Rhythms. Our recent Sunday morning messages have been centered in how the good news of Jesus is meant to be shared rhythms of friendship and blessing. In “routine exchanges between friends and neighbors.” Who Is the Best? Jesus was the best at doing this. He started with prayer. He intentionally listened and people were heard, known, and loved. He was always up for a good dinner party with friends and neighbors. He laid down his crown and put on an apron day in and day out while he walked this planet. And he was the best at sharing good news – whether tangibly or in word.

Carl and I were at the Orlando Airport ready to board our plane for our adventure to the Grand Canyon. It was bustling, people everywhere all around, standing, some sitting on the floor and all eager to get going! There was a dad, 2 moms and 2 toddlers next to us, and it was quite a scene! The adults were all glued to their phones, while the children were running around out of control, trying to open the emergency doors at our gate, climbing into the baggage carts, and screaming – parents didn’t seem to notice or care. Lucky the kids were still around when it was time to board! Then, the announcement came…Flight to Chicago is delayed due to weather. UGH! Three hours later we took off, and I thought: 1. Please may I NOT be sitting by this family on the plane, and, 2. If this is a preview of how our trip is going to go, perhaps we should go home now! Well, glad we kept on going! We had a great trip to the Grand Canyon via Chicago, then on to Amtrak, and our destination was the Grand Canyon – 32 hours on the train! Along with stunning scenery, we met some interesting folk, who each gave us a gift in sharing a story; allowing us a glimpse of God at work in His children. Here are just a few of the stories we heard last week…

When I was a young mom in my late 20’s, I was a church attender, but not involved in anything but my presence each week. My son, Ian, was an infant and we frequented the nursery and a church pew. One day, out of the blue, I received a phone call at work. Fr. Andy, our Assistant Priest, wanted to meet me for lunch to discuss a problem. Curiously, I said “Okay.”

I am a nervous talker. If there is an uncomfortable moment, a dramatic pause, a conversational lull, you can count on me to fill in the gap with chatter. Once I was given a massage gift card by a relative. During the massage, I was so uncomfortable being touched by a stranger that I talked through the whole experience. 60 minutes of my incessant talking. It was awkward, not relaxing. For me, silence is a hostile stranger, not a friend. So these words slap me on the hand: "Saying nothing sometimes says the most." -Emily Dickinson "A fool is known by his speech and a wise man by his silence." -Pythagoras "The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly-timed pause." - Mark Twain If I want to love my neighbor by listening to them, I have to let silence do its work.

Barb and I were packing for a few days at a beach. So when we reached the end of the road or destination, we figured a T-shirt, bathing suit, and flip flops was about all we needed. Our dog, Sammy, even less, a water bowl and food bowl. And I packed my newly purchased book, Chess For Dummies. We, along with several others at New Covenant Church, have been mentoring at Orange County Academy in Bithlo on Thursday mornings. Erik, my 11-year-old mentee, clobbered me in a game of chess this past week. Hence, the beach reading material. (Barb’s brother, Walter, was an honest to goodness for real chess master, and made a living playing Backgammon. I would love to have him as a coach but he’s now with the Lord). Sad But True Story Here’s a sad, but too true story, I’d say parable, from Annie Dillard’s essay, Teaching a Stone to Talk. She tells of the ill-fated Franklin expedition to the Arctic in 1845. “The odyssey was a turning point in the arctic exploration because of its well-publicized failure. The preparations were more suitable for the Royal Navy officer’s club in England than for the frigid Arctic. The explorers made room on their ships for a large library, a hand-organ, china place settings, cut glass wine goblets, and sterling silver flatware instead of additional coal for their steam engines.

In early 2020, two months before I ever heard the word "coronavirus," I stopped at a convenience store near my house in LaGrange, Georgia, to fill up my gas tank. When I went inside to grab a few items, I noticed the clerk had a thick Indian accent. "What part of India are you from?" I asked. The man seemed surprised that I knew his ethnicity. He asked: "You know India?"

What do you associate with summer? Here in Florida, we get to do certain summer activities year round, like go to the beach or barbecue. I do go to the beach year round, but I only go in the water in the summer! I hate cold water. One of my favorite things about the summer: the fruit. When the watermelons go deep, deep on sale, my heart skips a beat. It is my favorite fruit by far. When I was pregnant with my third child, I cut up an entire watermelon, propped the bowl up on my swollen belly, and ate the entire thing while I watched So You Think You Can Dance. Ah, summer memories… This year New Covenant has a new way to launch into summer. It involves looking up and looking out.

Did you grow up on Sesame Street like I did? Then perhaps you too know the song: Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day It’s an outdated song because we don’t meet the people in our neighborhood each day. At least I don’t. I live in Winter Springs Village. It has green spaces, a community pool and mailbox area, and front porches on every house. My family has the smaller sized home—a bungalow—and our houses sits on a zero lot line. That means I can almost reach out and touch my neighbor’s house. And I still don’t know my neighbors. We live in an age of looking down at our phones, electric garage door openers, and minding our own business. Gone is the neighborhood economy (“May I borrow X?”) and the front porch leisure while kids play on the sidewalk. With the pandemic, talking to strangers is more than odd—it’s hazardous. Is this a problem? Not for some, but it is for me. Because God tells me to love my neighbor.

Admit it....sometimes we see something, make an assessment, and judge... in a few seconds...sometimes harshly. I know I do it, subconsciously and sometimes blatantly outright. You know what I mean–like, when I was a teenager and saw a really hot guy. I automatically assumed he was probably very cool in every other way as well; I would size up someone based on what I could see on the outside. I also believed others would decide what they thought of me by my clothes, whether I was fat, or even by my hair. As an adult, perhaps by my car, my home, my job, my family, my education...still my hair! You can put anything in here....I know you must have at least one thing you have judged people on, or feel you have been sized up by. Well, there is a time still sharp in my mind when I made some judgments and so many assumptions, and boy, did God get me!

“And Who is my neighbor?” WHY DOES HE DO IT? Two days a week, our trash goes out to the side of the road. On one of those days the recyclable containers are added. Once the cans are out, they are forgotten, even if the big noisy collection truck is heard. Later in the day, the emptied cans appear near our garage. Who brings them up? It has to be one of our neighbors.