we in our turn create constraints and opportunities for ourselves and others. This is a law of nature, this is how our finite and interdependent universe works. It can be terrifying to contemplate just how much what we do matters for ourselves and for others, how much good and evil we do to others, often without even knowing it.

And so I bring this all to God. My weakness, my terror at mattering in the world. The times I have hurt other people, the ways I fall short in doing justice. But also the times I have helped other people, the ways in which I have worked for justice, and the ways other people have helped me. And in God it comes around. I am part of God. I am not God, but I am part of God, a fragment of God, and I live surrounded by and interconnected with all the other fragments of God, all the other people who, like me, are a strange mixture of good and evil. I do not need to be God, I do not need to be all-good, all-powerful. I just need to slow down, to let myself feel the presence of God all around me, to let myself know my connection to God and to all of life, to feel my connection to the joy and the sorrow of all of humanity. In this act of reaching out, of prayer, and of submission I feel a sense of direction as well as acceptance of my limitations. My awareness of my own failings has helped me to grow and deepen as a human being. I have become less self-centered, less self-righteous, more open to and forgiving of the struggles and disappointments of other imperfect people, and more able to do what is right. When I allow God to find me, I experience joy that I have been called to a life of connection and meaning and purpose. I become what I do.

Pamela Oliver

TUESDAY, MARCH 4
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Mary Oliver(In Blackwater Woods)

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5
For me, the season of Lent is flavored by the year I went through confirmation. It was a bad year: by my mother’s account, there are large chunks of it missing from my memory entirely, and most of what I do remember is being frightened. I was, at the same time, arrogant and convinced I was special, and also faced for the first time with not mattering and not liking myself much. After all, I hadn’t done much yet. There wasn’t anything to like. I talked a lot about shadows, hiding, death, and pain. I doodled swords across all my homework, and was pretty well convinced that I wouldn’t care if I died. I could not compare myself to Jesus at Gethsemane, or even to the disciples falling asleep in the garden. I identified with Judas, loved because Jesus loved everyone, and finding, in the end, failure and defeat. There was nothing interesting or beautiful about how I felt, this depression, because it served no purpose. Climbing out of it has been a matter of learning to care about and do things for other people far more than it’s had anything to do with my opinion of myself.

Fast forward ten years, having my heart broken three times, a degree in philosophy and a lot of friends. Still not Jesus, still not able to die for the sins of the world. Still not really living up to what I want to be. But, somewhere when I wasn’t paying attention, I’m not the youngest person I know anymore. They say nothing is ever wasted, and sometime in the last year or so, other people have started being like me in ways they weren’t before, and every now and then, when I’m very lucky, I can see just where a hug or a smile or even a turning away with a frown can do the most good. No profound insight or anything, just an old blindness that’s dropped away. It’s growing up.

You don’t get Easter if you don’t go through Lent. They’re not two separate things, rebirth and death. It’s not even that the dying is the cost you pay to live again. The dying is the same thing as the living again. Which means, incidentally, that living again is the same thing as dying. There’s no trick to it. We’re human. It’s just a thing we do: we remember.

Elizabeth Lemke-Oliver

THURSDAY, MARCH 6
Grace happens. Without invitation, without warning, sometimes it just sneaks up on you, stops you in your tracks, and says, “Pause; feel; find your center, for that’s where you’ll find God patiently waiting for you.”

This past summer, if you’d asked me if I needed to teach Sunday School, I would have laughed the ironic laugh of one who is slightly stressed, slightly crazy, and more than slightly busy. I’d have put it right up there with an IRS audit as something I “needed”. But grace happened. It began by teasing me with an article in the Communion describing a new approach to Sunday School. Several times over the next few days, I found myself picking through the chaos that is our kitchen table to find that Communion and pull it back out to reread Tammy’s article. It wasn’t like I’d decided I was going to teach Sunday School again – after all, I was moderator elect and the coach of a couple of middle school math teams and subject to pages from customers – but every time I read Tammy’s article I felt my head nod and my heart lift. So I wasn’t at all surprised when the next time I bumped into Tammy I said what I felt but hadn’t really acknowledged to myself – I wanted to teach Sunday School. There was grace, putting words in my mouth. True words, words it had already found in my heart. And as grace led me to say those words, it spoke other words to me: “Pause; feel; find your center, for that’s how you’ll renew yourself.”

Every Sunday, I begin my worship by finding my center with the help of Leah and the kids we guide. We leave our shoes at the door, we dim the lights, we light candles, we ring bells – we create ritual. Through our ritual, we learn to stop the outside world a tiny bit, to open our inner ears to God in each of us. Through our ritual, we reopen spaces that we’ve let close up, spaces that God moves into, spaces in which God silently speaks to us. Through our ritual, I’ve learned that teaching Sunday School is exactly what I need.

So grace happened to me. Without invitation, without warning, it snuck up on me, it stopped me in my tracks, and it said to me: “Pause; feel; find your center, for God is there with you.”

John Lemke

FRIDAY, MARCH 7
God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

Reinhold Niebuhr

SATURDAY, MARCH 8
Renewal is a funny thing. It’s elusive and usually best when unexpected. I have had many of those moments this year with the 22 new loves of my life- my second graders. As a first year teacher I am having a ball and wouldn’t change a thing, but that is not to say that there aren’t days when I get red in the face and just can’t believe that a seven year old got the best of me.

Somehow on these days it seems so important that we get that fact practice done now so we can move on to science. Time’s a tickin’ and they are dawdling. Those days, days when teaching is less like teaching and more like cattle herding I find I need renewal the most. It’s like being in a pit, one that I can’t get out of alone. Once that rushed frustrated teacher makes an appearance it is hard to find the teacher that is patient and warm. I just can’t do it on my own some days. And on those days, without fail, just when I’ve gotten to the point where I am ready to say, ‘Forget it! I am done,’ one of those sweet silly souls comes up to me and says something either so profound or hysterical that I do the unthinkable: I laugh. My kids know this laugh well and when they hear it they all want to know what happened, what was said that got them their teacher back. And once again we become a class.

It’s in the laugh that the renewal happens. I am pulled out of the pit by a seven year old. I am reminded that it’s not in fact so bad, that I’m doing ok, and most importantly that there is a being out there with quite a sense of humor. It allows me to restart: clear the slate and try again.

Kari Nonn

SUNDAY, MARCH 9
I have learned that when things are looking the darkest, when fear is strong, when I am unsure of where to turn, that if I can just remember to be still a moment and pray, I will know God is near. If I pray without ceasing, which to me means any moment during a busy day, I remember that when fear knocks at the door and courage answers, there is no one there and I can get through those challenging times.

In the midst of human busyness which controls so many waking minutes, just being mindful that I have a choice to step back and let go of what is troubling me, I can find peace and the courage to go forward. The truth is that we do not face anything alone for God is always with us. When I forget this simple I struggle and feel anxious, but when I remember this important truth, I find comfort and peace. Setbacks are temporary and can be healed by a healing quiet spirit that brings renewal. May we remember this truth especially when we need it most.

Joyce Binder