Author Archives: Lisa Lewton

Walking the Car Lots

I have one dad and one daughter.

When I was the young daughter of my dad long ago, we could not leave the city of Minot without driving through a car lot or two. Minot was the big city where we went for doctor appointments, regional basketball tournaments, and car parts (my dad ran a gas station). And Minot offered a half dozen car lots for my dad to drive through.

Up and down the rows of cars we went, slowing to a stop so my dad could get out from the driver’s seat and I would roll my eyes and wonder when it would ever end. More rows of cars. More car lots. More slowing to a stop. More opening the door even in the dead of winter to peak inside the windows.

And shortly after those days did end, I had a daughter who loves to walk through the car lots not too many blocks from our home. Up and down the rows of cars we walk. Slowing to a stop so she can peak in the windows and act appalled at the price tag. Today, she said to a very expensive and very shiny SUV, “Now that’s just stupid.”

So here I am again. More rows of cars. More car lots. Because my one dad and my one daughter are two of my very favorite people in the entire world.

No, No, No, No, Yes

jim trott on Tumblr | Vicar of dibley, British tv comedies, British sitcoms

If you are not aware this is Jim from “Vicar of Dibley”, then woe is you. Unless your life is absolutely overflowing with laughter and lightheartedness (that is, if you have no idea what is going on in the world), you may need to subscribe to Britbox on Amazon Prime this weekend and get to know Jim and his eccentric priest, Geraldine Granger, the Vicar in the village of Dibley.

It will only take a few hours of your life to make you forget there is anything weird going on in the world. If ever you needed to hang out in the delightful village of Dibley, now is the time.

Jim has a unique way of speaking, repeating “No, no, no, no” only to finally reach the word “yes”. I feel Jim bubble up inside me these days through the otherwise normal questions my kids ask.

“Can we have a sleepover?”

“Can we go out for supper at a real restaurant where someone else cleans up?”

“Can we go somewhere for the weekend?”

“No, no, no…” I say, again and again. Not yet. Someday. Maybe soon? I don’t really know. Want to play Four Square? Should we go pick up donuts?

There will come a day when my kids ask one of those questions and I will respond naturally, “No, no, no, no…yes!” It will occur to me that we are free to move about and they will have sleepovers and we will go out to a restaurant and travel somewhere for the weekend and it will be amazing!

Until then, go to Dibley this weekend and laugh until you cry. And if you wonder whether the weirdness of these days will last forever, you can be sure the answer is no, no, no, NO.

Lucky To Be Alive Right Now

(Photo by Tairon Fernandez on Pexels.com)

And…back to “Hamilton”, when Eliza (almost Hamilton) sang again and again, “Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now!”

It was the slow birth of America and Eliza was caught up in the excitement of midwifing a country. The people were on the brink of freedom and they felt lucky to be alive to see it.

Today, we are not united by American freedoms, we are divided by them. Divided by narcissistic political ideologies, by Christian extremism, by racism so embodied in our values we miss it, by our fear of the stranger.

And yet, how lucky we are to be alive right now! How lucky we are to be part of the loud cry to dismantle racism; that our kids might see our generational mistakes for what they are, name the pain that has been caused, and pave a path of hope for those dehumanized by the American quest for power.

How lucky we are to be alive in a pandemic when all our busy schedules were put on hold and we, for a moment, glimpsed the truth that relationships and people matter most.

How lucky we are that our kids are experiencing disruption and we have been able to walk with them. Life is a series of disruptions and this time we could encourage them through it.

How lucky we are, if we might live like we are alive right now to the Spirit’s breezes and windstorms. How lucky we are to be alive in the Spirit’s aliveness, calling us out of our stupor to birth a new possibility for the neighbor and the stranger. How lucky.

A Prayer For Teachers

(Photo by Allie on Unsplash)

Dear God, Maker of the Magnificent,

Thank you for teachers. For the people whom you equipped with gifts of kindness, curiosity, and words, we rejoice. For those whose smiles have been branded into the hearts of their students, thank you. Keep them safe and well.

In this surprising time and in all times, teachers handle surprises. All day, who knows when glue will spill, or a stressed out kid will lose it, or technology will raise their blood pressure. They have survived endless weeks of indoor recess during frigid winters and their grace is a shining light in the world.

God, it was a grand idea that you made teachers. After online school in the spring, parents like me cannot thank you enough.

Today, bless teachers as they plan for this strange school year, doing the work they would normally be doing and so much more. With no incentive beyond doing what is best for kids, teachers are hard at work behind the scenes and they need you, Lord, to show up in their classrooms, on their devices, and in the rare quiet moments they have these days.

Make technology amazingly cooperative for each of them. Surround them with parents and guardians who care about their well-being. Strengthen their counselors and principals (especially the cute one at DMS) to respond to these challenges with a deep breath and extra wisdom.

Teach us all, God who put on flesh, to be humans who are gentle with one another. Teach us to be humans who first see the best in each other, and then help us bring out the very best in one another for the sake of the ones who will be walking into school doors next week.

Thank you for my cousin Penny in her 37th year of teaching, and my friend Suzanna in her very first. Amid the unknowns, I do know people like Penny and Suzanna will make this year special as usual for my own three kids in three different buildings. And you will be there, too, giver of peace and hope. As we find our way into this new school year, we find you here with us.

In the name of the one whose teaching of mercy and hope around the corner is enough for these days, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

When Hamilton Streams in My Head All Day

“My name is Alexander Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.”

Finally, I know the tune! I do know your name, Alexander Hamilton! “In New York you can be a new man. Just you wait.”

I am a few years behind in getting to the musical, “Hamilton”. The majority of my little family does not adore musicals as much as I do, so it took me a while. Thanks to Disney+ and Amazon Prime, I’ve been watching and listening to Hamilton constantly for the past four days, much to my family’s chagrin. When the music isn’t playing outside my head it is playing inside of it. Or, I sing the tunes to my family until I suspect their eyes might not roll back into their proper place.

“And I’m not throwing away my shot!” I sing to them.

“We’re gonna Rise Up!” I sing to them.

My family thinks I’m ridiculous, but I can’t get enough of Alexander Hamilton’s life. (I prefer this musical to his 800 page biographies.) Getting caught up in the music and story of this courageous immigrant who couldn’t seem to die, as he sings, is a delightful right now to “Take a Break”.

While I cannot cheer on my favorite sports team from a seat at Target Field or worship in the same room with the entire community of faith at St. John, I can be united in the long ago revolutionary fight for freedom. I can admire the genius of the writing and the breathtaking talent of the small crew who pulled off this brilliant musical.

So I will watch and listen to “Hamilton”, as the king of England sings, forever and ever and ever.

What’s For Supper?

(Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com)

Like many moms throughout this day, someone will ask me “What’s for supper?” approximately 85 times. It is a burning question fueled not by hunger. Usually this question emerges from the corner of the brain assigned to “Annoying and Impertinent Questions to Ask a Parent All Day Long.”

“What’s for supper?”

“I’m bored, what can I do?”

“Do I have to?”

“Mom, can you [fill in the blank with something he or she can do but wants you to do instead] for me?”

Today when someone asks me “What’s for supper?” I’m going to play dumb.

“Who is Supper? Is he a new friend? Do you need to bring him something? What? A cookie? A Gatorade? What? Supper is not a new friend? Is Supper your new teacher? Do you need to get her an apple? No? You look angry. Did you rename the dog Supper? And we need to get something for the dog? That’s a lame name, you know. Why would you name the dog Supper? Anyway, I need to go start making supper.”

Worry to Here and No Farther

(Photo by Bekir Dönmez on Unsplash)

Just how far ahead do I worry?

Do I worry as far as the first day of school and what this historic day might look like for my kids in elementary, middle and high school? Can we make it that far as five healthy people?

Do I worry a month beyond the start of school, after it is likely one of my kids’ classrooms will be exposed, we will stay home, and then start over again? Do I worry that far?

Do I worry to Thanksgiving? Christmas? 2021?

No, I will not worry that far ahead. I worry about my retirement fund that far ahead, but nothing else. Life is not my retirement fund, although it is equally unpredictable.

I will be cautious and faithful to the work of caring for my neighbor by wearing a mask, while praying for health care and vaccine research folks. I will be grateful for every human whose work supports my kids education. I will work with my family to love our neighbor uniquely in this unique time. And I will not worry too far ahead. Instead, I will remember Jesus is with me now, and goes ahead with me later.

Worry. Perhaps. But not too far ahead.

COVID-19 on Mars and Venus (but actually on Earth)

(Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com)

Men are from Mars and women are from Venus, John Gray proposed many years ago. Or to paraphrase a woman I volunteered with a couple of weeks ago at baseball concessions, “Women have many things on their minds, men have just one.”

Hehehe.

Yesterday I was on a Zoom call with pastors from around the country. It was our first gathering in a cohort through Luther Seminary We discussed chapters from our first book, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, a book that happens to align well with the times, although I suspect it was chosen before March.

In a break-out group of about 7 people, 4 of us were women. We shared openly what has been tough on our souls these past 4 1/2 months. Consistent with what I am hearing from other women, the pandemic is leaving women wondering how much we can actually work our paid jobs and at the same time live our vocations as moms and partners.

For me that means, can I be emotionally present with my kids as they process the changes and grieve the losses through the year ahead, and at the same time lead a large congregation through the same soul work? Can I be fully me, fully present, fully awake to the joys and sorrows both at home and in my call? Do I have the capacity to be mom, partner and pastor all at once in this season of uncertainty?

For now, yes. And it was affirming to hear yesterday from my colleagues who are female that they, too, are overwhelmed by the same pressure. I was in good company.

For me on Venus, I will be very gentle on myself regarding what I can actually do. I’m going to cook good food at home, take walks, mine for conversation with my kids and spouse, and be available and prayerful in my work. I expect to do more listening than anything else. I expect to get frustrated, cry, and enjoy a brown ale to ease the pain. I also expect to lean on my partner, my friends, and my family in a way I maybe never have before, knowing it takes more than a village to be well through a pandemic. Not one of us has done this before. It is a wilderness. And wilderness is full of the presence and light of God, on any and every planet.

Faith Over Fear

(Photo by Bára Buri on Unsplash)

“Why wear a mask when I want to live out of faith, not fear?” asked someone else. (Actually, a lot of someone elses.)

The congregation I serve has been both in-person and online for two months after 11 weeks of online only. Leadership has set an expectation now, as COVID-19 case numbers rise in our county and state, to wear masks when we gather in the church building.

My colleague and I wear masks before and during worship except when we are preaching. It is hot as blazes and extremely hard to enunciate through the cloth over my face, but we do it because this is how we are loving our neighbors and inviting our community of faith to do the same.

“But why would I wear a mask if I want to live out of faith and not fear?”

There is conflicting information in the United States about COVID-19. Is it a thing or is it a hoax? Who is making money off of this and why is the government telling me what to do? Why can I stand in line at Walmart but not gather in a crowd at a funeral? Why will my school be social distancing but my high school football team play face-to-face?

“And why is my church telling me to wear a mask when I want to live out of faith and not fear?” asked several someone elses.

It is a lovely question if, and only if, the question is intended to engender conversation and not inflict a political opinion upon someone else. Asking questions is the way we learn; stating uncompromising political opinions is the way we continue to divide.

“Why would I wear a mask when I want to live out of faith and not fear?”

Why? Yes, why? Could that begin a conversation instead of end it? Be shaped as a question and not a closing statement? Could we really wonder why wearing a mask is in fact the way we live out our faith, unafraid of the mean looks and despicable memes?

That is a question that might lead to faithful, not fearful conversation.

Against All Odds: Christian Hope

(Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com)

To be a Christian is to carry within ourselves a heavy dose of idealism. Day in and day out we must be idealists to hold hopes for this world that are against all odds.

Against all odds, we hope for a world that recognizes a shared humanity. Where people who are white name our sordid history with people who are not white, and then together propose to make it better.

Against all odds, we (Lutherans) idealistically tell babies at baptism to work for justice and peace throughout their lives, even though my own culture will tell them to perpetuate unjust systems that oppress the poor.

Against all odds, we hope for communities to work together to contend with a global pandemic, even it means wearing a mask to the grocery store and to church. Against all odds, we pray and pray for people to care more about each other than their politics, supporting community leaders and putting a faithful stop to angry Facebook memes.

Today is another day that demands outrageous idealism from each one of us who claims to be a Christian, which means to love our neighbor. Perhaps we might even dare to believe, against all odds, that Jesus Christ would make all things new again today. And maybe even tomorrow. All things. All people. All cultures. All communities.

Against all odds.