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Love Letters from Rich Foss to Plow Creek - 2004

Letters from 2005

December 19, 2004 The freedom of forgiveness
December 12, 2004 I love planners and organizers
December 3, 2004  Preventing the common cold	May 16, 2004  How could the abuse happen to Iraqi prisoners?
November 7, 2004   A day in your life worthy of a holiday	May 9, 2004    How good & pleasant to be back home
October 24, 2004  Holy trouble	April 28, 2004    I want to be like Stevie
October 16, 2004   One lonesome man	April 11, 2004     The Lord popped back up
October 3, 2004   Fierce love in politics	April 4, 2004       Ordinary, amazing people
September 26, 2004  You too can be attractive	March 28, 2004    Do not speak loudly unless
September 19, 2004  It’s a relationship economy, baby	March 20, 2004     Love the one you really married
September 12, 2004  Not in the mood	March 14, 2004    Seven moments when I lean on Jesus
September 5, 2004 Watching myself	February 22, 2004   Standing close to God’s legs
August 22, 2004  Love and misery	February 15, 2004    Who’s in charge here?
August 16 2004  Disabled and called	February 9, 2004    Tha's so good
August 8, 2004  Peace in the corn project	February 1, 2004    Worship and life for a 19-year-old woman
July 18, 2004  I was the next generation	January 25, 2004    The community has a new son
July 11, 2004   My Morning Communal	January 18, 2004   Frustrated & other prayers
June 20, 2004   Compassion and what you have	January 11, 2004    Important to be unimportant
June 13, 2004     Crying with Jesus	Letters from 2003
June 6, 2004    Random thoughts	Letters from 2002

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The freedom of forgiveness    December 19, 2004

Dear folks,

“Forgive” is number 50 on U.S. News & World Report list of “Fifty Ways to Improve Your Life in 2005”, the cover story of their December 27, 2004-January 3, 2005 issue.

There is a whole move afoot in academia to study forgiveness. In fact, A Campaign for Forgiveness Research has given out over $5 million in grants to researchers studying forgiveness.

Fred Luskin, Director of the Stanford Forgiveness Project, says that “nursing a grudge raises blood pressure, depletes the immune system,” and “makes you more depressed.”

This morning in worship we prayed the Lord’s prayer: “…give us our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” Jesus seems to think that just like we need bread every day we also need regularly to forgive and be forgiven.

There’s something extremely liberating about forgiving and being forgiven.

This morning as I did the adult teaching I was aware that I had forgiven the Rehab Hospital social work department. In the first year of our marriage I spent a month in the Rehab after total knee replacement surgery. I asked the medical director to extend visiting hours for Sarah by an hour and a half. The medical director granted my request but the social work department called me on the carpet for seeking special treatment.

When I was called on the carpet all I could do was weep because I felt so misunderstood. I was desperately trying to be a good husband and the one thing I could do was to get visiting hours extended for Sarah. As my social worker reprimanded me I wept and wept.

Since then I’ve occasionally thought of the event, always with a bit of pain.

As I was preparing for the teaching I thought through the events through the eyes of the social work department. As I did so I realized they were most likely feeling pressure to enforce the hospital policies. I began to feel empathy for them. I too have been in leadership positions where I am expected to “enforce policies.”

As I felt empathy for them I realized that I had forgiven them.

What a free feeling.

Number 26 on the U.S. News & World Report list: Exercise a little: See you later. I’m going to swim at the Met. That’s another place I feel like a free man--in the pool.

Blessings, Rich

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I love planners and organizer    December 12, 2004

Dear folks,

Earlier this fall Sarah brought out my winter robe. I hung it on a hook on top of my summer robe. Now I dimly knew that wasn’t the best plan but my brain didn’t quite find the path that suggested the organized thing to do would be to put it in the dirty clothes basket.

For weeks I hung my winter robe on top of my summer robe. Then on Friday I stumbled into our room to go to bed and I realized that Sarah had removed my summer robe from under my winter robe and washed it. I had this burst of love for her planning and organizing.

Lyn Fitz planned and organized a dozen or more people into a dramatic reading and two short plays this morning for worship. I loved it, especially the three “Mary” monologues by Carol Gale, Esther Graham, and Kate Newhouse. I found myself caught up in the drama, the small candle in the darkness, of the nine months before Jesus’ birth.

And the Sunday Singers--I almost cried for the sheer beauty of the voices of six people singing of our Savior and his mother.  Rick Reha organizes the group and plans the advent music starting in July. (Ciarra Gale added to the worship when after Singers sang she high-fived her mother, as Carol came back to her seat and said, "Good job, Mama.")

Then Sarah went to have lunch with Jim and Donna Harnish. When Jim’s legs began to give out on him late last summer, he had to move to the Corner House and could no longer come to common meal.

Jim Fitz, Jim Harnish's dear friend, before he headed off to Colombia for three months of service with CPT, began organizing and planning for some regular company for Jim and Donna by folks who aren’t regularly involved with their care. He arranged with Sarah to add another list to the community schedule--people who have lunch with Jim Harnish on Sunday’s.

David Gale has been slowly working at removing the accumulation of scrap metal that accumulates around the farm in the valley.

Boo Graham is an artist with food--don’t take it from me--I’ve heard it in Tiskilwa and Princeton. Louise is the planner and organizer and together the two of them have created the beautiful little Plow Creek bakery that more and more people are discovering.

I love planners and organizers.

Good job, Jesus.

Blessings,
Rich

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Preventing the common cold    December 3, 2004
 
Dear folks,

Can loving each other in community make us healthier, even prevent the common cold?

I’ve been pondering questions like this as I’ve been reading The Status Syndrome by an English doctor and epidemiologist (one who studies diseases in populations).

Marmot quotes dozens of studies to show that how much control you have in your life and how many social connections you have the healthier you are. Yesterday I read a section in the book about an experiment with the common cold that shows the more social connections you have the less likely you are to get a cold.

An experimenter, Stephen Cohen, decide to measure the affect of social ties on preventing the common cold. He asked a group of subjects how many of the following twelve categories of people they spoke to at least once ever two weeks: spouse, parents, parents-in-law, children, other close family members, close neighbors, friends, workmates, schoolmates, fellow volunteers for charity or community work, members of social or recreational groups, and members of religious groups.

The subjects then agreed to be isolated in reasonable accommodations for five days. On the first day they let someone put a cold virus in their nose via a nose drops and then for the next fives days they came no closer than three feet to another person.

Of course, some of the subjects got a cold.

However, there was a significant difference between those who got a cold and those who didn’t.

People with few social ties, three or fewer on the list, had three times the incidence of cold compared to those with a diverse set of social relationships, six or more of the above list.*

How’s that for evidence that God created us for community.

Want few colds this winter? Connect with lots of different people at Plow Creek and beyond.

Blessings, Rich

PS. It’s been almost a month since my last letter. Uffda. Sorry.

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A day in your life worthy of a holiday    November 7, 2004

Dear folks,

Gee, but it was good to back worshipping our God with you this morning.  I am so thankful for the worship retreat and tasting the fruit of in worship this morning. May the Lord grow us so that we may bear much Holy Spirit fruit.

In the study of Esther this morning our little group asked, “What day in your life is worthy of a holiday?” On the anniversary of the day the Jews were saved from Mordecai’s plot to destroy them, they created a two-day holiday, Purim.

Leonide said that her holiday might be the day she and two other friends created a small group in Haiti, each taking turns hosting the group in their homes. The group grew from three to six to eight. They still keep in touch and support one another.

Rick said he thinks back to the evening in college when he and his hippie friends were having a long, philosophical discussion. At one point a girl turned to Rick and said, “Do you really believe that stuff in the Bible?”

“Yes, I do,” Rick said. In retrospect he sees that God took that declaration seriously and it’s shaped his life since then.

If I had to pick out one day in my life to make a holiday it would be a day honoring the April 1981 Sunday when Plow Creek laid hands on me and prayed for me to become an elder. When I was twelve I thought God was calling me to be pastor. A few years later when I became severely disabled, I gave up on the call, believing that I had heard wrong. I gave up but the Lord did not and neither did you, my people of Plow Creek.

On the same April Sunday I met with Mitch Kingsley and Anne Stewart in the afternoon to pray for all the grief of becoming disabled. I had tried so faithfully to follow the Lord as a youngster and then my life fell totally apart and I seemed to be to blame since I was not healed even though my church and I and many others prayed. Oh me of little faith. As you can imagine, that left me confused and a bit mad at God.

In the prayer time the Lord answered the longing of my heart--to know that he loved me right at the time that I became disabled and right at the time that he did not heal me. He not only loved me but he was calling me, broken body and broken spirit and all, to feed his sheep, to feed his lambs.

Now that was a reversal of fortunes in my life worthy of a holiday.

What day in your life is worthy of a holiday?

Blessings, Rich
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Holy trouble        October 24, 2004

Dear folks,

Sometimes we get ourselves into unholy trouble. For instance, a couple of months ago a conflict emerged in a PCF members meeting about appealing our taxes. One brother was working on it and our lawyer seemed to be dragging his feet. Another brother began pushing to push the lawyer more.

That’s when I got into unholy trouble. I got anxious and began to push at the two brothers, trying to get them to work out their differences on the spot.

That didn’t help matters. I got anxious and created a little unholy trouble.

Later I realized that I should have simply trusted the two brothers to work it out which is what they did. They didn’t need me to magnify the conflict by my anxiety. Eventually they ignored me and worked it out.

But if we follow Jesus we will get into holy trouble.

For instance we are sending Richard and Ruth Anne to Argentina. By doing so the Fellowship is losing $23,000 in salaries. That’s holy trouble. We in the Fellowship don’t know how the Lord will provide but we trust he is at work in our holy trouble.

Jesus was always getting into holy trouble.

Then the Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap him in his words. 16They sent their disciples to him along with the Herodians. "Teacher," they said, "we know you are a man of integrity and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren't swayed by men, because you pay no attention to who they are. 17Tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?" (Matt. 22: 15-17)

When I sensed a call to launch Evergreen Leaders Sarah said, “If you start it you’ll have employees and people will be depending on you for income.”

She was right. Those of us starting EGL are bound to get into holy trouble.

In the Fellowship we’ve been talking about inviting the next generation to join Plow Creek Fellowship. We know that in so doing we will go through lots of changes. That’s holy trouble.

What holy trouble are you getting into?

If you are following Jesus it’s just a matter of time before you’ll be in holy trouble and he’ll be standing right in the mess with you.

When I woke up this morning to face my current holy troubles I thought of what James had to say about holy trouble: “Consider it pure joy.” (James 1:2).

Blessings,
Rich
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Fierce love in politics        October 3, 2004

Dear folks,

Last Monday in the Common Building David handed me the August issue of Sojourners, telling me the article by Bill Moyer, “Democracy in the Balance,” would be the good basis for an adult teaching.

As I was rolling back to our house I thought, Oh, David, I already have so much reading to do. But on Wednesday I stuck it in my book bag when I headed off to visit Heidi and Woju for a couple days.

I did not expect to be surprised by love.

On Friday morning I read in Jeremiah 31:24:  The fierce anger of the LORD will not turn back /until he fully accomplishes / the purposes of his heart.
As I meditated on that scripture I thought: When I think of Jesus I don’t think of his fierce anger…I think of him coming in fierce love to accomplish the purposes of his heart.

Later in the day when I had a few moments I reached in my bag for something to read and pulled out the Sojourners.

Moyer’s critique of how people with money have incredible power in the current USA political environment--power that enables the rich to get richer—did not surprise me.

For instance, “in 1960, the gap between in terms of wealth between the top 20 percent and the bottom 20 percent was 30-fold. Four decades later it is 75-fold,” he said

With so much money flowing into political campaign the wealthy are benefiting tremendously. For instance the Republicans passed a bill designed to give tax credits to children of families earning as much as $309,000. The Washington Post called the action “Leave no Rich Child Behind.”

Moyer’s critique is painfully familiar.

Even his first suggestion about what to do was familiar: “Our times call out for a new politics of justice.”

And then he said something that surprised me, “But let’s do it in love.”

Not sentimental love, he added, but the kind of love Reinhold Niebuhr had in mind when he said, “Basically love means…being responsible, responsibility to our family, toward civilization, and now by the pressures of history, toward the universe of mankind.”

Then he said something that shocked me:

“When the church was young and fair, and people passed by her doors, they did not comment of the difference or the doctrine. Those stern and taciturn pagans said, “How they love one another.”

I flashed to all the angry, nasty things I’ve heard Christians on the right and left say to each other. I remember how upset and argumentative I became with my own Christian father when he talked about how terrible the Muslims are as part of his support of our government.

I had to apologize to him for my lack of responding in love.

As I look at how Christians act in the USA political scene I can’t imagine pagans saying, “How they love one another.”

Then Moyer quotes Peter who said to the first churches, “Above all things, have unfailing love for one another.” Moyer says the word “unfailing” would be more accurately rendered “intense.”

Which brought me back to Jesus coming to get things done with fierce love.

May we Christians do justice with fierce love for the poor and powerless and fierce love for each other.

And let it begin in me.

Blessings,
Rich

PS. Thanks, David.
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You too can be attractive        September 26, 2004

Dear folks,

Last Sunday in the adult study of Esther Sarah asked a question I had never considered: “Why were people attracted to Esther?”

When you look at the story her uncle Mordecai loved her so much he showed up every day outside the harem to see if she was doing.

The eunuch in charge of the harem took her under his wing and he did all he could to advance her cause. And, of course, the king chose her as his queen.

Partly people were attracted to Esther because God was planning to use her to save his people but I looked for clues in the story. She was fair, beautiful, and adopted according to the story. I assume all the girls in the harem were fair and beautiful so maybe the key difference was that Esther was adopted.

Why would being adopted make her attractive?

I happen to be married to Sarah who is fair, beautiful, and adopted. When you are adopted you don’t take people from granted. After all, if you are adopted, one or two of the most important people in your life—your parents--disappeared.

If you are adopted by a loving uncle like Mordecai you learn to trust people even after a great loss. And trusting others makes you attractive.

Who is that most of us think is attractive—the strong, healthy, competent, beautiful, intelligent, athletic, and handsome folks? But what about weaknesses? Do they help make us attractive?

I think they do.

I think we are attractive when we live freely and lovingly with the interesting combination of strengths and weaknesses God and life have given us.

Last night after I saw Sarah off on the train to Kansas to care for John and Joanna, I rolled into Taco Bell with my laptop to have a burrito and to write until the coffee house opened. I chatted a bit with the young woman who took my order. When she told me how much the order was, I realized she hadn’t charged me for my drink.

“Aren’t you going to charge me for the drink?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “you are the first person who smiled at me all day.”

You too can be attractive like a smiling old guy in a wheelchair.

Blessings,
Rich
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It’s a relationship economy, baby    September 19, 2004

Dear folks,

I keep mulling over what the friendly businessman who liked to buy flowers for his client’s secretaries said to his penny-pinching boss, “We have what we call a relationship economy.”

In worship this morning, in response to Jesus’ story of a shrewd business manager (Luke 16), I told the story of the contemporary businessman who used that phrase—relationship economy (from Jesus Life Coach, by Laurie Beth Jones, pp. 173-174).

Plow Creek Fellowship has a common purse but, more importantly, we have a relationship economy, baby.

So too does Plow Creek Mennonite Church. Yes, we all give money to our church and we have a budget and a bank account but it’s the relationship economy that makes this place work.

Yesterday morning I saw Lorie and Kora, Jim Fitz, Mark--and who knows who I didn’t see,--cleaning the upstairs East House apartment, getting it ready for Bill and Kate Newhouse and their daughter, Isa. Nobody was paid to show up. It’s a relationship economy, baby.

Sarah told me this morning that Pete called on Friday to let me know that he has more habanera sauce. He loves to make habanera sauce and he shares it with me.

Sam picked autumn olives that grow wild around here and made them into an amazingly delicious jam for last Friday night’s common meal.

It’s a relationship economy, baby.

In the late 80’s and early 90’s while John Lehman was at Reba Place he did not charge Sarah for counseling beyond what insurance paid. He and Reba gave Sarah, Plow Creek, and me an immeasurable gift. His counseling helped Sarah, which helped Sarah’s and my love for each other grow deeper, which helps me to give freely to you.

Plow Creek Fellowship bought a ticket for Sarah to board an Amtrak train for Kansas next Saturday to spend a week caring for John and Joanna Lehman. She will provide nursing care for John when he comes home from the hospital after having a total knee replacement surgery. She’ll also help Joanna who is still recovering from a fall.

It’s a relationship economy, baby.

“I tell you,” Jesus said in Luke 16, “use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”

I give thanks whenever David lets me know that one of my consulting clients had paid the Fellowship. I rejoice that the farm team picked 97 pints of raspberries on Friday and sold them all Saturday.

Why? It gives us money for making friends.

Heaven’s a relationship economy, baby, and it starts here.

Blessings,
Rich
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Not in the mood    September 12, 2004

Dear folks,

I wasn’t in the mood for worship this morning. I like to have a quiet time Sunday morning and come prepared to join with you in worshipping our incredible Lord.

I didn’t feel ready.

In my quiet time I poured out my grief about my friends’ impending divorce. My friend who is initiating the divorce seems so lost and I don’t know how to find him. The Lord spoke to me of letting my friend go but that made no sense and besides, I don’t want to let him go. It’s as if I am lost with him.

I went to worship in need.  Early in the worship we sang:


At the beginning of worship I was far off but the singing brought me closer.

Then Lynn did the children’s story, telling about the shepherd who loved Fluffy the lost lamb, and searched and searched until he found Fluffy.

Next Lynn told the children Jesus’ story of the woman who had ten coins, lost one, found it, and called people together for a party. The she showed the children a jar containing one hundred pennies.

She opened the jar, took out one penny, handed it to Kevin and asked him to hurl it through the back door into the woods behind the Common Building. He hurled it.

Now that penny is truly lost.

Just like my friend.


I went to worship feeling lost and met the One who loves the hunt, and not only the hunt, but the party afterwards.

Blessings,
Rich

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Watching myself                September 5, 2004
 
Dear folks,

Sarah and I had the sad task of talking with each of our adult children about an affair a longtime friend of the family has been having and his decision to divorce his wife.  Our children grew up with their children.

“It seems like it could happen to anybody,” Jon said the day after he heard the news.

“Being a faithful husband is one of the best gifts a man can give his children,” Hannah e-mailed me the day after she heard the news.

On Thursday I wrote each of my children my reflections on being a faithful husband. Now I want to do the same for you, my brothers and sisters at Plow Creek.

When we went through such grief at Plow Creek over involving sexual infidelity by one of our elders all of us who were here experienced so much pain. At one point I said to myself, “I only want one claim to fame as a leader—that I was always faithful to Sarah.”

St. Paul once said that someone sins, “you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted.” (Galatians 6:1)

Here’s how I watch myself lest I too commit adultery.

First, when I go through a hard time I make sure to share my ensuing emotional needs with Sarah, my sharing group, my co-elders, as well as Anne and Virgil on my three-times-a-year retreats. The stress of illness, difficulties at Plow Creek, and launching Evergreen Leaders are all hard times for me.

I didn’t start out in life as a person who shared my emotional needs. Out of the great pain of becoming disabled the Lord taught me to share openly when I go through a hard time. Gradually I have realized that opening myself to Sarah and trusted others helps make sure my emotional needs are not met through adultery.

Also, I share daily with the Lord in my quiet times. However, quiet times are no substitute for sharing with a trusted group of God’s people. I can fool myself in a quiet time.

You will notice that Sarah is first on the list of people I share with when I am going through a hard time. I have learned to tell her my troubles and to literally cry on her shoulder.

Also, I cry with others. One night this week several of us who knew the couple met to pray. I freely acknowledged that my friend’s adultery was a blow to me. After we prayed for the couple and their families, the group offered to lay hands on me and pray. As they did I was able to cry freely for the first time since we got the news.

Sarah and I go on regular dates at fast food joints where our sole purpose is to look in each others eyes, talk, admire each other, and share the ups and downs of life. What a gift to both of us.

I don’t have a lot of rules to keep myself from adultery. For instance, I don’t have a rule that I will never meet with a woman alone. But I watch myself, keeping such meetings infrequent. On a practical side, I have office hours on Sunday afternoon, times when anyone can talk to me about anything and a time when Sarah is at home also.

I notice attractive women. When I catch myself noticing other women for more than a passing moment, I know it’s time to be with Sarah. I don’t berate myself. I just make a mental note that it’s time to woo Sarah, the most beautiful, fun, desirable, honorable woman I know.

“Being a faithful husband is one of the best gifts a man can give his children,” Hannah said.

I love each one of you deeply. Being faithful spouses is one of the best gifts married elders can give to their church.  I want to give each one of you that gift.

And when I die, I hope y’all say, “He sure did love Sarah."

“And us too.”

Blessings,
Rich
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Love and misery        August 22, 2004

Dear folks,

Alex’s Russian teacher hooked him up with Elana, a Russian girl for a date. By evenings end he thought it was a horrible date since Elana seemed bored and gloomy the whole time.

The next week his Russian teacher told him Elana had a great time on the date and asked him if he was going to invite her out again. Alex was puzzled: How could this be?

After reflecting on his own cultural ideas of falling in love, and thinking about his experience of living two years in Russia, he developed a theory. Maybe falling in love for a Russian means “finding the one person on the planet who understands the misery of life as deeply and fully as you do, and then can talk to you about it.”

A little nervously, he asked his Russian teacher what she thought of his theory that American and Russians have completely different ideas about that it means to fall in love. She emphatically agreed. “Americans, they have no idea what it’s like to fall in love.  I never understand when you say, ‘He makes me laugh.’ Why is that so important--‘He makes me laugh’? Every American I’ve met, when you ask them how their relationship is, they say, ‘He makes me laugh.’ As if that’s the greatest thing in the world. What’s so great about ‘he makes me laugh’?”*

I thought about Alex’s story while having my quiet time in the Common Building this morning. Looking out the east window I worshipped the Lord and enjoyed, in the slow unfolding of dawn, the gift of this place the Lord has given us.

I like to major in joy in my relationship with the Lord.

Then I sensed the Lord prompting me to move to the other side of the room where the light was dim. There I found myself becoming Russian with the Lord. I wrote out my worries to the One who “understands the misery of life as deeply and fully” as I do and talks with me about it.

I read a brief story in Jeremiah 26 about the prophet Uziah, who, to avoid being killed by King Jehoiakim who didn’t like his prophecy, escaped to Egypt. King Jehoiakim sent men to Egypt who dragged Uziah back before king who did him in with a sword and threw his body into a commoner’s grave.

God understands how miserable life can be. And he loves us in that misery.

Sometimes when I’ve been sick I’ve called the elders to lay hands and pray for me. Sometimes I’ve asked Sarah to hold me, listen, and pray for me. Whether it’s the elders or Sarah, I often cry because it’s good to be loved, understood, and accepted in the midst of misery.

Then I went back to the east side of the room where the sunlight was streaming in and I read in Matthew 19 about Jesus blessing the children.

At lunch today Kora, a blessed child of Plow Creek, was eating watermelon including the seeds. Her mother, Lorie, said she was going to grow seeds in her tummy.

“Noooo,” Kora said.

“Why not,” Lorie asked.

“God didn’t make me that way.”

Ah, it is good to know that God loves us in darkness and light.

Blessings,
Rich

* from This American Life, “Lost In Translation”, August 21, 2004, http://www.thislife.org/.

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The following is the column that will appear Thursday in the Bureau County Republican

Disabled and called      August 16 2004

“Jesus, I want to know that you loved me right at the point I became disabled and right at the point you didn’t heal me,” I wrote in my journal in the spring of 1981.

A dozen years earlier I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. Between the ages of seventeen and twenty-three I had eight surgeries including having both hips and both knees replaced.

My church and I prayed for healing but it didn’t happen.

In 1977 my wife and I moved to Tiskilwa to become members of Plow Creek. By the 1981 I had enough trust in our small group at Plow Creek to share my story.

They listened as I told about the shock of becoming disabled, my confusion at not being healed, and various humiliations that had happened in my church, in the hospital, and at college.

One person in the group suggested a prayer time, not a prayer for healing, but for the Lord to speak to me about becoming disabled.

In a strange and divine coincidence, at the same time Plow Creek as a whole called me to be one of their pastoral elders.

One Sunday morning the congregation laid hands on me, praying God’s blessing on me as a pastoral elder. That afternoon Mitch Kingsley and Anne Stewart from my small group prayed with me about my disability.

They said a couple of simple prayers and then there was a long silence. I kept thinking, “God, I am not to blame.” Finally I said aloud, “God, I am not to blame for becoming disabled.”

More silence.

Then Anne said, “I am sensing the Lord asking, “Richard, do you love me?”

I started to cry because I didn’t think I could say it.

Anne opened the Bible and read the story of Jesus asking Peter three times, “Peter, do you love me?” I cried and cried and twice forced out weakly, “Jesus, I love you.”

Then a sentence formed in my mind that I knew was utterly true: “Jesus, you know I love you more than life and health.” Despite all that had happened since becoming disabled I had served the Lord as best I could.

“Jesus, you know I love you more than life and health,” I said aloud, passionately.

Soon the prayer time ended. When we stood up I didn’t know what had happened. It felt like getting off an intense spiritual roller coaster ride. Anne said, “In a few days the Lord will likely make clear what he did today.”

Days later I realized Jesus made it possible for me to say, “Jesus, you know I love you more than life and health.” And in giving me those words from the deepest part of myself, he loved me.

Each time that Peter managed to mutter that he liked Jesus, Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.” Now I too had an assignment, “Feed my sheep at Plow Creek.”

Jesus and I were on good terms again and I knew it was true: Jesus loved me right at the point I became disabled and right at the point he didn’t heal me.

Rich Foss

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Peace in the corn project    August 8, 2004

Dear folks,

When Sarah came home from the corn project on Thursday evening she said, “I enjoyed the corn project tonight. Usually after I put in a long day at Gateway relating to so many people, it’s hard to relate to more people at meetings. But the corn project was different. I enjoyed that.”

Once upon a time Plow Creek members meeting and sharing groups every week. Then in 1995, when we separated the church and the fellowship, creating two organizations, we set the church members meetings once every two months and the fellowship members meeting once a month.

Quite a change in frequency of meetings.

Decision-making meeting are essential to both the church and the fellowship. But living in a global village practicing the peace of Jesus is much more than decision-making meetings.

This morning we gathered as a church to worship Jesus of Nazareth, our leader who came to lay down his life to bring peace to the nations.

And to corn projects.

At the project Martin Graham, 12, struggled for awhile at being there. Finally, while cutting corn off the cob, his great work ability kicked in and he worked for an hour straight without a break.

Later in the project Lyn Fitz, who had organized the project said to Martin, “You know, Martin. You aren’t the only one who didn’t want to be here this evening. Earlier today I didn’t want to be here either.” She’d been complaining to herself for committing to lead the project when she has so many other things to do.

But both of them were part of the group Thursday night, Martin, 12, and Lyn, who turned 58 on Friday, and they were preserving the corn that all of us will enjoy at common meals this winter.

Now that’s practicing the peace of Jesus in a global village.

Blessings,
Rich
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I was the next generation    July 18, 2004

Dear folks,

When Sarah and I visited Plow Creek in March 1977 I didn’t think we would move here.

I had grown up on a farm, doing my share of the work from age ten on up. After becoming disabled, being on a farm was painful because I couldn’t do my share of the work. I knew that we were called to become part of a community but I thought we’d join Reba Place.

But in the few days we spent at Plow Creek we both felt drawn to Plow Creek. I still remember an idea that dawned on me in the Plow Creek library that March: This place isn’t as big as Reba Place; maybe I could be a leader here.

I told no one that, in the back of my mind of my mind, I could see myself as a leader here. It seemed arrogant and maybe it’d never happen.

In retrospect, it seems not arrogance so much as sensing God’s call.

Four years later the community called me to be an elder. To this day I marvel at the level of trust in me that the community showed, especially the older generation who had founded the community a decade before.

I know they opened their hands to me not simply because they trusted me but even more because they trusted the Lord.

I am a generation older than when I became an elder at Plow Creek. One of my tasks is to open my hands to the next generation, to release God’s work here to those whom God calls next.

It ain’t easy.

Jesus did it an easier way. He hung out with the disciples for three year and then said, “It’s all yours and I’ll send the Holy Spirit to help you.” Then he went away.

When I became an elder the older generation at Plow Creek didn’t go away. They’ve had to trust me deeply for the last 23 years as I, over and over, have made initiatives that wouldn’t be there way of doing it.

(Of course, they’ve also had to prod me to pay attention to things that I miss.)

Now as I’m at that stage of life where I need to be turning over things to the next generation I hope I can do it with as much grace, kindness, and acceptance that the older generation at Plow Creek has shown to me.

And I hope I can trust the Lord deeply as deeply as they have while the next generation does things quite differently than I would have.

Some of the older generation who made room for me to lead are no longer here any longer, but two couples still are.

David and Margaret, Jim and Donna, your acceptance of me as a leader from the “younger” generation still touches me deeply.

Thanks. I love you.

Blessings,
Rich
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My morning communal    July 11, 2004

Dear folks,

This morning I was in the middle of my quiet time in the stillness of the Common Building when I sensed I ought to circle the meadow, breathing, loving, being loved, and blessing.

As I left the Common Building Jim Harnish drove by on the way to spend the day with Donna. Aha, I thought, the Holy Spirit has its reasons.

I often think of Jesus as our Good Shepherd but the presence of the Holy Spirit does the day to day work at Plow Creek, prompting us to thrive as individuals and as a flock.

As Jim finished parking his car by the Corner House I pulled in front in my wheelchair.

“Good morning, Jim.”

As he inched himself out of the car he said, “Are you out for your morning constitutional?”

I smiled. “I haven’t heard that word for awhile,” I said.

“Wasn’t it Harry Truman who used that word?” he said.

“Truman took a walk in the morning and called it a morning constitutional?”

“He did.”

He slowly pulled his Sunday paper out of the car and then his walking stick. As he leaned on his walking stick, we chatted for a few minutes until it was time for him to go in.

I am glad to share life with Jim. For a few minutes we were together breathing, loving, being loved, and blessing.

And then I continued on with my morning communal.

Blessings,
Rich
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Compassion and what you have    June 20, 2004

Dear folks,

Walking with Jesus is good. A little stretching at times but good. Here’s how he stretched me this week.

Meditating on Matthew 15 I noticed that Jesus tells the disciples, "I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way."

The disciples immediately feel trapped: “Where could we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?

Where am I feeling trapped by a need?

Immediately I thought of the Evergreen Leaders $58,000 budget for this year. We’ve raised $15,000 and we have a long ways to go through workshop fees and fund raising to get to $58,000.

Then I noticed that while the disciples were feeling trapped by the need Jesus was busy being compassionate. How can I be compassionate like Jesus?

I feel compassion for people who would love to take EGL training but can’t afford it. An idea coalesced for me: Create a scholarship fund to provide scholarships for people who cannot afford to pay the full $98 per workshop.

"How many loaves do you have?" Jesus asked his trapped feeling disciples.

"Seven," they replied, "and a few small fish."

How much money does EGL have? Enough to create a brochure for a scholarship fund.

"...he took the seven loaves and the fish, and when he had given thanks, he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and they in turn to the people."

Thank you, Jesus, for the money EGL has.

"The number of those who ate was four thousand, besides women and children."

Compassion, and what you have, goes along ways in Jesus’ hands.

Blessings,
Rich
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Crying with Jesus    June 13, 2004

Dear folks,

There is a black and white drawing of Jesus in my office. His dark eyes are glistening with tears.

I don’t remember who gave me the drawing.

A chronically hopeful person, I don’t spend a lot of time looking at the tears in Jesus’ eyes. But today seems like a good day to look into Jesus’ tearful eyes.

Erin brings stories of her friends from Colombia who have no say when a groups of soldiers decide to camp on their porch, soldiers who are looking for the bodies of other soldiers who were killed by the guerillas, bodies that have long since floated down river.

And Jesus has tears in his eyes.

Last night a few of us had a prayer circle with Steve and Boo whose grandson, Jeremiah Aaron Rafter, was given up for adoption.

And Jesus has tears in his eyes.

This morning another car bomb exploded in Iraq, killing lots of Iraqis.

Jesus hangs in my office, tears in his eyes. I have found that the only way to be chronically hopeful is to regularly have tears in my eyes.

Those who plant in tears later run their fingers through a rich harvest of joy.

Blessings, Rich

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Random thoughts        June 6, 2004

Dear folks,

On Wednesday in elders meeting we prayed for Jim Foxvog because his computer had crashed, sending his plans for Sunday morning worship into oblivion . . . as we witnessed through worship this morning, the Holy Spirit moves even after computers crash.

At lunch today Anni put a little dish of chocolate at each table for dipping strawberries  . . . gave me a jolt of joy. Isn’t God good and Anni too?

Every year I am amazed and grateful for the workers he sends to help with the strawberries Kevin stopped in the office one afternoon this week . . . he had just come from the strawberry field and he was glowing . . . "I think this is really good for me," he said.

I see David’s pick-up at the office lots these days. I know he’s making sure that the income is all accounted for and workers are being paid . . . what honorable work.

As we were gathering for lunch by the picnic tables Margaret Moore darted up to Jeff and wrapped herself momentarily around his leg . . . laughed and ran off . . . isn’t it fun to have a Dad?

Jim Fitz moving into peacemaking and Gary deciding to move to Virginia has created room for Neil and Jim Foxvog to grow in the strawberry operation.

Jon’s girl friend, Devon Warwick, is flying in from Massachusetts on Thursday . . . on Saturday, Jon, Devon, Sarah, and I will all be working the first shift at the strawberry festival . . . a Plow Creek bonding ritual.

Blessings, Rich

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How could the abuse happen to Iraqi prisoners?    May 16, 2004 

Dear folks,

This week a CPT Iraq team e-mail described stories ( here and here ) they’ve heard from prisoners detained by the USA. I literally felt sick as I read some of the details of the humiliation and sexual violence done to the prisoners.

How could this happen?

I’ve heard a variety of comments. A man in the jacuzzi at the Met said the USA soldiers involved ought to get medals because the Bible says “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” [read the next verse, Matthew 5.39 -- ed. note.] On a Christian radio station I heard a man blame the “liberals” who are responsible for the lack of morality in the USA.

What do I think?

Today I read a summary of the famous Stanford Prison Experiment done in 1971. Eighteen young male volunteers agreed to be randomly divided into the roles of nine prisoners and nine guards in a mock prison set up in the basement of a building on the campus of the Stanford University.

Within a day prisoners and guards had slipped deeply into their roles. The experiment was designed to go two weeks but was cut short in six days.

“I ended the study prematurely for two reasons,” says researcher Philip Zimbardo. “First, we had learned through videotapes that the guards were escalating their abuse of prisoners in the middle of the night when they thought no researchers were watching and the experiment was "off." Their boredom had driven them to ever more pornographic and degrading abuse of the prisoners.

Prison Fellowship President Mark Earley, quoting Philip Zimbardo of the Stanford prison study, Earley says, "Prisons, 'where the balance of power [between guards and prisoners] is so unequal,' are, almost by definition, brutal places. This makes it vital for authorities to rein in the guard's worst impulses." ( http://www.ctlibrary.com/ct/2004/mayweb-only/5-10-22.0.html )

I think prisons are designed to create abuse and whether the guards are Americans or Iraqi’s, the guards are very likely to become abusive.

And I think there are always exceptions. CPT reports that a few good-hearted USA soldiers treated have detainees well. Which leads to the other reason that Zimbardo stopped the study early.

“Second,” he says, “Christina Maslach, a recent Stanford Ph.D. brought in to conduct interviews with the guards and prisoners, strongly objected when she saw our prisoners being marched on a toilet run, bags over their heads, legs chained together, hands on each other's shoulders. Filled with outrage, she said, "It's terrible what you are doing to these boys!"

“Out of 50 or more outsiders who had seen our prison, she was the only one who ever questioned its morality. Once she countered the power of the situation, however, it became clear that the study should be ended,” Zimbardo concluded. (http://www.prisonexp.org/slide-38.htm )

Structure may produce abuse and when it does, Jesus calls us to speak up and say, “It is terrible what you are doing to these little ones.”

Blessings,
Rich

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How good & pleasant to be back home     May 9, 2004

Dear folks,

How good and pleasant it is to be back home.

After being gone three weekends in a row, I drank in the sight of your faces as we worshipped together this morning.

How good and joyful it was to worship with the primary class as they danced with the streamers, the motion, color, and music filled my heart with streams of gratitude rising to the maker of such lovely children.

And for Dani and Tutuk who taught and led these little ones in the dance.

More sights and sounds from worship: Ciarra sharing what a good neighbor Lyn Fitz was, allowing her to play with toys…the footprints of the primary class on the wall from their lesson on following Jesus…the art work on the wall from Plow Creek’s first quarterly art show…the waves of silence and sound as Richard and Ruth Anne prayed…people sharing about how they share Jesus and themselves with other…

How good and pleasant it is to worship our God together.

Then we had lunch outdoors at the picnic tables for the first time this season. I think our spirits were leaping like calves released from the stall.

Lunch sights and sounds: Anni calling to her children in Estonian… Kora sitting close to Sarah , waiting for the meal to begin…tasting with thanks the first Behrens -made common lunch sandwiches…Tim ’s enthusiasm as he made Menno Haven announcements…Andy demonstrating to several of us his new flash…a group making plans to go hear Anni sing at an IVCC recital this afternoon.

And singing such a true song: How beautiful is the green earth, but what would the whole world be /  if we did not fill it with love, / if we did not fill it with love.

How good and pleasant it is to be back home.

Blessings,
Rich
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I want to be like Stevie    April 28, 2004

Dear folks,

The last two weekends I was in Florida on vacation and this weekend I’ll be in Washington, DC with Kevin at a conference for EGL.

Today my letter is a story about Stevie. Several years ago Gatorade did a commercial called ‘I want to be like Mike,” featuring people wanting to be Michael Jordan, basketball player extraordinaire.

I want to be like Stevie.

Here’s a story about Stevie published in a trucker’s magazine several years ago. It’s a little long but it’s a lot good.


I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.

But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome.

I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ"; the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table.

Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto a cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a
practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, headwaitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.

He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay."

"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK" she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as
it is."

Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do..

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie."

"Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.

Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers."

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called ten times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

"First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside.

As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother.

"There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving."

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny?

While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired.

by Don Anderson, (c) contributing writer to rpm Magazine for Truckers, published in November 1998.

Blessings,
Rich
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The Lord popped back up    April 11, 2004

Dear folks,

I like dandelions and Easter.

Our dandelions showed up today, Easter. Maybe they were here yesterday but I noticed them in our yard for the first time today.

Now I know some people don’t like dandelions. They see them as a blemish on their lawn, dig them up, and get rid of them.

But I like the tight, yellow, beauty of a dandelion head.

I like the thin, green, hollow dandelion stems, each withstanding wind and rain to hold its head high.

Jesus was a common man like a dandelion is a common flower.

And Jesus liked to hang out with people as common and precious as a dandelion--the kind of people who gathered to worship at Plow Creek this morning.

Another thing I like about dandelions, they are not only hopeful but they resurrect: mow them down one day and the next morning they pop back up, nodding their yellow heads in time to the music.

I like to see God’s people pop back up again.

Today we worshipped and had a feast to celebrate Easter. I think I’m gonna go back outside and  feast my eyes on dandelions.

The Lord popped back up. He popped back up indeed.

Blessings,
Rich
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Ordinary, amazing people    April 4, 2004

Dear folks,

A year ago, Leonide and Tutuk were among the first people I asked to be on the Evergreen Leaders board.
When I first began to consider forming a board, I naturally began to think about business, education, and church leaders, the typical people who serve on nonprofit boards.

Then one day I thought about the people Jesus called to be on his “board”—12 ordinary people. I still remember having this sensation of gulping. Could I really call ordinary people to the board?

Yes.

So I asked Leonide. ”Would I have to talk?” she said in shock. Yes, she would have to talk and I thought she could do it. I explained my vision for EGL. Then she said she would think about it.

Then I asked Tutuk. She too was surprised.

I didn’t know exactly how they would be able to contribute to the board. I simply trusted the sense that I should call them to the board and trusted that if they said yes, the Lord would use their gifts in EGL.

Both said yes.

Now it is a year later and Evergreen Leaders has just completed its second trial run workshop.

You may have noticed in worship this morning the lovely drawings of pine cones and seeds titled “listening” and the drawings of a seedling and a young tree complete with roots titled “envisioning.”

The drawings came from Tutuk who has offered her gift of art to EGL. She created the EGL logo and the drawings used to illustrate EGL’s model of helping groups thrive through listening, envisioning, and encouraging.

I laugh with joy at Leonide’s contribution. She who asked, “Will I have to talk? has been the board member recruited the most local people beyond Plow Creek to the trial run workshops.

The joy of Plow Creek and Evergreen Leader s is the same for me.

Seeing the Lord doing amazing things through ordinary people.

Blessings,
Rich
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Do not speak loudly unless                       March 28, 2004

Dear folks,

I grew up in a family of yellers. My parents had ten children and they yelled to get our attention and to make us behave.

I didn’t like all that yelling. It scared me. My brother didn’t like it either. He was fond of quoting a Native American proverb:

            Do not speak loudly unless the tepee is on fire.

When I was in college I visited my mother’s sister and for several weeks one summer. She was a yeller too. One day I suggested to her there might be a better way. “If I don’t yell,” she said, “they won’t listen to me.”

Occasionally I hear a parent speak sharply to a child at Plow Creek and I still get the old fear response I had as a kid when I was being yelled at.

Sarah was pregnant with Hannah, our oldest, when we arrived at Plow Creek in 1977. For the first time I was able to observe closely parents other than my own parent.

I saw parents quietly call their child over, get down on the level of the child, and correct the child so quietly that no one else heard.

I loved it. There was a way to be a parent without being a yeller.

So I tried to raise our kids without yelling. Sometimes I missed the mark but mostly I was able to correct them gently, firmly, and quietly.

Correcting children in a gentle voice fits with being pacifist. I know from personal experience that when your parents yell at you, you feel overpowered and afraid.

Of course, one of the reasons my parents yelled was because with ten kids there was lots of commotion going on and they wanted to be heard over the din.

Another thing when I noticed when I arrived at Plow Creek. No one had to scream, “Quiet!”

At common meals when it was time for announcements the person leading the meal didn’t bellow to be heard over the din. Rather the person raised their hand. Others noticed the raised hand, stopped talking, and raised their hand. Soon quiet gently slipped into the room.

Amazing.

Blessings,
Rich
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Seven moments when I lean on Jesus    March 14, 2004

Dear folks,

One, I lean on Jesus when people tell me some of the awful things that have happened to them. My heart isn’t big enough to hold such fear, pain, and rage. Then I remember his passion and I know that Jesus knows what it is like to be treated like.... When the conversation is done and I am alone with sorrow it sure is good to lean on Jesus.

Two, I lean on Jesus when I need a good dance partner. He’s even more optimistic than me.

Three, I lean on Jesus when my brain can think of more possibilities than it can think through.

Four, I lean on Jesus when I feel alone. Like at 4:00 a.m. when I can’t sleep and my head hurts so much that I can’t form words to pray for the people I love.  Like you.

Five, I lean on Jesus when the sunrise is utterly beautiful and I want to share it with someone.

Six, I lean on Jesus because I love Sarah so much and I want to love her, honor her, and make her smile all the days of her life but I can’t possibly meet all her needs so it sure is nice to lean on Jesus who can.

Seven, I lean on Jesus when I hit a pothole in the dark while riding my PaceSaver and slide off the seat onto the footrest and I can’t get back on the seat and I can’t ride because if I try I will fall on the ground but I get the cell phone out of my pocket that Sarah and my Fellowship brothers and sisters urged on me for just such a moment and I call over to the common building and while I wait for help to arrive I lean on Jesus and look at the stars and it is a beautiful night.

Blessings, Rich

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Standing close to God’s legs   February 22, 2004

Dear folks,

Three lessons in security. One from Erin Kindy, one from Kora Behrens, and one from a refrigerator magnet.

One morning a week and half ago Erin came out of our basement and said that she was having a hard time figuring out what to say when she goes on her speaking tour for CPT. We chatted for a little bit and soon a stream of stories began to flow. Stories about how people try to find security in Colombia during the civil war.

She will speak in the adult teaching next Sunday so we’ll hear stories.

She and Jim Fitz and other CPTers work in an area an hour up the river by boat from a large city. Generally the police and the military avoid this area because the guerrillas are there. It’s not safe for them.

Except for a couple of times when it seems like there might be a fire fight between the guerrillas, paramilitaries, or army, Erin feels safe. She mostly feels safe as she and her team visits the villages and they encounter and talk to the army, paramilitaries, or the guerrillas since CPTer’s have no guns.

While we were standing in the potluck line at Willow Springs, Kora showed me her Sunday school pictures and words.  Her verse for the day: Do not be afraid, for I am with you (Isaiah 43:5).

Three year-old Kora arrived at Plow Creek on New Year’s Eve with her parents. I’ve noticed that when she is in a new situation she stands very close to one of her parents’ legs. She stands there, soaking in the security of being close to a parent. After awhile she feels secure enough to venture away from her parents and explore the world.

Do not be afraid, for I am with you. In the mornings I stand close to the leg of God, read his book, think about how much he likes me, tell him how much I like him, soaking up the security of being close to him, and then I go take on the world.

On our refrigerator is a magnet Sarah received several years ago at a Covenant Children’s Home retreat: “What will I attempt that I know will fail unless God intervenes?”

Leonide, Tutuk, Lynn Reha, Kevin, Lorie, and others are attempting to launch Evergreen Leaders. The first workshop is less than two weeks away. I am scared. We will fail unless God intervenes. This week Erin is speaking at a luncheon at the Yale Divinity School. Boy, was she scared when she found that out. Jim Fitz is appearing on two radio interview shows to talk about peacemaking in the war in Colombia. Louise is taking the train to Kansas to deal with the violence of her childhood. Neil is planning crops to plant and he doesn’t know who all will help out with the farm this summer.

We all attempt things that we know will fail unless God intervenes.

Do not be afraid, for I am with you.

Isn’t it good to stand close to God’s legs at least once a day?

Blessings,

Rich
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Who’s in charge here?                  February 15, 2004
 
Dear folks,

In the 1980’s Larry and Jackie Smith were members at Plow Creek. Jackie’s Dad lived in the small apartment in the Corner House. He never came to worship or common meals.

While he was here he put himself in charge of mowing the meadow. One spring he bought a riding lawn mower and began mowing the meadow.

One day he told Jackie he knew who was in charge at Plow Creek--Jim Fitz and Wesley Mast. They are the leaders, he told her.

Neither Jim nor Wesley was an elder at the time.

But they were the two people who visited him regularly in his small apartment and so he was sure they were the leaders.

He was right. They were Plow Creek leaders. No one told them to go visit Jackie’s Dad. In fact, few people at Plow Creek probably even knew they visited him.

Jesus of Nazareth is the most “in charge” guy I have even known and he said to his friends, “I am among you as one who serves.”

Jackie’s Dad somehow picked up the reality of Plow Creek. He put himself in charge of mowing the meadow and it looked great.

You don’t need a title to be a leader. Plow Creek currently has three elders but we have many leaders.

At Plow Creek you can see a need, quietly put yourself in charge, and start meeting it.

Blessings,
Rich
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Tha's so good               February 9, 2004

Dear folks,

It’s been six years since Jim Harnish and others among us began to care for Donna in the Corner House apartment.

I think often of Jim’s deep love for Donna and wonder what it would be like to care for Sarah if she had Alzheimer's.

I thought of Jim and Donna again today when I read an interview on christianitytoday.com with Robertson McQuilkin.

In 1990 Robertson McQuilkin, president of Columbia Bible College and its graduate school. resigned to care for his wife, Muriel, full time. Muriel died in September 2003.

A couple years after he resigned, a young couple visited him and the man said, "Do you miss being president?"

Since I began living with rheumatoid arthritis as a teenager and was diagnosed a few years ago with a condition that can potentially lead to death through emphysema I know how fragile life is.

On the night I joined Plow Creek Wesley Mast asked me, “What if, because of your disability, you are not able to work?”

What would it be like to not be able to be an elder and work with Evergreen Leaders?

Do you miss being president? I like McQuilkin’s answer to the young man’s question: "You know, I never thought about it. But now that you asked, no, I don't. I enjoy my assignment. I like learning how to cook and garden and keep house, and taking care of my beloved."

That night after McQuilkin went to bed he began to wonder. "Lord, he prayed, “I never asked you why. I'm apt to ask you, 'Why not me?' Everybody is suffering; everybody has loss and heartache. It's part of our human, fallen condition. So you know I don't ask why. It's your business; you're the one in charge. But, if a coach puts his player on the bench, he must not need him in the game. And you don't have to tell me why you don't need me in the game. But sometime, if you'd like to, I'd much appreciate it."

Then he went to sleep.

The next day, he and Muriel went for their usual walk. She could still walk at the time even though she was wobbly. Robertson held her hand to balance her. He heard a shuffling noise behind him.

He looked back and there was a local derelict. He looked Robertson and Muriel up and down. And then he said, "Tha's good—tha's real good. I like that." And then he wandered off, mumbling, "Tha's so good."

Later it hit Robertson: "Lord, could you speak to me through a half-inebriated voice of an old derelict? You did, and if you say it's good, that's all I needed to hear."

Blessings,
Rich
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Worship and life for a 19-year-old woman     February 1, 2004

Dear folks,

Recently I’ve been thinking about a young lady who is alive because her mother worshipped at Plow Creek.

Have you ever wondered what the Lord is doing as we gather at the common building to worship him on Sunday mornings?

Besides enjoying our praises he is also loving us and teaching us how to choose life.

In the early 1980’s a single mother started worshipping at Plow Creek along with her 14-year old daughter and ten-year old son.

Within a year the fourteen-year-old was pregnant. Her boyfriend wanted her to have an abortion. Sarah, Margaret, and I met with mother and daughter as this frightened young girl tried to figure out what to do. We explored the options of her keeping the baby and giving it up for adoption.

She made an appointment to have an abortion on a Monday.

The day before the appointment she skipped worship.

While she was avoiding worship she began thinking about a song from Plow Creek’s Hosanna book. Over and over again the song went through her head, leading her to decide not to have the abortion.

Eventually she decided to give up the baby for adoption, deciding that two parents could give her daughter a better life.

It was a hard decision. Two days after she gave birth to a lovely little girl the grandmother, Sarah, Margaret, and I sat with this fourteen-year-old mother in a Peoria hospital as she listened to the social worker prepare her to sign the adoption papers. All of us had tears flowing as she signed the papers.

Now it is almost 20 years since a 14-year-old mother-to-be skipped Plow Creek worship, remembered a worship song, and chose life for a baby who is now a 19-year-old young woman.

Blessings,
Rich
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The community has a new son      January 25, 2004
Dear folks,

After common lunch today Margaret Gale was holding Joe Begly, born January 1.

Last Sunday and today he was held by woman after woman during worship, the teaching, and after lunch. I can imagine a little leap in Plow Creek hearts: the community has a new son.

When our son Jon was born in an upstairs Alpha house bedroom around 9:30 p.m. July 14, 1983, someone called over to the common building where members’ meeting was in progress. David Gale took the call and returned to members meeting and announced, “The community has a new son.”

It is such a wonderful thing to belong to a family, to belong to a community.

Earlier this summer at Hannah and Donny's wedding in Elkhart, we met lots of people, many of whom we did not know. When someone from Plow Creek came through the door my heart would give a little leap. These are my people.

When Jeff and Anni Moore, who had been at Plow Creek a little over six months, came through the door I almost burst into tears. I was so touched that the newest of my people had come to the wedding.

It is so good to belong and Jesus makes it possible.

A few days ago I read a brief story in Matthew 9 about Jesus crossing a lake in a boat and landing near a graveyard.

For the first time it occurred to me that Jesus had heard rumors of the two screaming demoniacs who lived in the graveyard.

He had his friends row him across the lake to the graveyard. When the demoniacs came out screaming at him, he cast out the demons and his community had two new sons.

I can just imagine him spotting them in a crowd a few months later and his heart giving a little leap.

Blessings,
Rich