Strangers, Angels, Visiting Firemen

Strangers, Angels, Visiting Firemen

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”—Hebrews 13:2, NRSV.

Early in our medical careers, as my husband and I had the opportunity to help develop departments at Arkansas Children’s Hospital, we constantly recruited out-of-town physicians looking for positions in our specialties for several weekends a month.

We also had three small children we wanted to be with, especially on the weekends. So, we usually took our children with the visitors on tours of Little Rock and treated them to lunches in the afternoon. We often ate at a hotel restaurant with an indoor glass elevator and escalators. When the children had enough recruitment entertainment at lunch, they entertained themselves by making several birds-eye-view trips up and down the hotel elevator and escalators.

I don’t know if this term is still in fashion, but we would identify the visiting physicians to our children as “visiting firemen.” The phrase is still a well-used part of our family vocabulary.

Many of these “visiting firemen” indeed became “angels unawares,” as the King James Bible translates this verse from Hebrews. We had no idea how we would be able to work with those we were recruiting, but we took a leap of faith, and they changed and healed children’s lives, and influenced us as well.

They helped us put out fires when the politics of medicine reared its ugly head. They taught us by their presence how grateful we were for them every day as we tried to solve,  identify, and change the course of children’s diseases, consulting with each other in community rather than making decisions by ourselves. Their presence and wisdom changed me from an anxious person to a grateful person. They brought with them peace, one of the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5.

The most significant accumulation of strangers we now meet is at St. Mark’s food pantry. But soon they, as well, are no longer strangers. Many, indeed, are angels. They ask for prayer, but know how to pray better than we do. They have very little, but they share it with others. Many bring their neighbors who cannot drive. They repeatedly tell stories about how blessed they are. Perhaps this is a sign of an angel who lives in gratitude.

I share with spiritual friends that I have learned most often from strangers that gratitude is a path to our soul and the God within us.

If you or a loved one became sick during this pandemic, you indeed met many strangers who were angels, unaware. But we don’t need to get sick to see the angels. They bring our mail. They work in our grocery stores, pharmacies, and food pantries.

Today, we also remember Macrina Wiederkehr, who died near this time in 2020. Her book, Tree Full of Angels, speaks to what we are all trying to write about.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

aln a Maine Manner of Speaking

aln a Maine Manner of Speaking

Guest Writer: Ken Fellows

                             Tourist: “How far is it to Portland?”

                  Maine Farmer: “The way you’re headed, about 30,000 miles …

                      with some stretches of pretty bad wheelin’.

Maine Porch Railing. Ken Fellows

     When we moved to our home in Kittery, Maine, years ago, I was charmed by local speech … words like “Sat’day” for Saturday or “barse-ackwards” for reversed) and colloquialisms (“go’in over town,” “right as rain”). I was also smitten by our new neighbors’ comments, so often cryptic, wry, and ironic. But it was the short, off-kilter conversations I found most beguiling. 

    My first encounter with local brevity came during the building of an addition to our Kittery house. A muscular, middle-aged Mainer, perspiring and frustrated, was trying to back a huge cement truck along the confining edge of a new foundation. A stunted, bushy tree next to his truck was another vexing obstacle.

Assuming I could help, I shouted up to him: “I don’t care much about that tree.” The driver whipped around to glare down at me from the truck’s cab. Clearly annoyed, he loudly deadpanned: “Neetha’ do I.” Reflecting on that brief exchange, I marveled how that Maine truck driver, in just three little words, had expressed his extreme contempt for my help, established me as an irritating interloper, and effectively curtailed any further distractions from the gallery. Our future relationship had been established.

     A graying lobsterman, Henry M., lived in a house backing on ours. He was an extreme example of Maine reticence. He was a thin, spry man, polite but taciturn. He often left products of his fishing on our doorstep but never knocked on our door or ventured to stop in when we were obviously at home.

He waved from his yard but rarely spoke. I suspect he wanted to be neighborly but was inhibited by our being “from away” and perhaps also embarrassed by our age and background separation. He was probably a treasure trove of Maine lingo and local stories, but his shyness prevented my gathering any samples.

     A 60-year-old lobsterman, Bud S., lived next door. His relationship with us over many years was quiet and remote but never unfriendly. We met occasionally on our adjoining creekfront lots, he repairing his lobster boat while I fussed over a dock with landing-float I was building. I was always impressed by his reticent speech and calm demeanor bordering on indifference. He never initiated a conversation, and his responses to questions were mumbled and abbreviated. Yet, I found his persona intriguing and amusing … a quintessential Maine character. His bearing always initiated an uncharacteristic calmness in me.

      Having arrived back in Kittery after a long winter, one sunny April day, I was devastated to discover the floating-raft section of my new dock gone. I assumed it had washed down tidal Chauncey Creek and out to sea during wintery high tides. Bud happened to be there painting his boat for the next fishing season at the waterside. His back to me, he remained thoroughly engaged in his work and characteristically mute as I loudly voiced my anger and frustration.

Through at least 10 minutes of my uninterrupted, distraught whining about my loss and the expense of building another raft, Bud concentrated on this painting, nodded once or twice, but never turned around. Exhausted and deflated, I finally turned to leave.

Without expression, and in his usual laconic tone, Bud abruptly muttered: “Well, you could build anotha’ one, I suppose (pause ….), but my cousin down the cri’ck saw your raft floating by some weeks ago and hauled it up on his beach (pause) …  I could help haul it back whenever you like.”  And so, another Mainer had let a ‘new-be’ stew awhile before generously offering needed information and help.

     Maine lingo –it’s often reluctant, on target, exasperating, and amusing, all in the same mumbled breath. It slows city folk down, lowers their voices, and encourages their consideration and reflection. It makes them more accepting and a lot easier to deal with.

Ken Fellows

Joanna. . https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Mystics' Teaching about God's Presence

 Feeling or Knowing God’s Presence, Mystics

“But the fruit of the Spirit is ‘love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.’ Against such things, there is no law.”—Galatians 5:22-23.

Modern mystics

I recently met with an amazing group of people searching for God in their lives. Several questions were asked: “How do you know you are in relationship with God? How do you know God’s presence? How do you know God is speaking to you?”

I have always been skeptical of people who tell me, “This is what God told me to do.” I do not know the voice of God until after something has happened, never before.

However, I have learned that I may be doing God’s will if I feel the presence of the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

Christian Mystics

We can also learn from the experience of others who were deeply aware of the presence of God. They are called Christian mystics. They could more clearly see God’s love and presence all around them, and within others and themselves.

 Richard Rolle, the 14th-century English mystic, describes being in relationship with God when he feels a physical warmth in his body, is aware of God’s sweetness, and experiences heavenly music as he chants the Psalms. I know music touches our soul, and the sweetness and warmth Rolle feels may be from one of the fruits of the Spirit.

I have heard others say they have a gut feeling of assurance when they think they are doing God’s will. Another common experience of the presence of God occurs when we are in nature, where we feel the presence of something greater than ourselves. Others may learn more about the presence of God when they become ill or lonely or are suffering or dying. Many experience God in prayer.

Orthodox Women Mystics

Experience tells me that people of the feeling (F) type in the Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator may be more inclined to develop this relationship experience with the Divine. But I also know that thinking (T) people can experience this presence and assurance through logic and truth in research and reading.

The approaching summer is a good time to read about the mystics and find your favorite one. I hope to spend the summer with Hildegard of Bingen listening to her music.

[See Ursula King, Christian Mystics: Their Lives and Legacies Throughout the Ages (HiddenSpring, 2001).]

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com