February 13, 2005
First Sunday of Lent

Women’s Service 2005

Women’s Week in the UCC

Women’s week is set aside to recognize the gifts of all women in the church, to celebrate what God has done, and to help women focus on a vision of their role in the future. Celebrating the gifts of women recognizes that all women contribute to the powerful and precious pattern which makes up the whole body of Christ. In our church, several women plan a Sunday Service. We also honor one or more women as our “Woman of the Year” ~ a tradition that was begun in 1976.

Eloise Boyle

You can be anything you want to be! If you were a girl growing up here in the United States in the late 1960’s and 1970’s, chances are you heard these words. We could be ballerinas yesterday, fire fighters today and astrophysicists tomorrow. The world of a girl has changed an awful lot in the past couple of decades. Girls are wondrous creatures. They begin to nurture and be empathetic through imaginary play, they learn leadership and practical life skills through organizations like the Girl Scouts, they gain artistic expression from dance school, art classes and drama teachers. These days their potential is limitless. But the message that we can be anything we want doesn’t always come with the instruction or guidance as to how, exactly, we can achieve that goal. But girls need, more than ever, mentors and sages to help them develop. Helen Hayes, at age 73, said, “The hardest years in life are between ten and seventy.” I guess she’s right, when we consider all the conflicting demands on a young girl’s and teenager’s life: there are raging hormonal changes, peer pressure, school requirements, societal and family demands, pleas from all over the world for assistance. How do they pick their way through all of this? One place they should be assured of assistance is their church.

The well-known passage from the Gospel of Mark in which Jesus blesses the little children begins (in the New International Version):

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have Him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, He was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them,

And here we as a church community receive the order directly from Christ to bring the children into our fold. There are so many things we already do as a community of God to provide the instruction and guidance that our girls need. We worship together with them, and allow them to see the wonder and love of the Christian service. We study the scriptures with them, as we do in Sunday school, and allow them to explore the essential and often complex questions and issues raised in the two testaments. We nurture them. This we do every week, with a smile, a gentle touch, a kind word, our genuine interest in what concerns them. We teach them through our examples. We develop in them a sense of justice and true Christian living through our outreach and charity work. By helping those whose situations may be radically different from ours, we teach them to respect and celebrate diversity. Our church leaders and elders share their stories with the children, so that they may learn what has been and what might be. We teach them the value of education, and encourage them to think critically. We must strive not only to teach, however, but also to listen to the children, for they have much to teach us. As Jesus said next in the lines from Mark:

…for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

What attributes of children did Jesus have in mind when he told us to enter the kingdom of God as a child? I’d like to think that he is implying that the capacity of children to be tender, to be receptive to love and to love – unconditionally – is the essence of what’s required to enter heaven. And this is indeed a very nice definition of heaven.

Our womanhood is celebrated in our faith, in the choice we have made to live our lives as Christians. I think there is no better call to that than Micah’s, which we heard a few weeks ago: “To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God.”

Through our actions, through our examples, we teach the children every moment we are with them.

And He took the children in his arms, put His hands on them and blessed them.

Lisa Granat

I’d like to start by sharing a story I received by e-mail. I wish the author had signed her name, because it has become a favorite of mine, and I’d like to give her credit. It’s called, “Just a day in the life.”

One day a man comes home from work to find total mayhem at home. The kids were outside still in their pajamas, playing in the mud and muck. There were empty food boxes and wrappers all around. As he proceeded into the house, he found an even bigger mess. Dishes on the counter, dog food spilled on the floor, a broken glass under the table, and a small pile of sand by the back door. The family room was strewn with toys and various articles of clothing, and a lamp had been knocked over.

He headed up the stairs, stepping over toys, to look for his wife. He was becoming worried that she may be ill, or that something had happened to her. He found her in the bedroom, still in bed with her pajamas on, reading a book.

She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked, “What happened here today?” She again smiled and answered, “You know every day when you come home from work and ask me what I did today?” “Yes,” was his reply. She answered, “Well, today I didn’t do it!”

Possibly the most all-consuming phase of life for many women is motherhood. I think it is like being Smokey the Bear in southern California in August: You put out one fire, and you turn around to find three more. As soon as you figure out how to parent kids in a given stage, they move to the next one. And then, if you’ve done your job properly, you’re suddenly unemployed, or more accurately, you’re moved from a hands-on to a consulting position. And you never stop worrying, ever. You start worrying when you get pregnant, and you stop when you die. I think.

To me, a mother’s love is a lot like God’s love. We love the real person inside, not the outward appearance. We want what’s best for them, even if it’s not what’s best for us. We’d rather be in pain ourselves than watch them in pain. We want our children to be happy and productive, and to use their gifts to make the world a better place. We want our children to get along with each other, and have respect for themselves and each other. We want them to be able to come to us with their problems, yet be able to solve most of them themselves. And we want them to know we love them, no matter how old they get, no matter how many mistakes they make, no matter how much they may push us away, no matter what. We just wait, semi-patiently, for them to need us again.

Sue Selmer

Years ago, during an interview with Bill Moyers, Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison spoke about the incredible difficulties and dangers faced by her grandmothers and great grandmothers, and how these women overcame them to live the best and most faithful lives possible. Clearly in awe of what they were able to do under the most trying of circumstances, Morrison said, “These women walked on water!

When I think of how my grandmothers met life’s circumstances with courage and determination, working to overcome setbacks and keep their families together against all odds, it makes it hard to complain about modern-day difficulties. The tragic losses and economic hardships they experienced did not defeat them, but from my perspective seemed to make them stronger, more independent and self- sufficient. They remained strong in their faith throughout their lives, and provided good examples for me in living my life.

The grandmothers of this church have also experienced a daunting list of obstacles, tragedies, losses, and challenges, but they too remain faithful and joyful, strengthening the resolve of those of us who look to them for examples of how to live a faithful life. I have grown up with them always being here. When I was in grade school, Ruth Wiesen was one of my Sunday school teachers. When I was in high school, Margaret Kennedy was our youth group advisor and leader. When I graduated from high school, Edith Osborn gave me this “Little Book of Prayers” as a graduation present. To me it does feel like an extended family here.

I once asked a friend about his early church connections. He had been brought up in a mainline Protestant church, but left it when he was a teenager. He said he quit going because there were too few people his young age, and too many old people. We’ve heard similar reasons from some of the youth and young adults who have left our church. In a way I feel sorry for them, in that they didn’t connect with the elders who they could learn from. My view is, there better be lots of grandmothers and grandfathers in my church, because that teaches me that faith grows stronger through life’s journey, not weaker because of what happens along the way.

Twelve years ago I attended a three-day writing workshop called “The Spirit of Native American Writing,” which was taught by three Native American authors. We considered such themes as how living in the Pacific Northwest shapes our writing and thinking, and how personally involved we are with our local landscape. It was an educational experience, including the perspective of being in the minority. Most of the participants were native Americans (they actually preferred to be called Indians), and some of them made it clear that they barely tolerated the presence of us few white folks. The leaders, however, were helpful and friendly to all participants. They were especially mindful of a six-year-old Indian girl, whose mother had no other child care options and had brought her to this all-adult class.

The traditional respect that Indians have for both their young and their elders was quite evident here. This little girl did not complain about anything, much less the fact that she had no one her age to play with. She attended our sessions and gatherings, and listened to everything. Later, in readings of our work, two lines that this girl wrote were so clear and evocative, the rest of us wished we could see things again as a child sees them. In our closing gathering, the lead instructor removed the story-teller bandanna from his own head, and tied it around the neck of this beautiful little girl, saying that some day she would become a wise and respected elder of her people. We could tell that she understood the importance of this ritual, as she sat still and solemn. It was a moving ceremony, acknowledging the progression of wisdom, memory, and understanding from one generation to another.

Native cultures have traditionally held their grandparents in high esteem, for their accumulated wisdom and knowledge. On the walls of the Makah Museum in Neah Bay are photographs of eight tribal grandmothers who are honored and respected in their community for their artistic talents and traditional basket-making skills. Their work continues, and passes on, traditional practices that unify and perpetuate tribe and community identity. We are short-changing ourselves, and our church family grandmothers, if we do not also celebrate and learn from them. If our younger generations today associate only with each other, how will the sharing and transferring happen?

The sharing of elder tales in this church several years ago was one way of recognizing and honoring the reservoir of wisdom and experience we have here. It’s too bad that we don’t have written transcripts of these oral presentations, so that they could remain in our church life and memory. Sometimes it seems like our elders don’t see their own stories as anything exceptional. People they knew were, and are, dealing with the same life events they are, and many of these are potentially devastating. Our grandmothers here, far from being defeated, offer a fullness of joy, friendship, love, and generosity that continually amazes, inspires, and delights me.

I’d like to conclude by reading from the “Little Book of Prayers.” This prayer is credited to “A Mother Superior who wishes to be anonymous”:

Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older, and will some day be old.
Keep me from getting talkative, and particularly from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to try to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details—give me wings to get to the point.
I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of others’ pains. Help me to endure them with patience.
But seal my lips on my own aches and pains—they are increasing and my love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonable sweet; I do not want to be a saint—some of them are so hard to live with--but a sour old woman is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody; helpful, but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all—but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Joanne Barrie Lynn

The stages of a woman’s life—girl, mother, elder—don’t magically transform from one stage to the next. We go through transitons, sometimes slowly, sometimes too fast to let us think. The transitions from preteen to puberty, from mother to empty nester, from middle age to elderhood, are disorienting, but necessary for our spiritual growth. Just as butterflies have to struggle to get out of the cocoon, we must wrestle with the changes in our lives. Like butterflies, the exertion itself is necessary for flight. The wrestling itself grows the muscles of our wings.

The spiritual growth that happens in a transitional stage of life is a wrestling match with God. In my own particular transitions I demand answers from God, usually why? or why not? The answers I get are sometimes a flash of inspiration, but they come after the struggle to understand what God calls me to do. I can’t take flight without the muscle I gain by breaking free of whatever keeps me contained.

I am grateful, in this congregation, for the space and privacy we give each other to wrestle alone with God, without anyone butting in and telling us what to believe, or when to pray, or how to act. And I am grateful that, along with this privacy, we come together once a week in worship, with nurturing and kindness for each other, and support for the choices we make.

Transitions are places of peril because they require that we make a choice, whether we want to or not, whether we know how to or not, whether we are ready or not. And we have to live with the consequences. We’re in a transition here today in this congregation, unexpectedly. We have an immediate choice to make with immediate consequences, and whatever choice we make our congregation has now changed. We are the better for the struggle.

Much of the strength of our congregation is 125 years of spiritual community. We have watched our babies grow big enough to light the altar candles, we bring food and kindness and remembrance to those who are grieving, we celebrate graduations and anniversaries, we listen to our elders’ stories, and in community we see the cycle of life that a single lifetime can’t teach us. We’ve learned to make our congregational choices the right way, by wrestling alone with God, then coming together as a congregation to find the answers and make the choice. We grow in spiritual strength with each others’ help.

Our decision today, whatever it is, strengthens us, individually and collectively. I am grateful to be part of a congregation that allows us our private wrestlings with God and wraps us in the spiritual support that comes from generations of community prayer. I think we are blessed.

Past Recipients of the
Kirkland Congregational Women’s Fellowship
Woman of the Year Award

2005    Dottie Blair
2004    Sue Selmer
2003    Marjie Kichline
2002    Janet Godwin
2001    Joan Voves
2000    Katie Hubble
1999    Ellen Zigler, Anita Jones
1998    Esther Tye Smith, Inez Hoyt
1997    Martha Baldwin, Belle Marie Rightmire
1996    Char Bates, Margaret Kennedy, Marjorie Nelson, Diane Wilson
1995    Eli Berkey, Betty Carter
1994    Ruth Wiesen, Florence Wilkinson
1993    Meredith Gaskill
1992    Jerry Rutherford
1991    Charlotte Ellis, JoAnn Harris, Margaretta Reid
1990    Karen Hammond
1989    Gertrude Gates, Yvetta Hoyer, Enid Johnston, Ethel Jovag, Violet Sievers, Dee Taylor
1988    Helen Schoen
1987    Rae Jo Lea, Verna Thormahlen
1986    Marguerite Johnson
1985    Pam Gustafson
1984    Joan Montgomery, Barbara Anderson
1983    Helen Hopkins
1982    Dorothy Peck
1981    Helen Dahl
1980    Shirley Lindahl
1979    Teri Hammond
1978    Mary Bailey
1977    Ethel Crowe
1976    Alice Erickson