View From the Hammock brought to you by Purple Frog

       Thinking of my mother, who, as an immigrant, doesn't have any social contacts, but family, I want to share something about aging. My mother doesn't hear well and her mobility is limited. She doesn't drive and doesn't use the internet. Her phone conversations are short because she gets self-conscious, not hearing well. Teenagers might think that a life like that sucks!        My mother was for a while devastated, thinking her life was over. For several years she was depressed focusing on her health problems mostly until one day she found a new passion of beading. The bright colors of stones from all over the world–jade, agate, corals–started the healing. She seeks for certain patterns in her rich past as a Russian language and literature professor–a dignified woman, who always strived for perfection–and puts all she was into her necklaces, proving with every necklace she makes that she still is.        My mother can't wait to wake up to to begin beadi

         The present United Methodist structure and the vision empower UM bishops and their middle managers–district superintendents–more than they empower local churches. The DSs as the denominational middle management attempt to control a church community that is increasingly disenfranchised.

One day, I found a new passion - I decided to help my brother-in-law and my sister to clean their house from old stuff. John’s house was enormous, but he had no closet space left, collecting different things since his bachelor years. As soon as John left for work, I opened all closets. The job was not hard; I put a black trash bag next to the closet and started throwing out old plastic boxes, lids, old flower vases, and old shoes. I could hardly wait for John to come home.

      I look back at my Raytown congregation that, following my Russian tradition, gave me a blessing for the journey that just begun. I still visit some of my members in the hospitals, answering their e-mails and phone calls.  I am patiently waiting for God to show me the final destination of my transition. I am still in limbo, but I know with all my heart that one day I will understand every moment of my present context of transition as clear as I see my new plants. It is too hot for planting, and I could see how this transition is tough on them for the first two-three days, but what a joy when they start blooming, becoming healthy and joyful again! All they need is patience and watering, the rest will happen by itself. Transition sometimes is simply being.      I feel good about what I accomplished in Raytown and with Paul I recite, “I am confident of this: that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6).