AuthorRev. Claire Matheny

3.30.20 Trapped

The groundhog ….with the golf course nearby it always makes us feel very Caddyshack when we complain about this cute creature. Issue is, he can be doing some real unfortunate damage underground with our foundation.

So the critter crew (they’ve been deemed essential they tell me), came and set a trap out for him today. And they got him a couple of hours later! We returned from our neighborhood bike ride. The kids yelled out. 

Truth of the matter, I didn’t wanted to get too close. I feel bad about it. I even wonder how he is doing out there tonight in the little cage. I didn’t even want to get too close for a picture in order to offer some dignity? They’ll be coming tomorrow to take him. I’ve always felt bad about the prospect of him being parted from his home and natural rhythm.

My empathy probably lies with him tonight, too, as we remain somewhat stranded. All of Maryland is now on strict stay at home restrictions. We’ve been home except for closeby walks and bike rides. I did the one tiring grocery run last week. We’re all getting a bit cagey at times.

The letter of the day was “T” at my house as we learn about trains, so the trapping is appropriate–as well as tunnels and trash trucks and our discussion about the conservative use of toilet paper. And tantrums, well just the one when my son was displeased with the amount of honey on his toast. Terrible!

But there were many terrific elements. I got to meet a mom as we shouted to one another across the creek. I sat and snacked with my kids in front of our old mandela as they spruced it up again with fallen forsythia petals from the sidewalk. We took in the absolute beauty of brilliant sunshine and warm weather.

My daughter and I rocked out to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” this afternoon on the deck. And my son kicked off the night dance party by telling Alexa to play “Soul Man.” Boy, is he really getting to where he can groove! We’re taking it all in friends, and sending out two wishes: for your assurance in these tough times, and for the tender care for all those facing illness today.

3.29.20 Weekend Artistry

It was a full weekend with worship at church going live for the first time. What a gift to see so many faces!

The kids put on their Pete the Cat Cupcake production for our family online complete with baking (And also complete with my son clocking my daughter with a bean bag chair!).

We biked to the Sacred Garden where Saucer Magnolia blossoms abounding. My daughter became enthralled with creating a chalking pattern that church friends later saw and texted about.

On Friday, we had collected cans at a distance for Maryland Food Bank from our neighbors and dropped it at the church. Then Frank from the church delivered 260 pounds of food from the community. I’ve been talking to my daughter about what it means to be food insecure and the importance of trying to assist with food and other resources in this time.

She saw that the balloon on our lampost that had alerted folks to the food drop off point had deflated. She got our her little sketch pad and drew the balloon once again inflated. “Here,” she offered with excitement, “now it can share more joy!”

3.25.20 Lofty Goals

At my house, we are losing track of the days. The rainy days are particularly challenging. When we see the sun, we try to soak it in, convinced that a little Vitamin E can save us. Yesterday was miles better than Monday. Today was a few steps back. I have my kids involved in a long term project that will culminate in our putting on a play for their toddler cousin via ZOOM, and making cupcakes. Thanks to the book character Pete the Cat, some paper, and wooden sticks, we’ve got an illustrious game plan worked up.

Desperate times call for elaborate schemes. What are your grand schemes this week? Have you given yourself over to some project at home that you had put off? Are you trying to tackle a huge stack of books that had collected dust at your night stand? Did you receive news of a month longer at home and start plotting for how this time would be different, or would be worthwhile in some tangible way, or would help you to reach some big goal or zen like mountain…? I say, shoot for the stars.

In our little world where imagination is a must with the kids, we proceed like our actions and dreams can have a big impact. I try to believe that a morning that starts with rain can nonetheless lead to fun discoveries. Even with headaches. I’m trying to  balance the uncertainty of this moment as my kids make sense of these new and challenging times in our makeshift classroom. I need hope as I field work calls and emails remaining in close touch with my congregation.

I like to think that I am not half as bad a mom as I feel in the raw moments.  Thank goodness exhausting weeks will culminate with cupcake parties. I like to think that balloons and any bobbing sign of abundance will be welcome to remind us all of what day it is one day at a time. May any joy we can muster for the universe find those most hurting and lonely.

We dare to believe that little sun goes a long way. Crayons and tape can shift the choppy course of any afternoon. We need lofty goals that materialize now more than ever–the loftiest of which is that by staying home we indeed can make a big difference.

3.23.20 Showing Up

“I am the boss and say I get more banana bread!”

This was just one of the gems from my 3 year old son yelled today. He had a tough day all around and thereby, we all did! The rain here in Columbia didn’t help as we headed into a the second socially distant week. I’ve heard from several folks that today was hard, and I believe it.

I understand the difficulty by the personal stresses here at the house and the communal stresses of a community trying to figure out how to live as church virtually. I don’t know it firsthand, but I hear the strains from health care workers and can only imagine the tremendous stresses of those sick and dying, as well as those with tremendous immediate financial emergencies.

I think it is important to post on such days–when things feel particularly heavy. It is a reminder that the call to joy is not just a call that comes at the natural moments when things seem smooth. The discipline of seeking joy each day means including the nearly impossible moments when cynicism, fatigue, and heartache dominate.

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I consider joy especially now when it doesn’t make social sense and isn’t possible with my parenting to stand on the corner waving to traffic.

What it means to show up for joy in this time?

I don’t know. Living into joy seems easier when I can work with my kids to spell out “joy” with sticks and flowers on a walking path. I’ll keep trying on the soggy days like this one when it’s the last thing that my heart thinks it wants.

Joy often doesn’t present as a broad smile. Sometimes she sneaks up on a ZOOM meeting for stressed parents (as she did tonight) and laughs her way in. Or she looks like my precocious little boy comandeering my hiking boots and trudging them into the kitchen.

How about we let joy have the final say, even at the end of our sufferings: “I’m the boss! There will be more joy!” Hoping to show up tomorrow to whatever energy awaits..praying for you the same.

My favorite quote from Henri J.M. Nouwen: “Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.” 

3.20.20 Letting Go While Also Holding On

We are thankful for my son’s school who had virtual circle time this morning on ZOOM so he could see all of his classmates. His teachers have been giving us good “home”work to share, including yesterday’s  nature mandela. Today, we headed out to make some moveable word art. Here’s our “joy” for today. We also collected rocks to serve as our Scribble Stones. Here are our masterpieces pictured with a coronavirus headline.

I relaxed into today–because it’s Friday? Because I am becoming a more flexible mom? A more easy-going person? Hmm. There was less of a schedule knowing we all needed to exhale a bit after many intensive days being the schoolhouse. Don’t worry,  I wasn’t a cucumber. I may have cussed in the garage and lost it when I couldn’t get my bike tires pumped.

I biked the kids in our three-balloon carriage past the waving corner at Little Patuxent and over to Vantage Point. While biking, we saw the church Sunday School Assistant. She was out to get some fresh air. We then saw the kids’ Sunday School teacher also out and about. How good it was for the kids to connect with, even from a distance, these two women who have showered such love on my children.

In the church Sacred Garden, our chalk masterpieces had melted from earlier in the week. So, we shared a bit more. My daughter got really into the foot stones that surround the pond. She was so into her work– determined to pass on uplifting messages. My son was in motion make circles, “Gotta take my run!”

And then “10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1,” I gave my kids a countdown as we neared our last turn to head down the hill for our street. How glorious as we all sailed down with sounds of glee. I felt such a release–the balmy wind and the sense of letting go into the moment (don’t worry, I also held onto the handlebars!). That is what I have been trying to do. Let go into the moment. And that is why, I looped the block and we did the descent again!

I must have told my son ten times today that I love him as I snuck a kiss on the cheek. “Me, too,” he would say back–which kind of sounds like he also loves himself (which, don’t worry he definitely does), but it was right back at me and I took it in in a deep breath kind of way. How are you letting go into this wild days? Have you taken a joy ride?

3.19.20 Light in the Tunnel

A brief post for a long day. Puddles. Big ones. Little boots deep in water. Walking through the tunnel toward the light. Light is still shining into the tunnel, too, as we walk ahead in these times. A lovely nature mandela. Joy finds a way.

3.18.20 Hope Springs Eternal

I didn’t know how glad I would be that we live by a golf course. Especially with the golf course closed, there are paths and stretches of open green space. My kids can take a nature walk and romp in our neighborhood without coming across many folks. I went on stretches of paths today I have not in my 21 months of living here.

Beautiful forsythia surprised us.

We also took a bike ride. I wanted to check on the church. That is something we pastors have a hard time not doing. I didn’t go into the building, but I took my kids by bike carriage to our Sacred Garden. I offered up some prayerful messages in chalk in case there were some dogwalkers that would be passing through.

When my son saw the statue of Libby Rouse and her dog over by our pond, he stopped and crouched pensively. He pointed over: “There’s a dog with her.” We’ve been learning about dogs this week and I was struck by his thoughtful consideration as if this was the first time he noticed the marble canine despite countless times playing in the garden.

My daughter took to chalking–adding her flourishes to my words and copying her own along with balloon squiggles and hearts.

On the way back after crossing near my waving corner, I saw one of the neighbors I have befriended through the season of balloon pastoring. “Hey!” We exchanged greetings and introduced him to the kids as they sat distanced in their little carrier. I wished him well as he headed to work.

I then looked up to see the man and car that had in the past offered me the middle finger. We didn’t look face-to-face, but I saw him see me and the carriage. Close-up today he didn’t seem so angry.

Funny, because there seems to be a lot of intense emotion all around. I know I myself have spurts of anger that come out during home school stretches. Sometimes it isn’t raising my voice so much as complaining or having unreasonable expectations of my little ones navigating all of these changes. I pray for patience, for guidance as I live into a new role. Pastoring and parenting in pandemic. Day 3 in the books.

May the photo messages of the sidewalk reach you in your sequestering: “Hope Springs Eternal.”–Alexander Pope

It’s supposed to rain tonight and I fully expect that our sentiments will be swept away. But that doesn’t mean we don’t keep sending our joy unto the world. For we all so need it…

3.17.20 A St. Patrick’s To Remember

I hope that one day my kids will be saying, “Remember that awesome St. Patrick’s we celebrated at home together?”

May they remember the green scones with green sprinkles, the shamrocks all lined up with string, the shiny green ribbons in my daughter’s hair, the green balloons we attached to their bike riding carriage, and the doing an Irish jig along with Alexa before bath. Schwoo.

May they give thanks for the hour video call with my mother-in-law vet as we continued our learning about dogs. May they remember the long stretches with their parents–more time to play games, and have giggles and explore new wonders.

May they have less memory of the stressed out look their parents exhange, the frazzled and strained moments, the constant sibling rivalry…Day 2 into isolation in the books.

Meanwhile, my church community is plotting some creative ways of being in the time ahead. May signs of life break forth and make their way into our homes and immediate neighborhoods.

As I continue to hear long projections of our socially distanced season, I ask for peace. I lift up continually those most directly in harms’ way right now. I find myself simultaneously wishing I could do so much more as a pastor, and also working hard into the moments that I do have for ZOOM, emails, calls, etc.

Here, on balloonpastor I lay claim to the joy I wish to see and experience in the world– even as we also recognize the suffering and take on necessary measures. So, my world, as yours, has gotten smaller in many respects…but don’t you also feel the ways in which it has expanded as we try to live in solidarity with the health of all?

Somehow, I can do a jig and keep an eye on the end of the rainbow with the deep hopes that our homebound realities mean lives saved. This is what I hope to tell my children one day when we recall the St. Patrick’s of 2020.

*Also, I give thanks for my forebearers who arrived from northern Ireland for indenturted labor (facing all kinds of exposure to any manor of ninteteenth century illness) and worked the railroads before settling in Mississippi.

3.12.20 A Video as We Social Distance for Pandemic

A video post-corner time Thursday, March 12, is below.

I’ll be continuing to post from on this blog  where I will be with my kids at home for the next weeks. We are committed to finding joy with balloons each day as we make it through this time. Be safe and be well, friends! Prayers remain with you, this community, and the world at large as we adapt with the changing landscape. You are not alone.