Would a Spirit of Adoption Make Us Relate?

(Based on my previous post, a classmate from my Collegeville Institute course challenged me to find a current news hook and submit something perhaps as an Op-Ed to the Star Tribune. This is what I wrote, but it wasn’t picked up. There were many urgent issues for comment this week.)

Take this theological concept outside, please!

Thousands who make it inside a church this Sunday will hear about the “spirit of adoption” in one of the lectionary* Bible readings (Romans 8:12-25), while members of adoptive families like mine live it every day. Does this phrase and concept only matter to those whose lives are connected to adoption, foster care, kinship adoption, or adoption by step-parents? Or could claiming it as a goal transform our public life, and painstakingly drag us out of the polarized camps where we have become entrenched since before last fall’s election?

A “spirit of adoption”: Minnesotans know a bit about that. Minnesota has a huge adoption community, bolstered by Lutheran Social Services of MN, Children’s Home Society, the International Adoption Medicine Clinic at the U of M and adult adoptee advocacy organizations like LGA, all based in the Twin Cities. A “spirit of adoption” could and should be in the air here. Yet it’s not something we receive passively. And that’s the point. Adoption makes new family of unrelated people. It’s a choice to relate to others, and commit to being family with those who did not come from you, do not resemble you, and will sometimes exasperate you beyond your limits. Nurturing a “secure attachment,” in adoption lingo, requires consistent, repetitive effort, especially because bonds of trust have been broken before. It is a lot of work, but having a family, committed to us no matter what, launches us into the world to multiply the good, instead of scrambling to take care of ourselves.

I wonder what it would be like if neighbors made a commitment to standing by one another, like an adoptive family does – not because of our similarities, but because our differences make such a commitment necessary. What if residents of a city or town decided that just because another person was also a resident in their town, despite living in a different area, being of a different race, speaking a different language, or practicing a different religion, we were still related just because we are all members of the human family? What happens to them therefore matters deeply to us: in a show-up-with-a-casserole, testify-at-city-hall, confront-negligent-landlords kind of way. The “spirit of adoption” means defending and loving our family no matter what.

In families there is sometimes the matter of inheritance, and always the matter of legacy. We divide and sometimes fight over the material goods, money or resources, as our communities might when making budget decisions on the local and state-wide level. We lick our wounds and take stock of what we received from previous generations: assessing what to keep and what to throw away. It’s hard for those who thought everyone was getting a fair share to hear the opposite without getting defensive. But family, it must be done. If we are committed to staying at the same dinner table no matter how the conversation goes, our legacy will be to nurture belonging instead of walking away.

*The Revised Common Lectionary is a 3 year cycle of Bible readings followed by the majority of Lutheran, Methodist, Episcopal, UCC and Roman Catholic churches.

Preach on Us

Preach about my family this Sunday!

(Maybe not by name, because you probably have adoptive families or adult adoptees in your own congregation, and they should be the ones you consult and name.) But trust me, we have some serious lived commentary on the “spirit of adoption” in Romans 8:12-25 (the Epistle reading in the Revised Common Lectionary on July 23, 2017). This passage was one of the Scriptures I highlighted in an article for WorkingPreacher.org, as a built-in opportunity to speak from the pulpit about adoption. Now’s your chance!

The spirit of adoption is first of all, its permanence. We are forever families, but we’ve had to work at that secure attachment. When a child is born, and their needs are met consistently by a primary care giver, the child seems to have an innate trust and bond with that care giver (usually a parent). But it isn’t innate; it comes through constant attention and consistent care and affection, which is a great deal of work, especially in the middle of the night. It takes deep commitment to love and care for a child no matter what. Every. Single. Time. Through our own wounds, losses, upheaval, and even post-partum depression.

When my husband and I adopted our eldest daughter, for awhile attachment was the primary focus of our lives. Prospective adoptive parents are counseled on how to establish that they alone are the ones their child should attach to in their new life, which can seem harsh to grandparents, friends and other care givers. Parents must be the ones to meet all their child’s needs for physical affection, emotional comfort, and basic needs like feeding them. No one else, for 6 months, we were told. It was not a threat, to heed or feel guilty about (there are circumstances; people work). It was advice from those who know how delicate and difficult it can be for us to form new secure attachments, to trust and live as though this new relationship will be forever. To do that, we need our focus narrowed down to only 1 or 2 people, until it sticks. There will be developmental stages, especially in the teenage years, when everyone questions their identity and belonging, but the goal we keep in front of us as adoptive parents is to pay attention to nurturing attachment and never to sow any seeds of doubt about the permanence of our family. Let me spell out the comparison: As Paul writes, when we cry “Abba! Father!” it is the spirit bearing witness to our trust that God our Parent hears and will respond to us. Every. Single. Time. This is a permanent, secure attachment. But even with God, it takes time to develop attachment when we’ve been abandoned before.

In our family, and in my reading of Paul’s theology, the spirit of adoption is about choosing to be transformed. We opt in, then the scale of the transformation completely blows us away. Parents, both birth and adoptive, make the initial adoption plan, with none of us knowing the extent or details about how we will be transformed by these new relationships. We believe God chooses us as God’s own children, but is God also surprised at being changed through relationship with us? What was initiated with new relationships was transformation, but not just for one of us, for all of us!

The transformation ripples outward from parent/child to siblings, extended family, community and beyond. It was not just our daughter’s life that changed when we adopted her. I became a mother; my husband became a father; and our expectations about what that involves had to adjust immediately. When a child is available for adoption, it can mean that there is neglect, abuse, abandonment or institutional care in their history. Behaviors in reaction to that history can emerge later, to test the boundaries of parents’ commitment once the child feels a little bit safe. Developmental delays and unknown disabilities surface. One parent in an adoptive families support group said, “We were ready to be in the category ‘adoptive families’ but now realize that we also need to navigate being parents of kids with special needs.” Everyone participated in that support group because we have been transformed by our beloved children – and wouldn’t change our fierce love for them ever – but don’t always have a handle on how to process all of it.

Our extended families also had to learn to speak about families in ways that include our beloved child by adoption. Adoptive families may draw our family trees differently, reassess how we value our families’ ethnic heritage, and shift the conversation about family resemblances from physical attributes to personalities, to make us all think more intentionally about what really makes us belong together. If people in our churches ever refer to the congregation as a “church family” then it can be very illuminating to ask intentional questions about how our words and actions imply belonging (or not) for those who are not born into the church family, or don’t resemble the majority.

Inheritance is not a big part of my “spirit of adoption,” but perhaps that is due to my privilege. I do not have to worry about how my basic needs will be met tomorrow, so thinking about a financial inheritance or legacy seems not so relevant as the new relationships adoption has forged with our family members here and now. Yet legacy and inheritance matter a great deal when survival is less certain. Another adoptive family we know is very honest about the heartbreaking circumstances that led to the formation of their family. Their children’s birth parents both died of diseases that were preventable, if they had access to medical care. So part of the legacy their children now have is a future where that particular risk is not such a threat. But we all bristle at the notion that somehow we “saved” our children, which is language better left with Jesus’ actions and not applied to our families. Adoption only comes out of brokenness, that much is true. In this country or abroad, there is plenty of brokenness. We did seek to do some good in the world by adopting a child who needed a family. But being in a family is a mutual relationship, whereby we are all changed by our life together. A savior complex puts a barrier between parent and child that denigrates our child’s origins and questions the love that transforms us both. We committed from the beginning, to suffer together and to be glorified together.

Finally, there is the groaning. This Scripture passage summons collective groans from both labor pains and the pain of waiting for adoption. All children cause parents to groan, both in the waiting to become a family and in living out our relationships our entire lives. What I’d love to hear within a “church family” is the collective groan of those who know we are not complete in our homogeneity, without groan-inducing transformation from relating to those who challenge us. The Spirit cries out for adoption to bring us together with others as with God our Parent. We have not yet embraced all our siblings, stood with them against the world, nor loved them so fiercely no one would dare challenge the lasting bond between us. We have not yet been transformed, until we seek out those relationships that will challenge everything we assumed about ourselves. The Spirit cries out for adoption, to become a new kind of family.

A Ritual to Define the Culture (of a Collegeville Institute workshop)

Group Photo (2)

Did we start yet? Was that part of it, or just a note before we began? Should we be walking reverently or can we keep chatting? The ritual began casually, setting the tone it would carry throughout. Several times I was unsure if we were participating in an official action, or speaking off the cuff, but it didn’t matter either way. Either way, we were clearly among friends, the sentiments behind our actions were real, and what we were doing reflected exactly what this week at Collegeville had been. Through words and pauses, we related to one another, turned introspective, and cast our view outward to what the broader audience needed to hear, all in the same period of time.

Was it intentional, to begin with a question mark, blurring the line between relationship and ritual? If not, it was a clever happenstance. We stood around and waited for Tess to emerge from behind the Butler Center, and lead us to the tree beside Ben’s back porch. Sometimes it is good, she said, to have an object that can hold the meaning of something for us, to be blessed and carried with us. So the tree with its roots and branches and rootedness and branchiness reminded us. Admittedly my mind wandered a little bit at this point, but I did add my cell phone to the pile at the foot of the tree. I’m hazy on the details, because to me the details weren’t the point. The point was the ethos. Sticks of incense along the side of the patio promoted an ethereal spirituality. We were making space, setting the stage for everyone to have their own experience, except all together. Like Collegeville itself.

When we filed inside, Ben had a great blaze going in the fireplace, and all the furniture had been moved to the outskirts of the room so we could stand in a semi-circle. Melanie instructed us, while clarifying both the similarity and difference from the previous group’s ritual, to write on the paper provided something general in our lives that we’d like to be rid of. When Ben opened the glass door in front of that blazing fire, the risk-averse majority among us were content to put our scraps of paper on the small shovel he extended, and let him send up our released hopes as our intermediary.

John smiled at us, and started explaining how we would now bless the person next to us, or thank them, or note how they had blessed us. Then did he say, “for example”? Regardless, the example started, and he was briefly telling Tess who and how she was and what he hoped for her, and when he finished, even she had to pause in front of the fire before deciding we had started and it was now her turn. The explanation had turned into the doing of the thing. The talking about writing the story had turned into the telling of the story itself. We each did this for each other, probably half listening while another spoke and half planning what we would say about or to the person to our left. Isn’t all word-smithing half listening and half planning anyway? Caroline gave us each a long match stick so we could write a word in the air outside, releasing it into the universe. Several people explained that they would have preferred sparklers, but, oh well.

The ritual ended with drinks and snacks and people settling into groups to talk, laugh, and tell stories, morphing seamlessly into “porch beers,” a ritual which already had a precedent this week. Or maybe it didn’t end; maybe it’s still going. The assignment had been to create a ritual so that the other group could write about it as if we were anthropologists. Perhaps it was just inadvertent that Group 2 created a ritual to summarize and define the culture of the Collegeville Institute during our particular week. Or maybe it was intentional.

Non-Profits as Faith Communities?

We need a new church.

The majority of Millenials are not going to church, even those who grew up in a church. Seminary enrollment is down, which means that young adults are largely not considering careers serving the Church. That doesn’t mean that this generation doesn’t have faith, or don’t want to live out their faith in concrete actions or be part of a movement. It just means that congregations are not the way most Millenials are choosing to do these things. The “How We Gather” study by two students at Harvard Divinity detailed some “replacement” organizations that Millenials are using to meet some of the needs filled by church, such as spiritual transformation or a supportive community. Yet I wonder about inter-generational relationships and commitment to a higher power and sacred text beyond ourselves. Or a sense of discovery of what the Holy Spirit is doing, revealed by how the Spirit has worked in the past (by reading scripture). I wonder about theology: faith seeking understanding. How are these needs being addressed by the “replacements”? The people who are truly atheists and agnostics are one matter, but I wonder about those who have a spirituality based on Christianity, yet are repelled by churches as they are. Might there be another way for them to form spiritual community, do theology and make a difference in the world, than through congregations?

Also, and very importantly, since mainline Protestant denominations have been mostly white and middle class, how would we make sure that is not the outcome?

How could association with faith-based non-profits provide some of the benefits of congregations, without the turn-offs? Non-profits don’t have this baggage that some churches do: bureaucracy and nostalgic traditions that slow the pace of action, ties to social policies that are behind the times (LGBTQ…), or pressure to fit a mold by presenting only your “Sunday best”.

A faith-based non-profit can foster so much, perhaps previously claimed by congregations:

  • Belonging, supporting a common cause
  • Education and mutual sharing of expertise, applying theology to complicated public conversations
  • Public voice of faith
  • Established group to mobilize when urgent response is needed
  • Inter-generational relationships
  • Caring community one can lean on in crisis?

Imagine pursuing a double bottom line for non-profits, the double goal of creating belonging and spiritual community for donors/volunteers as well as valuable services for the non-profit’s target audience. For many non-profits, this is a burden no one has the capacity to take on, but if people of faith saw it as a new way to create faith communities, while supporting the non-profit’s mission, could not everyone benefit? Still, the great need would be for commitment, and regular involvement of supporters. And for that it has to be perceived to be worth the effort, meaningful for volunteers and making a positive impact in the world. With a spiritual hunger and need for community that, for some, will not be met by congregations because of past negative experiences, a non-profit could become a new way of being “church” for a new generation.

Help, It Hurts! (written for “A Broader Public” Collegeville Institute course)

First, do no harm. I am no doctor, but as a habitual do-gooder, that part of the Hippocratic oath is key for me too. There is so much suffering in the world, and I want to help. But too often our responses leave new problems in their wake. For example: massive food aid and lifting tariffs on rice to Haiti in the 1990’s was intended to relieve the agricultural burden and boost industrialization. Instead domestic rice production collapsed and the country now cannot feed itself without imports. Or this: A non-profit provides daily free dinners to alleviate hunger in an urban neighborhood in the United States. Yet what was meant to be emergency aid, institutionalized over time, creates a chronic problem for some: health conditions associated with never cooking at home with fresh ingredients. Hunger is real; so are unemployment, poverty, obesity, and diabetes. To stop responding to the needs of our neighbors is not an option, so how do we think through the potential “problems” our responses might create, and guard against them? Here are some first steps towards help that doesn’t hurt:

1. Resist simplistic explanations

From hunger to trauma to cleaning up in the wake of natural disasters, layer upon layer of cause and effect create the dire need for help. Political, economic, and personal decisions all intertwine in how we hurt and help each other. Both of the above examples deserves its own article or even book, to examine all the factors properly. We all cause damage all the time, sometimes even when we are trying to help. This cannot be overemphasized, because laying blame affects how we respond or hesitate to do so.

2. Base our actions on requests from trustworthy sources with firsthand experience, instead of on what we are willing to give

Who are the people who have been working on the cause for a long time, with not only channels for emergency aid, but a sustainable vision for the future? Long-term community leaders must define our involvement based on what is needed, not on what we want to give. This goes for our emergency response, development work, or getting involved in protest movements.

3. Aim for sustainability and cultivate relationships

If we are interested in contributing to long-term good in other people’s lives, then we have to forge lasting relationships. We need to ask for feedback and correction, so there is mutual accountability, and respect for each others’ expertise. If history is any teacher, what we on the “giving” end need most is an education on how to use our resources well. And it is going to be difficult for us to receive that feedback outside of trusting relationships.

Given the history of some missionaries’ colonizing practices, it may surprise readers to know that these guiding principles come from my church’s approach to global mission, which they term “accompaniment.” Self-examination and confession, then trusting others to know what they need, is the beginning of our attempts to help without hurting.

Honoring Mothers Fair Trade Tea (+ Chocolate!) Party

I grew up going to mother/daughter teas and other such church functions with my mom. I proposed taking that idea and using it to lift up mothers around the world, who are better able to support their families through fair trade agriculture or handicrafts. Here was my “script” for the event, with some notes. I’d be delighted if others wanted to copy and adapt the idea!

This is a different kind of tea party. It still includes time to sip and chat, enjoy all generations playing together, and some delicious treats. But all of the tea, coffee, and cocoa we share today is certified Fair Trade, and in the midst of appreciating it, we’re going to learn about why that matters.

We are planting seeds, so that every generation knows about the value of fair trade.

By serving fair trade products, we’re honoring mothers, because products that pay fair wages to those who farm or craft them help marginalized women around the world to support their families, send their children to school, and build up their own skills.

We are showing that we have choices for everyday products we drink, chocolates with which we treat ourselves, and in clothing, accessories and gifts that we buy.

We are giving thanks for all of the women whose thousands of small actions, have added up to big differences in our lives. And we are attempting to be those agents of change in the lives of others.

Our 1st Course of the Tea Party features… fair trade Coffee!

Since coffee is frequently grown on the continent of Africa, a church member has made creamy rice banana bread to share, from her home country of Liberia in West Africa. You will also be served some other treats listed on the program on each table, and there are notes as to which items are gluten free. Lemonade is available for our younger tea partiers, and others. Once all of the tables are served, I will give a short introduction to fair trade…

Introduction to Fair Trade

We all eat foods and drink beverages produced in developing countries, in the global South. We all wear clothes and buy products made in developing countries, often without much thought to how those on the other end of the supply chain are paid, what their working conditions are, or what impact the production of what we will consume has on the environment. The truth is, not all trade is fair. The Fair Trade movement aims to bring all of these factors into view in the “developed” countries so that consumers can knowingly choose to buy fairly. It cuts out the middlemen, who shield us as consumers from knowing the true costs of low prices, to the farmers and artisans.

The World Fair Trade Organization has Ten Principles of Fair Trade, which are shown with the “program” on every table here today. For every principle, the opposite is what’s happening in the majority of industries in developing countries. For example, if the principle is “no child labor and no forced labor,” both of those deplorable practices are a reality in many industries. Through fair trade, farmers are given a fair and dependable price for their crops and artisans are given a fair price and markets for their handiwork. They gain access to fair credit that helps in creating a more sustainable livelihood. Their cooperatives, democratically-run organizations, give workers a stronger voice to negotiate fair prices, teach best practices and make sure children are protected from forced labor. The cooperatives themselves reinvest in their communities through projects such as clean water systems, disaster response and solar power. They encourage and educate about ecologically sustainable practices. I’ll share some specific examples during the fashion show.

Where do we find Fair Trade products? This is the 20th year Lutheran World Relief, a development and relief organization our church body supports, has partnered with a fair trade organization called Equal Exchange to market fair trade coffee and chocolate through our churches. It was a way to get the word about fair trade out to people who believe in caring about our neighbors, and a percentage of each of those sales went from Equal Exchange to LWR’s agricultural programs. LWR is now transitioning to direct purchasing from the farmers in their own development projects, but obviously the strong commitment to fair trade remains the same. The centerpieces on each table and handicrafts to be featured in our fashion show are mostly items ordered through SERRV, one of the first Fair Trade handicraft organizations in this country, which started in the late 1940s. But we also have a fair trade store in St. Paul, Ten Thousand Villages on Selby Avenue; BTW, Monday they’re kicking off a summer emphasis on fair trade clothing from 3 organizations: Mata Traders, Global Mamas, and Maggie’s Organics. Church member is a fellow with the Bush Foundation, and told me about a Twin Cities Hmong fair trade group that markets in the U.S. the handiwork of artisans from SE Asia (Red Green River). “Trades of Hope” markets fair trade handiwork based on house or online parties (similar to how tupperware used to be sold). Now fair trade chocolates, tea and coffee are available at grocery stores. That is all to say: “Fair trade” is becoming more widely available as an option for food, gifts and apparel, but to adopt “buy fair trade” as a value we all need lots of reminders, opportunities and reinforcement. We can remind each other: there are things to consider beyond getting a good deal at the check-out.

Note about this congregation: We serve fair trade tea and coffee during coffee hour already. If you wish to donate to that specifically, your financial contributions buy more fair trade products!

When you are finished with your course, I invite the “models” for our fashion show to join me over at the handicrafts table.

Our 2nd Course features Fair Trade Tea, and because tea is most commonly grown in parts of Asia, church member has made us wontons, and church member has made us coconut jello to go with the other refreshments.

Our fair trade fashion show is comprised almost entirely of handicrafts from SERRV (serrv.org) one of the oldest fair trade handicrafts organizations, founded in the late 1940s.

(Information and quotes shared during the fashion show were taken from SERRV’s website and catalog. I chose items that could easily be carried and displayed in a fashion show, grouped 2-4 per country. In addition to jewelry or accessories, I also ordered some décor, such as serving platters and trivets. All of these items are available for “consignment sales” from SERRV, which means we did not need to pay in advance for anything as long our congregation registered an account, but just ship back what we did not sell, and payment for what we did sell. The consignment order form has items grouped by country. Clothing is not included in the “consignment sale” category, but we did model clothing that I already owned, from SERRV. Highlighting items from a dozen countries made our fashion show last around 30 minutes.)

Excerpts from the fashion show:

Mexico and Guatemala

Teenaged church member and pre-school church member are showing you fair trade products made in Mexico and Guatemala! Teenager is wearing a tree necklace & bracelet made in Mexico, and an apron from neighboring Guatemala. Pre-schooler is showing you her turtle backpack, made in Guatemala.

The jewelry Teenager is modeling was made by Union Progresista Artesana. Lucina currently assists with packaging and jewelry assembly for UPA in Mexico and is enrolled in a new women’s project to learn jewelry-making skills. Her hope is that with the new skills she will be able to work full-time and earn a steady income. She has two teenage children to provide for on her own, as her husband migrated in search of work but has gone missing. She said, “I am a single mother and I have to give my children a better future.”

Indonesia

Mother and daughter church members are showing you fair trade handicraft items from Indonesia. Mother is wearing a pearl heart cross necklace, and scarf, and daughter is carrying two fans with traditional designs.

In many parts of Indonesia, rural families have increasingly had to migrate to find work to support their families. Pekerti, the Indonesian People’s Handicraft Foundation Marketing Service, has been working since 1975 to preserve traditional Indonesian handcrafts skills and to promote income-generating projects among the rural, enabling them to remain in their villages with their families. They have had programs that provide heath care, school scholarships, and loans. They encourage the use of raw materials from sustainably managed sources and provide information and projects on conservation. The pearl heart necklace our model is wearing was made by Pekerti.

Our 3rd Course features Mexican hot chocolate! Cocoa grows especially well in the Caribbean and Latin America. Church member has made us Mexican wedding cookies to accompany the other assorted treats.

When you are finished with your food and drinks, you are invited to take a walking tour of the other tables, as all the centerpieces are Fair Trade handicrafts owned by members of this congregation.

Coffee, tea, cocoa and most items from the fashion show today are available through a “consignment sale” arrangement with SERRV; that means that you can purchase them today at a discount if there is something that speaks to you. We will also make them available on Sunday after worship. After that, whatever remains will be sent back to SERRV. We also have a dozen SERRV catalogs, and they ship items remarkably quickly, within 3-5 days, so you would have something in time for, say, Mother’s Day if you ordered soon. Take a catalog with you if you think you would use it. Or just look up their website: serrv.org

Thank you to the servers, those who prepared the food and drinks and especially those who have run this event from the kitchen, to those who decorated, greeted, modeled in the fashion show, and who will clean up afterward.

A public photo album from the event is available at: https://www.facebook.com/leeann.machoskypomrenke/media_set?set=a.10155330504503453.1073741898.599858452&type=3

Frederick Buechner Narrative Writing Contest – Theme: Storm

I sent this memory from January 2008, to the narrative writing contest at The Christian Century in the middle of April, just after Pastor Herb passed away:

1929500_12358533452_4752_n

I could not get over it. I still haven’t gotten over it. I was traveling with Pastor Herb, who had been serving as a missionary for so long that multiple people told me “he speaks better Swahili than most Tanzanians.” Every day of that week we left the junior seminary where he was based, and headed to a remote preaching point among the Maasai people, where word would spread that we had arrived and people would walk in from all around for worship. Since Pastor Herb could only make it to each of his 113 preaching points (some with buildings, and others without) a few times a year, at each site there were baptisms, confirmations, and even once a wedding as part of the service. Local, trained evangelists tended the people’s faith in between. By this point in the week I had already witnessed Pastor Herb perform an exorcism on a woman possessed by an evil spirit, yet in my mind I held that event as really true, but really “culturally specific.” I was very glad that Alana, an American college student, was traveling with Pastor Herb for the first time this week too, so she and I could check our incredulous observations with each other. Such things didn’t happen in worship back home. But here people believed that spirits and demons were active, so they lived it out. That’s how my mind wrapped around what I had witnessed, until the storm.

Late in the week we bumped out on a rutted dirt trail while dark clouds gathered overhead. Pastor Herb was talking to his evangelist about the weather. It’s going to be really hard driving out of here if it rains hard, they were saying. Alana and I exchanged glances. When we arrived and stepped out of the jeep, it started sprinkling. People were already gathering, and although there were several small earthen homes around, this was clearly one of those times we would worship without a roof over us. The evangelists got busy registering those who were going to be baptized. In the Maasai culture, once the (male) head of a family decides they will become Christian, the whole extended family gets baptized. This was one of those times: 54 baptisms at once. I snapped a photo of the sky before we started, which was the definition of the “eye of a storm,” a bright center surrounded by dark gray cumulus clouds as far as we could see. Yet Pastor Herb was determined. He would not return here for some time, so he was going to preach everything there was to preach and baptize everyone who desired baptism. Part of the way through the baptisms, it got really windy and was raining hard, with thunder and lightning not far off. The full force of the storm was upon us.

One of the evangelists spoke into Pastor Herb’s ear. “You can go to the jeep if you like,” Pastor Herb said to us and the evangelist, without judgment. And he turned to baptize the next person; he just spoke the words louder, over the noise of the storm. We were a combination of too sheepish and too awed to go to the car, because shortly after he said that, the weather gave up. The rain started tapering off, then stopped completely. The sky was still as dark and threatening as ever, but it was as if the storm was holding its breath. I turned to Alana and whispered, “Ummm… did he just calm the storm?” “Yup,” she whispered back, as both of us kept our eyes on him. It was nearly impossible to explain it any other way. It still is. Worship ended and the meal that always awaited us began. The second treasured photo I have from that day is a picture of Alana and I grinning while eating rice and goat meat under a tree, a rainbow slicing across the dark gray sky just above us.