“The Kingdom of Heaven is a State Park Vacation...and a good church is, too.”

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www.gsaustin.org

Fall / Winter 2012Volume 1

Number 1 JOY & WonderStories of the Good Shepherd Parish Family

A Good Word from the Rector

I am so excited about the publication you hold in your hand that I can barely stand it!

Joy & Wonder inaugurates a new strategy to more effectively communicate the Good Shepherd story to our parish family and the larger communities we serve. After considering carefully the implications imposed by the diversity of digital access in our congregation and the ever-increasing expense of a church communication plan anchored by a weekly or monthly newsletter, more than eighteen months ago we began the study and action process leading to this semi-annual magazine. We believe Joy & Wonder represents not only a more cost-effective communication tool, but an exciting opportunity to focus on who we are as the people of God, rather than only the catalogue of appointments that we keep and the programs that we host.

Please know that you will still be able to stay informed about upcoming events by reading your Sunday bulletin insert (known colloquially as the “This Week”); by reviewing our weekly parish email; and/or by participating in our growing digital presence. In addition to those nuts-and-bolts tools, we hope Joy & Wonder will remind you of why we do all the good stuff that we do as the Body of Christ. With that goal in mind, you may recognize the magazine’s title from the prayer we offer in support of the newly baptized:

“Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon these your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised them to the new life of grace. Sustain them, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”

Indeed, you will find in this magazine the stories of those who call Good Shepherd their spiritual home and continue to find “the gift of joy and wonder in all of [God’s] works,” as we live out our Baptismal Covenant at the corner of Windsor and Exposition, and beyond. I hope, too, that in these pages you will recognize yourself – your story, your faith, and your best hopes for this Good Shepherd – for you are the Church: not the buildings, not the prayer books, not even our best programs and favorite staff…you are the Church.

So pour yourself a cup of coffee; have a seat in your favorite reading chair; lean back, and enjoy these stories of God’s Kingdom and your church family.

Godspeed,

The Rev. Morgan S. Allen,Rector

By The Rev. Morgan Allen

The Rev. Morgan Allen can be reached at morgan@gsaustin.org

CONTENTS:

Discovering14 Fellowship, Love and Family24 Shepherd Camp: 2012

Worshiping23 A Deeper Communion

Serving29 A Journey of Faith

Giving08 Caring at the Crossroads30 Learning to Give

Loving12 Taking Risks10 Gathering Stones

Features26 A Baptist in an Episcopal World04 In Peril on the Sea16 The Kingdom of Heaven is a State Park

STATE PARK 16

IN PERIL 04

EPISCOPAL WORLD 26

IN THIS ISSUE:

Eternal Father, strong to save,Whose arm hath bound the

restless wave,Who bidd’st the might ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep:O hear us when we cry to theeFor those in peril on the sea.

The Navy Hymn

From the 2011 Good Shepherd Story Project SeriesBy Wendell Mayes, Jr.

Wendell as an Aviation Radio Technician Second Class

In Peril on the Sea | Joy & Wonder

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I heard the Navy Hymn many times while I was in the navy. It wasn’t until the early summer of 1945, however, that its words took on a personal meaning, and I sensed that someone had protected me from the perils on the sea. Because I had only

a few months of sea duty, I was at the North Island Naval Air Station at Coronado, California, waiting to be assigned to another aircraft carrier. The Navy Hymn’s words came to mind time after time as I learned that still another sailor who had been my classmate at the Navy’s radar schools had been killed or injured, and I thought of the twists and turns my Navy service had taken.

Two years earlier I was an Apprentice Seaman at the Navy’s boot camp across San Diego Bay from the North Island Naval Air Station. I had completed only one year of a college electrical engineering program when I joined the navy and was sent to the San Diego boot camp. Because of what I learned in that one year of the college engineering I did well on a test and the navy assigned me to a radar training program when my boot camp training was over.

When I finished the regular radar course, I was one of nineteen sailors that received special training on the radar used by night fighter airplanes. When that training ended we were all transferred to a naval air station in Rhode Island where we

were assigned to different night fighter squadrons that used the radar in their airplanes. We had gone to school together for 43 weeks, and we were a tight-knit group that kept in touch.

After several months in Rhode Island, the Navy transferred my squadron to Barber’s Point Naval Air Station on Oahu, Hawaii. Night fighter squadrons were split up soon after we got to Hawaii, and by chance I was in the first group that was transferred. On October 24, 1944, Gene Brooke, Wally Cranston, and I were the three night fighter radar technicians that went aboard USS Yorktown. We were assigned to Fighting Squadron 3, a squadron that was a unit of Yorktown’s Air Group 3 that had been training for almost a year on the air

station on the Hawaiian island of Maui. Someone protected me while I was in peril on the sea. If

any wartime cruise aboard a warship can be called routine, my time aboard Yorktown was just that. Although I got five battle stars for my campaign ribbons and got to wear the Presidential Unit citation, my only part in the battles was helping maintain the radar on the four night fighter airplanes of Fighting Squadron 3. The only “enemy” I saw was a poor half-drowned Japanese teen-age fisherman that a Navy ship plucked out of the ocean after his fishing boat had been sunk by shell fire. I never saw a Japanese ship or airplane. Yorktown suffered no damage from enemy action while I was aboard her.

Wendell Mayes, Jr.: tallest sailor in the back row Fighting Squadron 3 of the USS Yorktown, 1945

Joy & Wonder | In Peril on the Sea

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By March 1945 I had been to sea only four months, but my air group had trained on Maui, so it had been outside the continental United States longer than any other air group in the fleet. When it came time for USS Lexington to come back to the States, the men of Yorktown’s air group traded places with those of Lexington’s. On March 6, 1945, four days after I spent my 21st birthday aboard Yorktown anchored in the Ulithi atoll in the western Pacific, I sailed for home aboard Lexington with the rest of the men of Air Group 3.

On March 14 I was aboard Lexington on the way to Pearl Harbor and Seattle when Yorktown sailed out of Ulithi atoll for action against the Japanese. Four days later, on the 18th

Yorktown was off the Japanese Island of Kyushu with Ed Sherman, Danny Carvath, and Bob Lueck aboard. They were the night fighter radar technicians of Fighting Squadron 9, the Lexington squadron that had replaced my squadron on the Yorktown.

Yorktown’s crew was at battle Stations at 3 o’clock in the afternoon when a bomb from a Japanese Judy hit the starboard side of Yorktown’s signal bridge, passed through the deck at an angle and exploded 15 feet above the water and 30 feet from the ship. The explosion blew a hole in the side of the ship and sent shrapnel into the radar repair room where I would have been had I been aboard Yorktown.

The shrapnel killed Ed Sherman instantly. Shrapnel peppered Bob Lueck’s body and he died during the night. Danny Carvath had poked his head out of the radar repair room’s porthole and the bomb’s blast hit him full in the face. Yorktown’s physicians were able to save part of one of his eyes.

Yorktown soon patched up the damage to her starboard side and joined the other aircraft carriers with the fleet for the battle for Okinawa. More American sailors were killed during the battle for Okinawa than in any other battle in the history of the U.S. Navy. As sailors came back from the fleet, I heard about radar technicians who had trained with me. I heard

about nearly all of the other eighteen sailors in my night fighter radar class. Bob Linfield, who was in the class, was not injured. Neither was I. All of the others that I heard about were either killed or injured.

I have visited Bob Linfield in his home in Boulder, Colorado, several times, and he and his wife visited Mary Jane and me in our home in Austin. Bob, who was a faithful member of the Episcopal Church in Boulder, died last year.

Because I scored well on a test, I went to Navy radar schools. Because of a happenstance assignment to an air group and squadron that had trained in the Hawaiian Islands instead of the continental United States, I debarked Yorktown twelve days before a Japanese bomb killed two of Yorktown’s three night fighter radar technicians who had replaced my two radar technician shipmates and me. Because I was back in the United States, I missed the Okinawa battle where Japanese bombs killed and injured so many sailors I had trained with. I did not then and do not now think that I deserved more than anyone else, but someone answered the navy Hymn for me when I was just a skinny kid in peril on the sea.

“I did not then and do not now think that I deserved more than anyone else, but

someone answered the navy Hymn

for me when I was just a skinny kid in peril on the sea.”

Wendell Mayes and his wife, Mary Jane, have been members of Good Shepherd for more than 45 years. Both have served the parish as Senior Warden.

In Peril on the Sea | Joy & Wonder

USS Yorktown

&

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Bishop’s Visit Confirmation&Sunday, December 23 9:00a & 11:00a

CARING AT THE

AUSTIN PETS ALIVE: By volunteering at Austin Pets Alive, I get to meet dogs and cats that want a home in which they will be loved. APA! has saved over 14,000 pets from certain death in just four years.

Each one of them has a unique personality that they will usually share after just a few minutes. Fun Size is a small German shepherd mix. She will walk around in front of me to make me stop and stand up to put her front paws around my waist. If I lean down to return the hug, she tucks her head under my chin and kisses. Maggie May is a Rottweiler mix and will close her eyes when I rub under her chin. Some, however, are so shy and/or scared that it may take several minutes or even come back tries for them to begin to trust. Arnold came to us and cowered in the back of his cage barking loudly or jumped at the cage walls barking wildly. He now walks calmly and likes to get treats. Once the trust is gained the rewards are hugs and licks (in dog and cat speak, kisses). Those hugs and kisses and a tail wag or purr are the proof of having helped one of our 4 legged friends regain healthiness in spirit and become more adoptable because of it. Those of you who have pets know the unconditioned love that they have for us, and most of that love is reciprocated. A loved pet is a happy pet. What more can I say?

FAITH IN ACTION CAREGIVERS: WEST AUSTIN: The experience of giving back by volunteering to help someone remain independent longer is more than a cab-driving relationship. Often, as with my mother, a familial bond is created. Several volunteers gave her rides, but she loved one volunteer in particular, and that volunteer loved her back. Mother would bring her children with her for the drives, and she loved that she had a couple more ‘grandchildren’. Even after tthat volunteer placement was satisfied, their bond continued.

I volunteer to drive for Faith in Action Caregivers-West Austin because it was time to ‘pay back’ the rides my mother received. I serve on the board for that same reason (and because of Kathy Hatfield Denum’s persuasiveness). The feeling of doing something useful and being constantly reminded how thankful those people are that I drive is the only reward needed.

Louis Wade I Volunteer Locations: APA and FAIC - West Austin

Loving | Joy & Wonder

Stories From The Intersection Of Life And Faith

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CROSSROADS

Jane Hammond I Volunteer Location: The Settlement HomeTHE SETTLEMENT HOME: Our family moved to Austin in the summer of 1982, and we immediately began the search for a church. On my first visit, I knew Good Shepherd was a fit, and it has been our “home” for the last thirty years. Now, our children and grandchildren are involved members of our beloved parish family.

Through those years, Good Shepherd has provided me with so many opportunities to be an active participant in its ministry and mission. And, of equal importance, transitioning from one ministry to the next has always been readily accepted and supported. Currently, I assist the Altar Guild by delivering altar flowers from our Sunday services to our members who are ill or suffering from a loss, cook with St. Bridget’s Guild, serve as a host on Sunday mornings, and as a PWOCAH (Parishioner Without Children At Home) in our Pre-school Sunday School.

Each of these ministries has afforded me a chance to meet and become closer to other parishioners on the same journey. And, in every instance, these experiences have deepened my faith and increased my love of service.

I also feel an appreciation for the Austin community and, while I have participated in many wonderful organizations over the years, it has been the Settlement Home for Children that has profoundly touched my heart. The Settlement Home’s mission is to provide a safe, loving environment for children who have physical, emotional and mental needs. Most often, these children are victims of dysfunctional and troubled families. The goal is to re-integrate the child into the family or community. For almost 100 years, the Settlement Home has relied on the generosity and service of others to fulfill this mission, and for 29 of those years it has been a part of my life.

Whether serving in the church or in the community, I believe I am responding to God’s call to a ministry. And, I feel abundantly blessed and thankful to have Good Shepherd and our church family enabling and supporting that ministry.

Joy & Wonder | Loving

Do you know someone who is caring at the Crossroads of our church and our community? Contact Sallie Wright Milam at swmilam@gsaustin.org

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The prophet Ezra wrote about a day two years after the people of Israel returned from captivity. During those two years the people of Israel moved among the scattered stones of their beloved Temple that called them to lay a new foundation. Once that new foundation had been laid, Ezra tells us that the people broke out in singing praises for God’s blessing of returning them. Some of the older leaders wept upon remembering the glory of the old temple, even as others shouted for joy, so that in a short time no one could distinguish the weeping from the shouting. In time, the people of Israel came to realize that thier community, and not their building, was God’s gift to them. Israel’s history from that point forward builds upon that moment and that recognition.

After Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast, Kathleen, my wife, was part of a recovery mission to a church along the Mississippi gulf. This parish had only the outline of the church’s foundation left and the area around it was littered with the debris of their spiritual home. As Kathleen and others sifted among the apparent total devastation, they came upon whole and broken items from the parish. Each was lovingly cleaned and, as Episcopalians do, an informal “liturgy” developed in which people laid each found piece upon the foundation stone, remembered its part in the life of the community. The working crew and congregation gave thanks for it, even when tears came to their eyes, and they praised God that people had been spared and memories brought them new life amidst the devastation. The congregation emerged from the liturgy more dedicated and more focused on how they might best serve God.

Like the people of Israel in the midst of their devastation, the people of the Gulf Coast discovered the joy in their community of people and the importance of their stones as instruments to carry the stories of their loved ones in their

Christian family. Once again, the gift for future generations was re-understood to be community.

Likewise, Good Shepherd has experienced its own scattering of stones, and we now confront the possibility of actually demolishing buildings in preparation for a re-gathering of stones as we build towards a new future. While there is good news in this being done with deliberation rather than as a result of disaster, nevertheless the journey through the scattering of stones will evoke sadness because of the witness of loving souls past and present that these stones carry. As I prepared to leave All Souls’ after nearly thirteen years, parishioners and I realized that we could measure the depth of the loving, caring, and sharing of ministry we did together as we simultaneously wept and rejoiced.

As part of the new staff of “gathered stones” that Morgan has assembled, I join with you to carry all those memories into our shared future when we dedicate new spaces, but, more importantly, when we dedicate ourselves to serving Christ by bringing the loving treasures of the past into conversation with the treasures of souls now with us, and even the souls yet to join us.

Jesus, as he stood near the stones that Ezra and the people laid, told the people that if the temple was torn down, it would be rebuilt in three days. While they thought he was talking about the physical stones, he was referring to the spiritual “stones” of his own death and resurrection. Our “Temple” is Jesus, and he is with us whenever and wherever we gather. The temple of his family grows: not with stones and mortar, but with hearts and souls singing in praise; weeping as the spirit moves; and savoring together the past and joyful future.

GATHERING STONESByThe Rev. Mike Russell

The Rev. Mike Russell can be reached at mike@gsaustin.org

Loving | Joy & Wonder

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LONGEST NIGHT

LiturgyThursday, December 20 | 6:00p

A communion service of hope, healing and remembrance, accompanied by piano, seeking to support those for whom the holiday season is difficult or painful.

TAKING RISKSI have never been much of a risk taker. I generally cross

the street at the corner. I avoid all plunging sports, like bungee jumping or sky diving. I also try not to wear white shoes after Labor Day. I would not say that I am a worry wart, maybe more of a wet blanket. I just try to minimize my injuries.

I am sure that I am not alone in my dislike of danger. In fact, avoiding danger and risk is good. God gave us instincts to protect us, so we should use them to avoid cobra juggling and base jumping. At the same time, caution can be confused with cowardice. Are there times where God might be asking me to take a risk? Where would God like me to be a dare-devil? When God asks, am I cowering under my desk, claiming that I am just being sensible or am I being cowardly? When must we be willing to take risks? When must we be willing to leap without knowing if there is a net?

Two years ago God presented me with the opportunity to take a dangerous risk. The social worker called at 5 PM on a Monday. I was exhausted, when I heard the woman on the other end of the line say: “We have a daughter for you. Will you come and pick her up?”

I felt the room shift around me. I had signed up to be a foster/adoptive parent, but I did not realize that they would call so soon. My house was not ready. I did not have a car seat. I did not even tell my mother that I had signed up to do this. Still, my daughter was waiting.

Doubts filled my mind. Would I really get to adopt this child? The last child I fostered had returned to her mother. What would I do? How would I do this? I should have been reasonable. I should have been prudent. Instead I said yes.

I picked up my beautiful baby girl that evening, and I have not let go of her since. I have never been so glad to take a risk. What risks are God asking you to take?

By The Rev. Mary Koppel

Mary Koppel can be reached at mary@gsaustin.org

Joy & Wonder | Loving

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The Rev. Mary Koppel and her daughter enjoy a jim-jim at the parish fair.

SEPTEMBER 30, 2012 | 4:00p

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF THE GOOD SHEPHERDALL OF GOD’S CREATURES ARE WELCOME!

OFTHE

God gave each of us a family to share life with, to grow within, to learn from and teach to, and to care deeply for always! But, it’s not easy being a part of a family. It takes hard work to nurture relationships within. We celebrate life, mourn death, contemplate and plan for the future, while seizing the present and treasuring the past. As I write, and I suppose as you read this, a flood of visions comes to mind of your family and their importance in your life.

The examples above of FELLOWSHIP and LOVE bring yet another vision to mind as I reflect on the life of Good Shepherd Episcopal School and the family that exists here. We are blessed to share many of the same convictions…our dedication to providing nurturing experiences for children, a commitment to a safe and happy environment, open communication, and respect for others. Common characteristics shared among us are those things that bring

all types of people together in the name of love. I see it in every chapel service, in each event we enjoy together, and most recently in the outpouring of volunteerism to plan for and execute Family Day 2012. It was the culminating event of our school year together and a reminder of just how much we love our “family gatherings”!

Our Good Shepherd family is a gift for each of us. Through FELLOWSHIP and LOVE we can accomplish great things, give great things and thank God for the privilege of doing so!

FAM-I-LY \ ‘fam-(e)le \ n 1. a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation: FELLOWSHIP 2. a group of things related by common characteristics: LOVE.

FELLOWSHIP, LOVE, AND FAMILYBy Jeanie Stark

To learn more about Good Shepherd Episcopal School, visit www.gses.org, or contact the Head of School, Jeanie Stark, at jeanie@gses.org.

Discovering | Joy & Wonder

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The Good Shepherd Episcopal School administrative building

ART AROUND THE OFFICE

ARTIST BIO: SALLY SHEPPARD MANDELLBA Plan 11, University of Texas 1960

I am married to Humboldt Mandell and have two children, Lauren & Celeste Sheppard; and two grandchildren, Caleb and Toby Wolfson. I am a retired Commodity

Broker, Stock Broker and rancher. Hum and I travel frequently and are looking forward to a trip to Antarctica this fall. I like to cook, to entertain, and to work with photography. In my art, I look for unusual things to photograph such as the antique road grader I saw in the San Juan Islands, on Lummi Island at the Grange Hall. I love sweeping landscapes such as the view from the top of Mt. Locke (McDonald Observatory there) or the view of Palo Dura Canyon at dawn. Most of the time you will find me taking pictures of beautiful flowers in my neighborhood, in the Kew Gardens in London, and in the gardens of Paris and Mexico.

ARTIST BIO: GREG BURKI was born in Tyler, TX in 1942,

and graduated from Baylor 1965. I hold graduate degrees in theology, philosophy, and psychology, and I married DeeLee Shaunfield in 1970. I was the student assistant to the Director of Laity Lodge for two summers (1970-71). From 1972-77, I pastored an English speaking-

church and worked as a counselor in the American Military Hospital Department of Psychiatry, in Heidelberg, Germany. I became Executive Director of the Pastoral Care and Counseling Center in Abilene, TX in 1977, and I worked there until 1985. DeeLee and I had two daughters while in Abilene, Gretchen and Courtney. We moved to Austin in 1985, where I established a residential home construction company and a private counseling practice in individual, marriage, family and group therapy. I spoke for many adult education classes at local churches and wrote for the West Austin News during that time. DeeLee and I built a home north of Dripping Springs and west of Bee Cave Village in 1988, where we still live today. Our daughters are 31 and 28, respectively. Both are married and live in Austin, as well. I retired a few years ago.

I have been interested in art from my earliest memory. Photography became a passion in Europe. I started oil painting a few years ago, which rekindled my interest in photography. My strongest interests are people, our life journey/process, architecture, flowers, gardening, food, art, and of course, photography.

Art Around the Office showcases the artistic talents of Good Shepherd parishioners. Spear headed by Charles Sikes, the idea began when the Administration Building was completed in 2005 with nothing to grace the walls! Now, these years later, each artist’s work remains on view for a minimum of six months in the lobby, conference

room, and hallways. In recent years, we have enjoyed works by Joanie Sharpe, Valerie Walden, and Laura Barrow, as well as the embroidery work by St. Elizabeth’s.

Beginning October 2012, two parishioner artists, Greg Burk and Sally Sheppard Mandell will have their photography showcased in the office.

Please join us for a Wine & Cheese Art Opening on

Wednesday, October 3 at 5:00p in the Administration Building.

If you are interested in sharing your creative talent with an exhibit of your work, please contact Charles Sikes at chazsikes@austin.rr.com.

I think often of a David Sedaris short story in which he admits that his family stopped spending time with him because they feared that he would write stories

disclosing the details of their personal lives. I fear that one day, likewise, my wife and children will begin hiding from me, too, afraid that their lives will wind up narrated from the pulpit. Truth be told, I can’t help it: Sedaris experiences the world in twenty-page short stories, while I live my life in fifteen-minute sermons, both of us writing what we know.

In my defense, on my best days my family is the most important part of my life, while, even in my worst moments, Missy, Michael, Ginna, and I, still spend an awful lot of time together. Further, there is no more significant part of our common life as a family than Good Shepherd and The Episcopal Church. Therefore, it only makes sense that when I look for the Kingdom of Heaven in my life, I find it not only in the mission and ministry of our congregation, but in my son’s gentleness, my daughter’s spirit, and my wife’s kindnesses. I do not tell these tales to embarrass my family or to suggest that God is somehow more at work in our house than in others’. Rather, I hope that the stories of The Family Allen invite the people of our congregation to recognize God at work in their lives and in the lives of their families.

Related to this recognition of God at work in all of our lives, in the Gospel of Matthew Jesus commissions the twelve disciples: “As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near’” (Matthew 10:7). Significantly, Jesus does not imply in this instruction that the disciples’ visit brings that Kingdom near. Rather, Jesus calls the disciples to encourage the people they visit to recognize the Kingdom as already present in their lives. The disciples’ visit, then – like a good sermon or short story – accomplishes its best work by inviting our recognition of what is already true about ourselves and the God who loves us.

Recognizing this Kingdom in our midst does not always come easily for me, however, and, in the most harried moments of my professional and family lives, I lose my energy to seek it. Fortunately, the Kingdom of Heaven comes especially near in the summertime, when I let down my guard and enjoy the company of those I love – and who love me – with a fuller focus and a better heart: a heart not divided by work, or want, or to whatever distractions I customarily give myself. That Kingdom came near this August, when laying on the white sands of a Florida beach I discovered anew that the Kingdom of Heaven is not only treasure hidden in a field; not only a merchant in search of fine pearls; and not only a net thrown

“The Kingdom of Heaven is a State Park Vacation

...and a good church is, too.”

By The Rev. Morgan Allen

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind… (Matthew 13:44-47).

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into the sea…but a state park vacation. And if we as a church want to be a community that incarnates that Kingdom (and we do), then a good church is, too.

We first left Austin for our summer vacation on a Sunday afternoon, and, after spending a night with my Aunt Susan in Monroe, Louisiana

(where she fed us like true Southern royalty: lady peas, pork tenderloin, squash, mashed potatoes – Lord, have mercy!), the family and I spent three nights at Red Top Mountain State Park, on Lake Allatoona in Cartersville, Georgia. Arriving at the Park in the late afternoon, we dropped off our luggage and drove the twenty minutes to my sister- and brother-in-laws’ home where we picked up my niece and two nephews, the three first-cousins my children do not have an opportunity to visit often. That first night, all five kiddos slept in our small cabin, and they awoke to a thickly-programmed day of extended-family fun.

Following a wonderfully messy pancake breakfast, the five children first investigated the territory immediately around our cabin. Sipping a cup of coffee, I watched them from our porch that overlooked the steep hill rolling toward the lake. Initially, each child blazed a separate trail, fanning across the big “backyard” the way a firework might split the sky. Then,

there was a voice crying out in the wilderness: “Hey, yall! Everybody! You have to see this!”

Ginna had come across a log, which at some point in its life had hooked a cane pole’s fishing line, hook, bobber, and weights. She held the log above her head, shaking it and chortling like a Tuskan Raider bearing his staff. Her four cousins quickly abandoned their expeditions and ran to the tiniest of their number.

“Let me see that,” the oldest suggested as he reached for the log, implying with his tone that the discovery might be dangerous. “I want to hold it!” each of the others whined in their turn. As they passed the log to one another, the children studied the relic carefully, running their fingers along its soft,

You better believe there are pancakes in the Kingdom of Heaven.

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waterlogged edges and plucking its fishing line.“I’ve got an idea!” Michael finally announced. I raised

my head and watched my son carefully loose the angling gear from the log. Finding a decent stick, he tied the twenty inches of line and hook to its end, leaving the bobber and weights for his sister and cousins to claim as prizes. Seeing trouble coming on the horizon, I pulled out the two nets we brought to chase sandcrabs on the upcoming Florida leg of our trip, and I walked down the hill to accompany the fishermen to the shore of the lake.

“Great job, Dada!” Ginna shouted! “We can use the nets for fishing. We’re going to the Lake. You should come with us.”

Once at the bank, Michael started to fish (using leftover pancakes for bait and “casting” from the most precarious rocks possible), while two of his cousins attempted to catch fish in the nets. The two youngest children, equipped with the bobber and weights, respectively, declared that they possessed magic, fishing talismans: “I can use this to call to the fish,” Ginna explained, holding out the bobber and squeezing its line apparatus while she made beeping noises.

“I see one!...I almost got it!...You scared it away!...Look ‘over there!” The children took off their shoes, muddied their clothes, slipped into the lake, caught no fish, and cried when it was time to come inside.

Indeed, the Kingdom of Heaven is getting dirty and catching no fish with your cousins.

Following lunch and the fishing expedition, all five children completed the program to become Georgia State Park Junior Rangers, each of them earning an

impressive – and free! – patch announcing their new station. Missy and I signed off on their completion of the required eight tasks, and the rangers never questioned whether or not we had really searched, found, and identified three different kinds of pine trees by the length and texture of their needles (of

course, we had discovered the pine needles, as well as having honorably completed all the other commissions).

The newly-minted Junior Rangers then insisted that we play a round of putt-putt on the aging course encircling the entrance to the most popular man-made swimming hole on Lake Allatoona. When we inquired about how much it would cost to play, the Visitor Center volunteer explained that it was free, and she counted out for us seven neon golfballs and seven rubber putters of varying lengths.

“Don’t you need my driver’s license or something?” Missy asked.

“Don’t worry about that, honey,” the volunteer answered. “Just bring everything back when you’re done.”

At the state parks we visited, we experienced such trust as a cultural standard rather than as an exception, and not only within our own family and from park officials, but from fellow guests, as well. When the five children broke my parental spirit and demands for orderliness following three holes of putter-swinging, whiny protests over playing order, I (in a defeated, disdainful voice) told them to play whatever holes they wanted, in whatever order they preferred.

Not unpredictably, the oldest of the children soon teed his ball on a green with a steep incline that he correctly assessed would serve well as a launching pad. Taking a cut fit for a homerun derby rather than a putt-putt park, his bright yellow ball sailed over a fence and landed on the swimming hole’s sandy beach. A kind teenager who had observed the ball’s flight picked it up and, without a scowl of inconvenience, walked it to the fence. Passing the ball through the chain link, the teenager looked toward me before sharing a knowing glance with my nephew. Like prisoners trading cigarettes, he might have said, “Kid, I’ve been whipped for lesser offenses: learn from my mistakes and be careful out there.”

Yes: the Kingdom of Heaven is a Junior Ranger patch and the unexpected kindness of strangers.

That evening we said goodbye to our Georgia family, returning the road crew to our more familiar and manageable foursome, and the next

morning we headed south to spend three nights in a one-bedroom, one-bath cabin at Florida’s Topsail Hill State Park. The Florida park’s advertising suggests that “Once you’ve stayed at Topsail, everything else is downhill,” and while the tagline doesn’t exactly rhyme, I can’t argue with its sentiment. The state acquired the three miles of undeveloped beachfront in 1992 and, in 1998, added to their holdings the RV park located immediately behind their existing wildlife preserve. The upside of the Topsail park is that the beach is perfect: unblemished by either high-rise condos or throngs of people. The downside is that the beach is more than a half-mile from the cabins and campsites.

“The children took off their shoes, muddied their clothes, slipped into the lake, caught no fish, and cried when it was time to come inside.”

18

To bridge the distance between the two, a pickup truck towing two trailers of aluminum, high school stadium-style bleachers runs every hour, on

the hour, from 9:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M, ferrying campers from the park to the beach and back again. In addition to this “Topsail Tram” and the foot traffic’rs who walk the twenty minutes to the beach, many guests bring bicycles to the park and bike to and from the beach in coveys of families and friends.

While I am not a cycling aficionado, many of the bikes that passed us along the road looked fancy to me, and, if those rides were not expensive, they were, at least, highly personalized. Some of the bikes towed little wagons full of beach gear, while others boasted tall flags with various “pieces of flair” set upon their sails. Arriving at the boardwalk, I was surprised, then, to notice that not one of these parked, personalized bicycles had been locked: not one wheel had been removed, not one chain had been secured, not one bicycle had been protected from theft…not one. While I had previously encountered collections of flip-flops and Topsiders left at the end of beach boardwalks, these bikes represented more significant investments, and their carefree owners’ habits confused me.

Still suspiciously carrying with me my fifteen-year-old Teva sandals as we walked to our spot by the surf, I wondered who these trusting people might be. Even as I recognized that though I was in this new world but not yet of it, my heart lifted at the notion that I was trusted, and I knew: the Kingdom of God is leaving your bicycles unlocked and your flip-flops on the boardwalk.

Now, the last morning of a beach vacation measures a family’s true commitment to the sand, surf, and sun. Any politely coast-inclined clan can spend

several-hour stretches on the beach knowing that they will retire to their air-conditioned condo, but after three or four days of staying up too late and waking early and bleary-eyed; of hauling sunshades and ice chests; of walking along the beach and swimming through the waves; most beaching families take that checkout morning to sleep late, get a good shower, and pack the family roadster. And that’s understandable – maybe even normal – particularly considering the inevitable driving to be done post-checkout…but that is not how The Family Allen vacations.

For one, my wife loves the beach. Like I love baseball and Buicks, Missy loves seashells and suntans. When we lived nearer the Alabama and Florida coasts, she and I would take a trip to the beach every year, eventually adding our children to the mix. While during the last two

summers we tripped to Galveston for weekend getaways, once we made the decision to visit our family outside of Atlanta, Missy cleverly proposed our travel carry us through Florida on the way back.

Moreover, Missy and I share a common commitment to maximize the bang of every vacation buck and every vacation hour (“Mandatory fun, young people! Mandatory fun for another twelve minutes!” I shouted to my family at the Legoland Discovery Center in Atlanta), and we share the opinion that the last, check-out morning counts. So, after a solid ten hours spent on the beach the day before our departure, we bathed

“Even as I recognized that though I was in this new world but not yet of it, my heart lifted …”

19

and fed the kids, brushed their little teeth, and put them to bed on the pull-out sofa in the den. They fell asleep waiting on Michael Phelps to win his last Olympic race, while Missy and I packed up everything we could.

The next morning – with an eleven o’clock checkout time – we woke Michael and Ginna at 5:45 A.M; loaded ourselves and their little shoulders with everything we would need for a few hours at the beach; and we hiked the half-mile to the boardwalk before the sun even made its way above the trees. Those four hours may have been the best of our trip: the breeze was soft and the waves were easy; Michael found the biggest hermit crab any of us had ever seen; and I took – literally – 412 pictures.

Among the other reasons we cram fun into departure days, Missy and I both enjoy planning and organizing, and after carefully crafting a timeline, we decided that we could take the 10:00 A.M. Tram back to the park and still make checkout. As Colonel Hannibal Smith was wont to say, “I love it when a plan comes together.” When we arrived back at the cabin, I showered first, then Missy, and then the kids. I loaded the car until 10:55, at which time I drove to the Ranger’s Station and returned our key. Meanwhile, at the cabin, Missy herded the kids and shepherded them through their last clean-up before we hit the road. As I backed the Buick into the small driveway, all of our bags had been neatly readied on the porch; the floor had been swept; the beds had been stripped; lunchtime sandwiches had been made and packaged in individual Ziplocs; and we were ready for our next adventure.

Alleluia, alleluia: the Kingdom of Heaven is that last morning at the beach, not to mention falling asleep in front of the TV, waking up early, carrying your own ice chest, and eating sandwiches in the car.

These sayings of Jesus recorded in the thirteenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel ask us to commit all that we have and all that we are to the Kingdom

of Heaven. In the way we might pursue hidden treasure, search for rare pearls, or chase a great catch of fish, Jesus asks us to seek the Kingdom of Heaven. I do not believe that these are primarily appeals for increased financial Stewardship (unless, for us, they need to be). Rather, I read Jesus as calling us to an integrated life, one in which we recognize that all of our “lives” – individual, civic, professional, familial, ecclesial – comprise one life. The Kingdom of Heaven is neither a reality present in only one or the other of these, nor a promise to be realized only when we have died. The Kingdom of Heaven is a gift available to us here and now and all our life long.

During my late-summer vacation, I found this Kingdom of Heaven in my children’s rediscovery of their extended family and in the sufficiency of our things when we lived with an abundance of love. I found this Kingdom of Heaven when I experienced trust: as one who was trusted, as one who could entrust, and as one who was trustworthy. I found the Kingdom of Heaven on the sofa and in the sand and everywhere I had the courage, confidence, and faith to see the blessing of my God come very, very near.

Importantly, God calls us at Good Shepherd not only to point to this reality in the lives of our people and in the community around us, but to be a state park vacation for souls wearied and wounded by the brokenness of this world. That is, God calls Good Shepherd to incarnate the Kingdom of Heaven, to become a community that seeks, recognizes, and cultivates the Kingdom experience of and for our parish family.

Now, there’s no turn-down service on this state park vacation. There’s no valet parking, no gourmet breakfast, and

no signature cocktails. On the state park vacation and in the Kingdom of Heaven we carry our own ice chests, not as a burden,

but as a gift. For the further we carry them – or, in our due season, that someone carries ours or we carry another’s – the better the beer tastes.

Moreover and fortunately for us, pursuing God’s Kingdom and becoming a state park vacation does not require perfection. Inevitably, some guy (probably in an Alabama Crimson Tide national championship t-shirt) is going to leave his Hot Fries wrapper in the sand for us to find. Other days at the beach, it’s going to rain and the Tram is going to run late. However, when we commit all that we have and all that we are to chase Heaven on earth, God grants us Grace to keep perspective. We realize that no more than these experiences declare that the beach is broken and we shouldn’t return, when the Church announces to us its imperfection – and it will – we pick up the wrapper, wait out the storm, and afford our community the same Grace that God has shown to us. The more often we recognize the Kingdom and the more faithfully we incarnate it as a congregation, the more durable we become as Christians, individually and collectively. In this way, The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd has been and will continue to be a strong church, providing a compelling witness of love in and for our community.

Friends, indeed: the Kingdom of God has come near! I invite you to see it, to be it, and to share it.

The Rev. Morgan Allen can be reached at morgan@gsaustin.org

“Friends, indeed: the Kingdom of God has come near! I invite you to see it, to be it, and to share it.”

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REQUIEMSUNDAY, OCTOBER 289:00 & 11:00 AM EUCHARIST

Our annual Requiem – at which we remember and pray for the departed, especially members of our parish family who have died within the preceding year – will feature Rutter’s beloved music for choir and instruments. This year Laudate, our new youth ensemble, will join the Good Shepherd Choir in singing the Requiem.

COMMEMORATION OF ALL FAITHFUL DEPARTED

By Eric Mellenbruch

Forty-four choristers, family, and friends from Good Shepherd, St. David’s, and beyond left Austin on the afternoon of August 8, arriving in Edinburgh the next morning. In the ensuing ten days, we sang on seven different occasions in some of the largest, most beautiful, and historically most important church buildings in the United Kingdom, and in the process – singing the liturgy, sightseeing, or simply spending time together, we found a deeper sense of communion with one another, with the Church, and with God.

The tour began with the vision of Choirmaster, Jonathan Babcock, who had previously taken university choirs on several successful overseas trips. A parish choir tour is different, however: in addition to three midday concerts, we had the opportunity to sing four services (Choral Evensong and Holy Eucharist) in the stead of the resident choirs who were on vacation, taking our place in the nearly uninterrupted stream of daily prayers offered in those places for, in many cases, a thousand years or more.

Any kind of group travel, of course, necessarily engenders a certain closeness as people spend a great deal of time together, sometimes in close quarters and not always at each person’s best! Long airplane and bus rides; guided tours of places like Edinburgh, York, Lincoln Castle, King’s College (Cambridge), the Tower of London, and many more; and meals and free time spent together afforded ample opportunity for choristers to get to know one another, deepening existing friendships and establishing new ones. This camaraderie is an important part of being in a choir, which is something of a microcosm

of life in Christian community: voices joined in concord, partaking of the same Spirit/breath, bearing one another up as we practice, pray, grow, and travel on to our ultimate destination.

The trip also afforded us an opportunity to develop a stronger understanding of the always international and catholic nature of the Church. Canterbury (where we sang a short concert) was the site of the establishment of the Church among the Anglo-Saxons under Augustine, sent from Rome by Pope Gregory the Great when the

Church in the West was still fully in contact and communion with that of the Eastern Empire, and its see has been occupied by Roman, Saxon, Norman, Welsh, and even Greek archbishops; it is now of course the focus of unity of a worldwide communion of daughter Churches including our own. Beverley (where we sang Sunday Eucharist) and Ely (another concert) originated as Saxon monastic houses in the eighth century; York was the home of Alcuin, Charlemagne’s ‘minister of education’, and only one of many from the Isles to have a profound influence back on the Continent during that era; Lincoln (where we sang Choral Evensong twice) was an early Norman foundation later rebuilt by a French Carthusian; and the history of St. Giles’ (where we sang our first concert), being in Scotland, is both linked to and separate from that of the Church of England and of Anglicanism in Scotland and thus the United States. The wide reach of the Church, with

all the challenges and opportunities it brings, is certainly nothing new!

The Church is nothing, though, apart from its members, whose presence we felt everywhere, whether great leaders, pastors, teachers, religious, or martyrs, or quieter witnesses to the faith, who had lived and sometimes died in the places we visited: from those remembered in the Calendars of Churches including our own (such as Archbishops of Canterbury St. Augustine, St Anselm, St Dunstan, St Alphege, St Theodore of Tarsus, St Thomas Becket, Thomas Cranmer,

William Laud, and William Temple; or St Hugh and Robert Grosseteste, Norman Bishops of Lincoln; or Lancelot Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester, buried at Southwark, where we

ended our tour with Choral Evensong), to those important in past times if less well known today (such as St Etheldreda [Audrey] of Ely and St John of Beverley, founders of monastic houses, whose shrines were important pilgrimage sites in the Middle Ages), to those unknown thousands who have prayed and made pilgrimages and lived lives of faith in these places. Musicians important to our tradition also served in these places: Byrd at Lincoln; Tye, Amner, and T.T. Noble at Ely; John Scott at Southwark (the last two of whom went on to serve the famed St Thomas Church in New York). Though the Communion of Saints always surrounds us, ‘to kneel / where prayer has been valid’ for so long, to borrow Eliot’s phrase, is a powerful experience indeed – and one that can help us to recognize that ‘great cloud of witnesses’ even our relatively young corner of the Church.

A DEEPER COMMUNION

Eric Mellenbruch can be reached at eric@gsaustin.org

“...we found a deeper sense of communion with one another,

with the Church, and with God.”

Joy & Wonder | Worshiping

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Vacation Bible School is a rite of passage for children growing up in the church, helping to define a child’s connection to his or her church family and faith life. Friendships are created and already existing friendships are strengthened. Despite the ways in which VBS may change over the years, the themes remain the same: teaching our children that Jesus loves them; teaching them to love their neighbor as themselves; and encouraging them to share God’s love. At Good SHepherd, we call our VBS “Shepherd Camp” and the children on campus during that special week remind all involved of the simple joys that surround us every day. The way these children - these incredibly bright and wonderful children - approached each day of Camp with eyes and arms wide open, was a reminder of how blessed we are in this life and how blessed we are here at Good Shepherd.

Last August, a group of parishioners began meeting weekly in the Conference Room weekly to begin the Shepherd Camp planning. The highly capable and energetic group slowly came to know every child: from the child with the gluten allergy, to the one who just plain didn’t want to eat popcorn. When June came, there would be 172 children that attended Shepherd Camp, and every single one of those children was already in the arms of caring and compassionate leaders before setting foot on Good Shepherd’s campus.

This year, two exceptional leaders directed the Shepherd Camp Design Team: Becka Swift and Laura Van Slyke. The rest of their squad included Missy

Allen, Melissa Castelluccio, Heather Chesney, Merideth Jones, Sarah Pollan, Anitra Richardson, Jennifer Roossien, and Mary Margaret Wippo. It’s near impossible to convey how outstanding this group of leaders is, and the amount of work they did. Risking that they may now be approached to lead every parish and/or community event in Austin, it is not an understatement that this group of women was nothing short of extraordinary, planning and executing one of the most outstanding Shepherd Camp’s to date.

This year’s theme was Operation Overboard: Dare to Go Deep with God! On Sunday, June 24, the leaders and

youth transformed the Parish Hall into an underwater ocean of adventure. Children spent each morning singing, attending classes of art, drama and science, and closing each day with a final music and worship service. The energy of both volunteers and children was unrivaled and no detail was spared. From the breezeway to the Parish Hall, to every nook and cranny on campus, it was clear from the get-go that this would be no ordinary VBS (just ask Sondra Ryan, who hasn’t skipped her role as choral leader for GS’s Shepherd Camp in over twenty years!). The following Sunday, the children came together to sing for the 10:00a worship service. In an e-mail to the children’s parents following that service, Sondra Ryan wrote, “I have been overwhelmed with compliments from

our older parishioners. Many told me how they were moved to tears, so very touched, what a wonderful gift to the congregation! I know you parents loved getting to see your children but I just wanted you to know how very pleased everyone else in attendance on Sunday was by the presentation of our children and youth.”

The Shepherd Camp design team was incredible, but nothing would have been possible without the countless volunteers who led each class, taught science and art, did theatrical reenactments from the Old Testament, and all the rest. More than 100 parents and PWOCAH’s (Parents Without Children At Home)

volunteered their time. What a joy to see Glenda Goehrs so vividly telling the biblical stories in Drama . What fun to see Nancy Buford and our new Priest for Mission, the Rev. Mary

Koppel recreate Noah’s Ark while the children marched onto the playground, two by two.

The focus on children and youth of Good Shepherd has played an increasingly important role in the life of our parish in recent years. This year launched JAM (“Jesus And Me”), Camp in addition which would not have been possible without the commitment and vision of Ashley Fowler. It became clear last summer that our 3rd, 4th & 5th Graders were in need of a different curriculum than the three to eight year olds attending Shepherd Camp. This summer, thirteen Jam Campers headed out on a different Austin adventure each morning with the Rev. Kathy Pfister behind the wheel. The group traveled to Mt. Bonnell, Ink Lakes Cavern, Micah 6

SHEPHERD CAMP: 2012

This year’s theme was Operation Overboard: Dare

to Go Deep with God!

Discovering | Joy & Wonder

Good Shepherd “Goes Deep with God!”

24

Pantry, Deep Eddy Pool and Dart Bowl. To and from the destination, the group studied a bible passage of the day and discussed a different spiritual theme.

This fall, JAM Session, a weekly fellowship and bible study program for this same age group will return, and led again by Ashley Fowler. All of us look forward to this new day of ‘tween ministry at Good Shepherd and believe there is great opportunity for growth within this age group.

The commitment of parishioners

to Good Shepherd never ceases to impress me. Whether it is the Shepherd Group planning team, the Stewardship Committee, or the Building Program Task Forces, the level of dedication is unwavering. Moreover, a common standard of excellence can be seen in all aspects of our parish’s life. I rejoice seeing parishioners take ownership over a project that makes such a powerful and lasting impact. This kind of involvement produces a ripple-like effect, impacting not only the children attending VBS,

but impacting all of us; the clergy, the staff, the parish, and beyond (even those working across the street at Caesars and Texaco watched the Rev. Morgan Allen lead games each morning on the church’s lawn. As a parish, Shepherd Camp 2012 reminded us that we are all in this together; reminded us that we are a part of a greater mission; and reminded us that God has a greater plan in store for us all. Thanks be to God!

Sallie Wright Milam can be reached at swmilam@gsaustin.org

Joy & Wonder | Discovering

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As the new Associate Pastor for Youth I am learning there are a few things this Baptist will learn in an Episcopal world. My learning began in my interview for this job when I was asked, “so you’ll be ordained at Calvary Baptist Church in D.C. but will you be able to work for us?” At this point I realized being an ordained Baptist pastor at an Episcopal church was going to be a new experience for both Good Shepherd and for me. In light of this new experience, I thought it might be helpful to share my ordination with my new church family.

I entered seminary thinking I would use my dual social work and divinity degree in the non-profit, community - organizing, or social work realms. It was half way through my graduate career I began to acknowledge the call to pastoral ministry, a call I had been qualifying and quantifying and ignoring since my senior year of high school. As I slowly came to acknowledge this call to pastoral ministry, I began to settle into the skills and gifts within my internship at Calvary Baptist. Within supervision for both of my degrees and in mentoring with the pastoral staff at Calvary, I began the examination process which eventually led to the formal development of my Ordination Council.

The composition of my ordination council included church members from all aspects of the work I had completed at Calvary, as well as church members who saw how I cared for myself outside of “normal” church duties. In total my council numbered nine church members, two of whom were pastors of

the congregation. In our initial council meeting they asked questions of my faith identity, my call to ministry, my theology of the church, and my pastoral ethos. After the council deliberated they presented me with three categories they wanted to have me articulate in greater depth or clarity. This portion of my ordination process took shape in an eighteen page paper that council members read before our next meeting, making my final meeting with the council one of the most nerve-wracking events of my life! The questions presented at this time surrounded my frustration with the institutional church and my return to Baptist life; how I understand Christ being fully human fully divine; how humanity is made in the image of God; what atonement is and how it

works within the biblical narrative; how my social work training and seminary training might work together; and why sin and suffering persist in the world (light and simple questions!). My council deliberated once again, and then called me to hear each member’s vote on my ordination. At the conclusion of all the votes’ the Senior Pastor informed me that my council had unanimously approved for my candidacy to move on to be voted upon by the Church Council. I exhaled a sigh of relief, thanksgiving, and joy, that was large enough to fill five sets of lungs. Over the months to come I learned the Church Council had approved my

ordination and moved it to be voted on by the whole congregation. On the Sunday when the church would be vote, I found myself breathing slowly as I waited for the outcome. Within seconds of the vote I received text messages from those present at the church business meeting who informed me Calvary Baptist Church in Washington, D.C. had approved my ordination to Gospel Ministry. Upon hearing this news, I’d be lying to say there was not a dance of joy taking place in my house.

Having graduated from seminary and having received approval from all necessary church bodies, I made my way with family and friends to Washington, D.C. the week of July 8, 2012. My ordination weekend experience abounded with love, blessing,

and commissioning. The ordination took place during the Sunday morning worship service. I took my vows at the altar alongside members of my council

before the congregation laid their hands on me, and I presided at Communion.

After first feeling called to pastoral ministry in the 12th Grade my calling culminated in this beautiful service at calvary. Now I join you all here at Good Shepherd with the great joy of being a Baptist in an Episcopal world as I walk alongside your youth in their spiritual formation. I look forward to all the lessons I will learn while I serve here at with you.

A BAPTIST IN ANEPISCOPAL WORLD

“...I’d be lying to say there was not a dance of joy taking

place in my house.”

By The Rev. Morgan Caruthers

Morgan Caruthers can be reached at mcaruthers@gsaustin.org

A Baptist in an Episcopal World | Joy & Wonder

26

The Rev. Morgan Caruthers enjoying a moment of levity.

JOURNEY OF FAITHIn the spring of 2011, I was working as the Family Ministry

Coordinator at Christ Church in Alexandria, Virginia. I had been raised in the Episcopal Church, was an active youth, and believed church life was important. However, I couldn’t have said that I saw God in the work I was doing with the church. Throughout my youth, those kinds of comments (seeing God or feeling God’s presence) had always left me perplexed; I took them literally and I could not relate. I had not seen God anywhere. I believed in God but I had not had an experience where I could honestly say I had seen God.

I hadn’t seen God in Children’s Chapel or Sunday school as a five year-old. God didn’t seem to be in my children’s choir when I was eight or even on the altar when I was ten years-old. I went away to see God in Richmond, Virginia on a weekend youth trip when I was fifteen. I did not see anything. I went farther away to Jamaica as a seventeen year-old on a service trip with my youth group and saw many things but not God - or so I thought.

I looked forward to the afternoon trial-run youth event: Club 45’s outing to help the Lazarus Ministry followed by bowling. The plan: To take the Fourth and Fifth Graders to Wal-Mart to shop for Christ Church’s Lazarus Ministry, a Tuesday/Wednesday Food Pantry and Outreach Program for residents of Alexandria housed at Christ Church.

The idea for Club 45 came from discussion and observation that the ‘tweens needed an opportunity to get involved with the church before they got to middle school and scheduled their time elsewhere. We had twelve youth, a one hundred dollar budget, and several adults supervising. I assumed that we would go over budget. I assumed that there would be complaints about who was riding in which car, with whom, and that the trip was boring. I had labeled this a fun event for ‘tweens that, with any luck, would result in a few groceries for the Lazarus Ministry. I quickly realized that I had underestimated the group. I also hadn’t prepared myself for what I would finally see. After twenty-five years, I could finally see God in the work that was being done.

For me, God was everywhere on that trip to Wal-Mart. As we walked up and down the aisles, I watched the group of youth split up the list to work together to figure out which was

the best deal so that they could help more people. I observed two of the youth recalculate the budget 3 times to make sure we didn’t go over the budget. I heard youth asking serious questions like, “Why are we buying meat in a can?” “Should the food be organic?” No one escaped to the electronics section of the store and no one asked me if it was time to leave yet.

The group loved the discussion about why the work was important, and they wondered aloud about God’s role in our shopping trip. The outing set into context what they were learning in the classroom on Sunday mornings and breathed some much-needed enthusiasm into what it means to be a Christian...and not just for them, but for me. Looking back at my experiences in church as a youth, I realized that God had

been present: God was present in Children’s Chapel, Sunday school, and on the altar when I was an acolyte. Not only at church but throughout my childhood and young adulthood God had been with

me, but I had been unable to get past the literal phrase - seeing God.

My ‘tween ministry experience transformed my understanding of ministry and strengthened my commitment to God. While I still struggle at times to articulate my relationship with God - the language does not come easily to me - that ‘tween ministry experience strenghtened and clarified my vision of God and gave me words to give my faith a voice.

Just as that Sunday afternoon at Wal-Mart with Club 45 marked a rite of passage in my faith journey, I hope that the children of Good Shepherd will, in the short term, enjoy fellowship as they grow in their own faith. I in the long-term, I hope they will look back fondly on their time at Good Shepherd as important rites of passage in their own faith journey, and I look forward to walking with them along the way.

By Jolyn Hecht

For me, God was everywhere on that trip to Wal-Mart.

Jolyn Hecht can be reached at jolyn@gsaustin.org

Joy & Wonder | Serving

29

Melissa is my best friend: I’ve known her since preschool. She saved me a seat on the bus the first day of first grade, and we sat together for the next twelve years. After school most every day, we’d bike back and forth between our houses, sometimes sneaking off to buy candy that we weren’t supposed to have... and then eating it surreptitiously along the banks of Lake Pontchartrain. We saved popsicle sticks in an effort to raise money for our cause- our self-formed club of two - The Plant and Animal Care Club. On rainy afternoons we crooned along to “The Surry with the Fringe on Top” from the musical Oklahoma on Melissa’s record player - acting out the parts with youthful abandon. “Chicks, and ducks and geese better scurry” indeed.

She was a best friend, the best a girl could have. And when it came time to buy her a birthday present or a Christmas present, I always wanted to get her something special, an amazing gift that would somehow capture how dear a friend she was to me. She is the first person, other than my mother or father, for whom I can remember having such a generous impulse. My desire to give to her came from some place deep inside of me, an expression of love and gratitude.

This generous impulse, however, did not always sit so well with my father. As a child, my parents did not require me to spend my small allowance on gifts for friends. Rather, I did the picking and my dad did the spending. Gifts for friends had a clear and established price point of $10.00. While by 1980s standards this was certainly a fair and reasonable standard, $10.00 would not buy the white rabbit fur muffler that I believed Missy just had to have (and would certainly have cause to employ in New Orleans, Louisiana.) Neither would $10.00 stretch to purchase

the Bermuda button purse from Perlis on Magazine Street, nor the denim jacket with the puffy satin hearts. So, every year, when the time came give Melissa a gift, I would argue this case with my father.

I would argue the unique and sacred status of my friend, list the amount of time we spent together, and recite her virtues. Like a good parent, Dad would point out that friendship was gift in itself and cautioned that I never try to buy friendship. I retorted with the firm conviction that I was not buying a friend but celebrating a friendship. Back and forth we would argue, until we arrived somewhere above the standard price point, but generally not as grand as I had hoped. Once, at the

end of one of these long negotiations, my father remarked: “I love the way you are so generous with my money”.

It was a throw away comment really, but it hit home. He was right: it is easy to be generous when what we give away isn’t one’s to begin with. I did not recognize it at the time, but my generous heart, my impulse to give was made possible by the gift of a loving father who had shared his gifts and blessings with me. I realized that day who the real giver was: my Dad. For a second, I glimpsed my father in a new light and with a twinge of shame; I recognized that I was not entitled to the contents of his wallet. I began to understand what it meant to be thankful.

My desire to give my friend a special present, to be generous, stemmed from my gratitude for our friendship. It was a good and proper impulse. But it was an incomplete generosity because it didn’t take into account the source of the offering.

True inspiration to give and be

generous occurs when we realize that all we have and all that we are is a gift from God. Even if I had earned the money I used to purchase Melissa a gift, it would still have been a gift to me. All that we are, our remarkable capacities, our myriad talents, our community connections, our bountiful resources are gifts from a loving Father. When we recognize that the God of Love is the source of our living, our moving and our very being, we experience a gratitude that inevitably leads to a good and proper desire to give.

Shifting our consciousness from entitlement to gratitude, as happened in my conversation with my father, is often an uncomfortable process. It is also a

liberating one. Entitlement is ultimately an attitude of lack, a focus on what one is missing rather than on what one has been given.

Entitlement leaves us trapped in spiral of nomadic desires that acquisition cannot ultimately satisfy. Gratitude, on the other hand, is an attitude of abundance, whereby the heart is freed, not only to give generously but also to receive rightly. When we are grateful, we are open to the grace and provision of our God. We receive what we have with a sense of joy and fulfillment.

The opportunity to be generous with what we have been given abounds, and indeed our loving Father wishes us to be generous with the gifts he has given us. I’m a big girl now, but I can still be challenged by my own sense of entitlement. For me this means I must first remember from whom all my blessings flow and cherish what has been offered me. It is then with a grateful heart that I am ready to give.

LEARNING TO GIVEBy The Rev. Kathy Pfister

The Rev. Kathy Pfister can be reached at kathyp@gsaustin.org

“I love the way you are so generous with MY money...”

Giving | Joy & Wonder

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The Rev. Kathy Pfister with her father

Joy & Wonder | Giving

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TIME TRAVELLING WITH THE BODY OF CHRIST:How the People of the Way Became the Church of Today

If you always wanted to know how we Christians got where we are(and perhaps even discover where we are) then this is the forum for you.

Come and see and hear!

Good Shepherd Parish Hall

BEGINNING SEPTEMBER 16, 201210:40- 11:20 most Sundays.