Faith

Martha’s Blues

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“Are you a Martha, or a Mary?”

How many times have I heard this question asked? I’ve no doubt said it a few times myself. I recently read an insightful commentary (on Instagram, go figure) that touched on the heart of the matter in Luke 10, when Jesus visits the home of his friends Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha is busy serving, and Mary is sitting down, listening to Jesus.

I will readily admit to being Martha. After all, somebody has gotta get this s**t done.

The point made was that it wasn’t a situation of Mary = good, Martha = bad. Martha was in her expected role, and provided a great service with her hospitality. She fed Jesus and his followers and made them comfortable and welcome. She provided a safe and welcoming place for the ministry; a refuge from the world where disciples could sit and listen attentively.

The problem was that Martha was anxious, distracted, and focused on something other than Jesus’ message. She was serving, but not with an open heart and open ears. Even something as inspiring and awe filled as Jesus sitting in her home and teaching became something stressful.

Martha did what had to be done, and what WAS the right thing to do. But Jesus did point out, very gently, that spiritual discernment is a “better portion.” There’s a saying “let go and let God,” which reminds us that we DON’T have to try so hard. Maybe we can keep doing what we need to do, but focus our minds more on Spirit than on matter.

Because s**t still gotta get done.

Christ at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus Jacopo Bassano c.1577, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston TX

I joke that my title at work is She Who Does That Which No One Else Will Touch. Computer headaches, dealing with AT&T (and other assorted technology), tracking down clients who are slow in paying, insurance, HR, figuring out assorted regulatory compliance, you name it.

It’s a far cry from the career path I’d started on a few decades ago: Licensed Clinical Social Worker. I keep my license current and do “a few things,” but life interfered and I found myself in the family business because hey – family needed me.

I’ll be honest – there are days when I throw up my hands and say “WHAT am I doing?” There are days when I just want to run away from the world of management and regulations and go back to being a Social Worker. Please don’t make me deal with nonfunctional technology; can I just go back to dealing with serious mental disorders and a few garden variety neuroses instead?

I often wonder if I’m making a difference or helping anyone in this role, and I start to feel like Martha. Frustrated, overworked, unseen, not enough help and not really able to help. Why did I sign on for this?

Well…because of love. Like Martha, I sometimes need a nudge in the “discernment” department. I do this because I love my family. I love what my parents built, and what we continue. I care about our employees, and I care that we have built a good, supportive place to work. I love those days when I look around and think “wow, we really have some good people here.” We are blessed.

I wasn’t familiar with the website that posted that commentary on Instagram; http://www.qava.tv . A quick online check tells me they are a Christian streaming service, offering a wide variety of programs. Thanks, Qava folks, for this thought provoking commentary. It hit me when I needed a reminder that we all need a balance of Martha’s action and Mary’s attentiveness.

Some years ago I wrote a song called Martha’s Blues, focusing on…well, you can probably figure out what it’s about. Pity poor Martha, she’s got the blues; housework fights forever and you’re always gonna lose. It’s a part of the Women at the Well program, and the last time I performed it was at an event honoring the memory of my late music partner Joshua “Bubba” Murrell. It’s always been one of my favorites from that program, and you can listen to it here. Since Covid, we hadn’t been able to do many Women at the Well programs, and I miss that. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to present the program on my own? I wonder what Martha and Mary would advise?

A String and a Prayer

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A String and a Prayer is the title of a cool little book by Eleanor Wiley and Maggie Oman Shannon. I got it years ago during a period where I was having fun with beads. The book is about making – and using – prayer beads, and I was reminded of it as I recently brought home a set of prayer beads that really spoke to me.

Prayer beads have been around for a long, long time. Here in south Louisiana, prayer beads = Rosary. As someone who grew up Roman Catholic, I have several rosaries. I live not far from a place called “The Rosary House,” which carries what may well be the world’s largest selection of handmade rosaries. The folks who work there and make these rosaries are true artisans, and they view their job as a ministry. No matter what your faith, there’s a special energy in anything made by hand, particularly if it has some spiritual weight, so to speak. (Prayer shawls are sort of like that. And all of my prayer shawls come with a bit of my hair, and my dog’s as well. Extra mojo, you might say.)

I was on a meditation retreat, and the bookstore had several mala bead sets. According to A String and a Prayer, “Most scholars believe that the use of prayer beads originated in ancient India with the Hindus…sandstone representations dating from 185 B. C. show people holding prayer beads…” The Hindu beads are called a mala and the strand traditionally has 108 beads. The set I took home is made of greens and golds, with bird-shaped accent beads. The tag read “when women were birds and knew all the songs.”

Clockwise from bottom: new beads “when women were birds and knew all the songs,” red handmade rosary, handmade Anglican prayer beads (made by the Community of St. Mary in Sewanee, TN and a gift from Deacon Diane Moore)

Well. How could I NOT get them, especially with a name like that? It also made me think…we all once knew all the songs, how did we forget them? How did we forget who we truly are, amazing souls enjoying an earthly journey?

I remember my grandmother (pop’s mom) spent her last years bedridden due to heart failure. It broke my heart to see her like that. I was in college at the time, and we lived a few hours away. While she was physically very weak, she was spiritually incredibly strong. Her eyesight was poor, so she couldn’t read or even watch television.

But – she prayed. Any requests we made, she prayed. She prayed my brother through law school, and me through college. She prayed for her family, and I suspect she prayed for patience and grace. Well, she received that in abundance. She was one of the greatest inspirations I’ve had, even though she left her earthly life several decades ago.

Anglican prayer beads aren’t like Catholic rosaries, and no, you don’t count off Hail Marys. I’ve used different prayers (or mantras) with them. The mala is used with mantras or with breath, but I’ve started doing something else with mine.

Each bead represents a person or thing or event in my life that I am thankful for. I name each person / thing, and no, it’s not written down (and it may change slightly each time). It’s amazingly easy to think of 108 (and more) people / things / situations / events that I am grateful for. Yes, I am blessed, and I am truly grateful.

I love it that we have three dimensional, tangible stuff that helps to keep us connected to Spirit. Hey, whatever works, right? Life can get crazy, stressful, hectic. Sometimes we’re so focused on surviving the day/traffic/AT&T headaches/someone’s meltdown that our Divine Connection can get a bit stressed. So…grab your prayer beads. Make a cup of tea (herbal if you’re stressed). Breathe. And say…thank you.

God-Stuff

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We are powerfully creative.

And why shouldn’t we be? We are made of God-stuff.

In the beginning, was the Word. Our Creator spoke everything into being and began the cycles of life and creation that would bring forth each atom, each spec of being, each human soul.

What, exactly, are we made of? Whatever term you want to use for the Divine Creative Mind – God – had only Divine Self. Everything is made of God-stuff, and we are made in the image of that Creator.

We can be active co-creators of life and of our pocket of reality. We always are, whether we want to be or not. I hate hearing the media calling anyone “victims,” for it implies powerlessness.

While some circumstances are certainly beyond our control (sometimes feces occurs), our reaction to circumstances isn’t. Terrible circumstances can take time to overcome, and some cannot be overcome in this world.

Yet – we can decide how to face circumstances.

I remember when I worked as a Clinical Social Worker on the oncology floor of a hospital. I was asked to see a woman who had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and was refusing chemotherapy. My mission was not to “try to change her mind.” Rather, it was to provide another set of ears. Her oncologist and nurses had already discussed the clinical aspects of her decision. I was there to discuss the psychosocial aspects of her decision. Years later, I remember her resolve – and her peace.

She didn’t have an attitude of “poor me.” Rather, she was peaceful, and felt that her quality of life was of primary importance to her and her family. She was also a woman of faith, and knew that life continued beyond the physical.

Her choice wasn’t to lie down and die; it was to live fully for as long as she could. Contrary to what some might say, she didn’t just let life wash over her. She knew that sooner or later, things would get better, and reminded herself of it constantly.

When we were faced with something painful, mom would remind us that “this, too, shall pass.” I remind myself that “things are getting better” because eventually – they do, even though our brains may scream in revolt at times. Working on this mindset also puts us in a mindset of gratitude.

Magically, things eventually do turn around. We recognize the blessings that we do have, focus more on them, and find other things for which to be grateful. Things get better.

Why? Because you, dear reader, are infinitely creative, and made of the same stuff that God is made of.

Image: Solar eclipse, August, 2017 © B. D. Lowry

Merry Christmas!

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Merry Christmas? But…it’s January 4!

Yep! And we’re still in the Christmas season. Epiphany isn’t until Monday, and my decorations are still up. It won’t take long to take them down, as I’ve simplified things over the years, but they probably won’t go back into the boxes until next weekend.

It was a nice Christmas, all things considered. The last few years were pretty lousy – three years ago, pop died. Two years ago, I broke my ankle and spent Christmas recovering from surgery (I won’t say it was “shattered” as my very talented orthopedic surgeon managed to find all the pieces of bone and reassemble them with some heavy-duty hardware), and last year my best friend and music partner died suddenly right before Christmas. This year, we lost mom – which should have made it another crappy Christmas.

But oddly – it wasn’t. Maybe it was because we all breathed a collective sigh of relief that she and pop were together again. Maybe it was because she wasn’t suffering any more. Maybe it was because we all realized that, as hard as it was, it could have been a lot worse.

And maybe – just maybe – this Christmas was a gift from the Holy Spirit.

Sure, we got a little weepy. We missed some people terribly. Mom had left some instructions for some personal gifts, which were given out. I’d like to think that mom was able to see everyone’s reactions. I do know I felt her presence – and pop’s, and Bubba’s – very strongly. Does it take the place of their being there “in the flesh?” Of course not. But because of Christmas – and Easter – we know we will be with them again. We know they are wrapped in love and peace.

And of course, there were some laughs: My brother continued the tradition of the rubber chickens. Once again, his ceiling (and it’s a tall one) is covered with little rubber chickens. It started a few years ago when he ordered a pack of small rubber chickens (you shoot them like rubber bands) from “slamazon” (as my friend Cathy J calls that big online retailer), intending for us to shoot them at one another like the overgrown kids we all are.

I’m pretty sure it was Bubba who first aimed a chicken at the ceiling. Or maybe Harris. Hey! They stick! And so a new holiday tradition was born.

Can you hear it? “Oh, we love to decorate the tree as a family on Christmas eve after we go to church, and then after Christmas dinner we go caroling! What do you do, Brenda?” “Oh, we crank up the air conditioning, build a fire in the fireplace, drink champagne and shoot rubber chickens at each other and at the ceiling.” Yep, that’s my family.

And among all of this craziness is family, love, and the peace of the Holy Spirit. I realize a lot of people struggle with Christmas. I have for years – so did mom; she said that she was reminded of all those she loved who had left this life. I do think she had a better Christmas this year, as did pop, Bubba, and all of our loved ones on the other side. #84 in the Hymnal 1982 sums it up beautifully:

May the peace of the Holy Spirit and the gift of the Incarnation be with you throughout the year. And don’t be afraid to say it: Merry Christmas!

Balconies

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Tomorrow is something unique to New Iberia, Louisiana: Beneath the Balconies. This delightful afternoon is filled with music and a stroll down the town’s historic Main Street, from one balcony to the next as a series of musical and entertainment vignettes are presented. I’ve attended as a guest/audience member before, and tomorrow I will be singing on the balcony at the Shadows-on-the-Teche in honor of my late brother-of-the-heart and music partner, Joshua “Bubba” Murrell. With the exception of one song at his memorial service back in December, it will be the first time I have sung any of “our” repertoire in public, with the prerecorded tracks, in public since his death. *Deep breath*

I’ll be honest – for a while, I didn’t feel much like singing. (If you know me, you know that is HIGHLY unusual.) What was the point? I couldn’t make it through Christmas Eve. This past year has been a beast, with losing Bubba and then mom. Prayer, meditation, and music have gotten me through.

Yes, the “not singing” didn’t last very long. Our friends “across the street” at First Methodist Church invited our choir to join them for a Lenten musical presentation, Dubois’ The Seven Last Words of Christ. This was what I sorely needed to take my mind (and soul) elsewhere. Then, invitations began arriving. “Would you sing for this?” When God can’t seem to get my attention in other ways, God knows that music will always do the trick.

My Creator put something inside of me that won’t be denied. A decent voice, and the drive to train it, practice, use it, and always search for improvement. People sometimes say “oh, what a gift!” Well, the gift is what God gave you in your vocal cords, and remember, God gave that to pretty much everyone. What you do with it is your gift to God. And you know what? God gave EVERYONE things that they love to do, and are halfway-decent-to-pretty-good at. We don’t all have to be “the best” at anything, but “the best I can be” and “better than I was before” brings a lot of joy.

What we choose to focus on to make better, to share…that is our gift to our families, our friends, our communities, our churches. I know some women who are amazing quilters and stitchers (I, on the other hand, would rather go to the dentist than sew anything). My sister-in-law makes incredible artwork in the form of metalworking and jewelry. My husband enjoys fishing, hunting, and always saying “yes” when a friend says “we gotta cook breakfast for this retreat group, you in?” Others have the gift of total listening and acceptance. Too often we look at what we feel we can’t do (or aren’t “good enough” at) instead of what we CAN.

This is, perhaps, what life truly is all about. It’s not always those mountaintop experiences or making huge ripples in the fabric of society, justice and change. More often, it’s regular everyday people who do what they love to do and use it to make someone else’s day a little easier. Tomorrow there will be dozens of people involved in performing, volunteering, cooking, cleaning and serving, and everyone will have fun.

Sometimes we forget that these simple things are most important. Social media can make us feel inferior, small, unseen. We see “influencers” who appear to be shaping the tastes and habits of others. (is it just me, or does anyone else find the fact that we now have an actual noun that describe people who are like, the grownup version of the Cool Kids?)

However you spend your Sunday, I hope you’ll find some time to do something you love with people you love.

It Is Well With My Soul

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Today is Mary’s 85th birthday. I’ve had the joy of knowing her – and singing alongside her – for about three decades now. Her birthday falls ON “Birthday Sunday,” the first Sunday of the month where we pray (and sing!) for those in the congregation celebrating birthdays in the coming month.

Leon chose an anthem arrangement of It Is Well With My Soul for us to sing, as it’s a favorite of Mary’s (the rest of the choir loves it too). She sang a beautiful solo on the first verse, and it was all I could do to come in singing when the rest of us joined in because it was so moving.

It is a hymn that bears special meaning, and when you know the story behind it, you can really understand why this song touches the spirit so deeply.

Horatio Spafford and his wife had already lost much – the death of a son, followed closely by the great Chicago fire and destruction of his business – all in the same year, 1871. Two years later, Spafford was planning a trip to Europe for himself and his family. A last minute problem with his business delayed him, but he sent his wife and children on ahead with plans to take another ship and meet with them in a few days.

The ship carrying his wife and four daughters was struck by another ship and went down. His wife survived, but his daughters did not. Spafford immediately went to join his wife, and it is said that he wrote It Is Well in the area where the ship carrying his family went down.

The melody, written by Phillip Bliss, is called Ville du Havre – after the name of the ship that went down.

After the tragedy, the Spaffords had three more children, with one dying of scarlet fever. They eventually moved to the Holy Land and led lives devoted to service.

Their story is incredible, as is their faith. It’s hard to imagine having such soul-ripping events – and still be able to say it is well with my soul. I don’t doubt that the Spaffords had moments of deep anguish and despair. But the words strike right at the core of what is most essential, and beautifully so:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

(And the final verse:)

O Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
the trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;
even so, it is well with my soul.

Source: https://hymnary.org/text/when_peace_like_a_river_attendeth_my_way

You may also find the hymn listed as When Peace Like a River.

Peace can be like a river – sometimes quiet, sometimes turbulent and nonexistent. But whatever my lot, there is refuge in God’s promise. This line that doesn’t appear in every hymnal:

No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

Sometimes that’s all it is, and all it takes; just hearing that whisper. We can cling to it as we would a raft in a turbulent river and hold on, knowing that somewhere at the end of that rope is peace, even if we can’t quite grab it yet. This is the promise of God, the promise of Christ, the promise of Love.

Happy birthday, Mary. And thank you for giving us a gift with your voice; a beautiful and heartfelt reminder that while hearts may be breaking and we may feel we’ve given up, it is still well with my soul.

Good Friday

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For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God. John 3:16-21

The good news of Christianity is that we are forgiven through the sacrifice of Christ; Jesus suffered and died for our sins and rose from the dead.

This is wonderful news!

But…I’ve always had a teeny, tiny problem with this. If God loves us so much, why did God demand a sacrifice to forgive us? That just seems a bit…conditional.

Forgive me if my sick sense of humor wanders into the realm of the near-ridiculous as I can’t help but imagine a hypothetical (and somewhat Monty Python-esque) conversation….

God the Father: Sheesh. LOOK at them, will you? I’ve given them commandments, guidance, a burning bush, manna from heaven, and STILL they screw up. I’m done with humans; they’re all fit for nothing but the burning pit of hell!

God the Son: Oh, come on, they’re not THAT bad. Give them a chance. Maybe eventually they will figure it out.

God the Father: Hm. I don’t know…but maybe I could be persuaded IF they made a big enough sacrifice. But it would have to be big – I’m really not happy about them.

God the Son: I don’t think they are capable of appeasing you. Tell you what – how about I do it for them?

God the Father: Hmmm. Well, let’s see. How about you become one of them? Like, become human.

God the Son: I can do that.

God the Father: And…not in a life where you’d be a crown prince or anything. I know! How about you become…hmmm, how about a carpenter?

God the Son: OK, I’ve always wanted to make things out of wood.

God the Father: You can teach them what they really need to know: How to treat and love one another. I gave them commandments, but they still mess it up. Oh, and throw in some miracles and healings so that they pay attention.

God the Son: I can definitely do that. Hey, how about turning water into wine? That sounds like a good start.

God the Father: But, in order for me to forgive them and bring them home to me, you need to die a horrible, dreadful, painful, excruciating death.

God the Son: Um. Ahhhh, you sure about that? Well. OK, if you insist.

[end of conversation]

Image: Detail of Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross, 1951

WAIT! Don’t call me a heretic just yet, but I can’t help but wonder. Permit me to offer an alternative (hypothetical, of course) conversation:

God the Father: I’m upset. I know I gave them free will, but this is getting ridiculous. Look at how my people are behaving!

God the Son: They’re NOT behaving.

God the Father: Exactly my point! I’ve given them commandments, prophets, examples – I mean, look at King David, for Your sake, he sent his best friend off to be killed in battle and still I blessed him. Why don’t they believe I love them? Why don’t they ACT like it?

God the Son: I think it’s called “human nature.”

God the Father: Yes, but I made them in our image and likeness! I set up this glorious world and they keep messing with each other. I just don’t know what to do to show them how much I love them, and how I would LIKE for them to treat each other. They love living in the darkness! They need to see the light!

God the Son: Light… LIGHT! I have an idea! I could go down there…

God the Father: Hmmm, that’s a thought! You could show them how to live, how to love one another, how to forgive…

God the Son: Yes, and add some miracles so they’d pay attention. I am the light of the world, after all.

God the Father: Absolutely. But – they are fickle. How many prophets have they seen doing miracles and issuing warnings? And still they’ve ignored them!

God the Son: Well, I have an idea that goes beyond anything any of the Prophets did. Let them kill me.

God the Father: WHAT?

God the Son: Seriously. They need a really, REALLY BIG example of just how much they are loved. They really won’t believe it any other way. If they think that the ultimate blood sacrifice – me – has been given for the forgiveness of their sins, they’ve got to listen, don’t you think? That would be a real, heavenly, cosmic slap-upside-the-head!

God the Father: Hm. Wow. You know, that’s really not necessary for us to forgive them, but –

God the Son: I know. We’re going to love them no matter what, and do everything possible to get them all home to heaven one day, some way. But this will be a shortcut. If they follow me, they are following God. If they look at how I live and see me as an example, follow me and accept my sacrifice, they will be bringing home the Kingdom of Heaven on earth!

God the Father: You know, this could be a way to bring all of my creation into my fold – not just the children of Israel.

God the Son: Can you think of a better way to show them that God suffers with them? Like, right along WITH them, when they suffer?

God the Father: No, I can’t. But…are you sure you want to do this? You know I don’t require anything to love and forgive humanity; but I want them to realize how much they are loved, and for them to show and live that love. Doing it like this will wake them up…but…it’s gonna be bloody. And really, really painful. Those Romans are a real piece of work. Sometimes I wonder if the whole free will idea was a mistake…

God the Son: Well, you said yourself how off track they are. They have ignored the commandments and have been hurting each other. And the Romans are bad enough – and what about those Pharisees and Saducees? They’ve missed the point! Anyway, do you think the people would pay attention to anything less than a really, really BIG sacrifice?

God the Father: Good point. But you know…seeing the Son of God die a horrible death can’t be the end of the story.

God the Son: We’re thinking the same thing —

God the Father: Well, of course – we ARE God, after all! After you’re “dead” and “buried,” you’ll come back to life! Resurrection!

God the Son: Yes! Their bodies die, but they’re not sure about what happens after that. I can show them that death and sin are conquered. Rising from the dead? They’ve GOT to pay attention to THAT! That will show them that through me, they have life eternal.

God the Father: Perfect. If this doesn’t wake them up, I don’t know what will.

God the Son: One last thing: In the Torah, there are a LOT of commandments. Maybe we could just…simplify it. You know, love God and love your neighbor. They do have short attention spans.

God the Father: You’re right. I always have had fun with Words…. Let’s get the Holy Spirit in on this plan and get started.

~~~~~~~~~

So, there you have it. This might raise an uncomfortable question: Did Jesus have to die?

We’re so used to saying yes, He had to die for our sins!

But wait – did Jesus have to die because God the Father demanded a sacrifice? Was it atonement?

Or did he have to die because we humans just would not believe or accept God’s love for us any other way?

You decide.

*disclaimer: The warped theology presented here is purely the musing of this author and not to be interpreted as any official stance produced from her Jesuit education (it’s not completely their fault I’m a bit heretical), Catholic school studies or 30 + years in the Episcopal church.

Godspeed, Bubba Murrell

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Eulogy for Joshua “Bubba” Murrell, given by Brenda Lowry at Church of the Epiphany, New Iberia, LA on December 19, 2023.

How could one possibly distill the essence of Joshua “Bubba” Murrell?
It’s a daunting task… in a beautiful poem (which I’ll read shortly) written by a friend, Gene Dugas, Bubba is described as a Teacher, a Brother, an Artist and Friend. I’ll add to that – he was also a Mentor, a bit of a Mad Scientist, and a Mystic.

Bubba was a Teacher. He had so much knowledge about so many things, and was happy to share his knowledge. We’d been friends since the early 80s, but we didn’t really get close until a little over a decade later after he’d moved back home to New Iberia. And that happened because I needed a teacher. I called him, needing some help with a song I was writing…and that call sparked a long friendship and musical / creative partnership. He was a Mentor to sooo many young musicians – AND to me and many other friends.

He was a Brother of the heart to me and many others. He became part of my family – and Gene, Jody, Phillip, and so many of you can say the same. He was always there for you (although often running a bit late). He was the guy who’d show up at family gatherings with something reallllly interesting…like a potato gun. Remember when potato guns were a thing in the late 90’s? Well, my husband David had built one; a perfectly engineered, pristine, gleaming potato gun made of PVC.

Bubba was inspired by this…so he created a Vegetable Relocation Device. A potato gun, yes, but painted in camoflage, with a laser scope and “magazine.” Then, these guys figured out you could shoot a potato with a flaming tail if you nailed steel wool to the potato. One evening they launched a flaming potato across the road….and caught the cane field on fire. Oops.


Bubba was an artist. He was an incredible musician who could play almost anything. We’d go to the NAMM shows (that’s a big music trade show) and Bubba would play everything he could get his hands on, and ask a million questions about software, new innovations, etc. His Grammy award was for production/engineering and he could team his technical gift with artistic vision. He composed instrumentals of rich, haunting beauty. He was a woodworker. He enjoyed playing with creative software – creating AI images, and virtual theme parks – just for fun. From Bubba, I learned that the creative process isn’t always about being serious – that it’s ok to be messy, and ok to have fun and be silly (and we all know…Bubba could be really, really silly sometimes.)


He never lost touch with his inner child. He approached the world with wonder, awe and curiosity. Now, his inner child was sometimes his OUTER child as well, but there was always method in his madness. He had a collection of stuffed animals because he found that they were more effective (and less costly) than acoustic foam in adjusting the acoustics of any space. Bubba was NEVER afraid to dive in and FIND WHAT WORKED. I’m surprised we don’t have a giant stuffed rabbit tucked up in the choir loft here to help with acoustics. (Several years ago we added harmony vocals to the Women at the Well material. We used his bathroom as a vocal booth, and I stood there and sang Gospel while looking at a Happy New Year teddy bear.)

Bubba at the Bike Festival in Abita Springs, La.


Bubba’s technical genius meant that he understood how things worked, and often improved on them. He’s probably rewiring the PA system in heaven right now. He took great care of our computer network at hoh-PAK, sometimes staying VERY late to work out a glitch or put Microsoft in its place. He configured and installed the sound system here at Epiphany, and kept our pipe organ tuned and repaired.

To some people Bubba could appear scattered (and late), but his mind worked in different ways and moved at warp speed. I’ve seen him hyperfocus – for example, when producing Terrance Simean’s Live! Worldwide CD…when working on our Blue Merlot CD…when moving the pipe organ that his dad had built from St. Peter’s church to its new home at the Community of Christ Crucified in St. Martinville. Bubba disassembled that organ, and oversaw the moving of it – pipe by lovingly wrapped pipe – and consequent reassembly, tuning and tweaking.


He was a bit of a mad scientist…Bubba tapped into this almost otherworldly river of creativity. He was a conduit for ideas and problem solving, and he shared those ideas freely. On more than one NAMM show occasion, we’d see an idea that Bubba had suggested to a company at an earlier show (for instance, a short guitar capo) being released as a new product. Were they inspired by Bubba, or was it one of those ideas floating around the cosmos, with several people tuning in at the same time? Either way, he was a visionary. He wanted – needed – to get ideas out there, and he had an endless supply of them.


What was SO much fun about playing music with him was that we both believed that the music should lead. Sometimes we’d work on specific projects – without him, the Women at the Well program would not have reached as many people as it did – and sometimes we’d just sit and play. Some of our fun projects over the years included Blue Merlot, a series of library and school concerts and presentations, Women at the Well concerts and tour, countless gigs as duo, trio, and full band, parody songs, silly songs (such as Yoo Mama Wears Army Boots) and improvisations that will live on in my heart.


Bubba was a Mystic – He had the soul of an artist, filled from a deep well of spirituality and nurtured by never-ending curiosity. He had a deep faith. I already miss our long conversations about God, life, salvation, and eternity. But he now knows the answers to the questions we would discuss. Whenever I’d feel a bit adrift and uncertain in my faith, I’d tell Bubba, “I’m a little weak in faith right now. Can I borrow some of yours?” and he’d always say yes…and he’d carry me through.


I’d like to share Gene Dugas’ beautiful poem with you. It’s called The Man with the Beautiful Mind:


The Brother, the Artist, the Teacher, the Friend;
His knowledge and talents seemed without end.
He heeded God’s call and left this world behind;
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.-

The Brother was faithful, funny and true
When you needed him most, he’d pull you through
With love and kindness he’d give of his time –
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Artist created a wonderful place
That was heard, seen and felt when you entered his space.
The sounds the sights and colors divine
From the man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Teacher was patient, thoughtful and fair.
Never greedy or selfish, his knowledge he’d share.
He took us along on his wonderful ride:
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Friend was so special to each and to all
But his time here was done, so he heeded God’s call.
He will surely be missed and we’ll shed a tear,
But he left without pain, without sorrow or fear.
So let us rejoice, and cherish the ride
That we took with the man with the beautiful mind.

Above all, Bubba was a friend. A friend to me, to my family, to all of you who loved him. He loved us back, and his faults are washed clean by his Savior. I’d like to share a thought Bubba wrote just a few months ago, about the word Godspeed. God invented light; God moves faster than light. God moves at the speed of love. We will miss you, dear friend; Godspeed. And we know that since your arrival…heaven will never be the same.

God’s…pronouns?

/ a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

Last week, someone sent me an article with the shocking title “Church of England considers abandoning Christianity.” Well, the CoE has done some wacky things, but this?

I ignored the sensationalist headline and read the article. There is upset that the CoE wants to use more “gender neutral” pronouns. This, the author says, goes against Jesus’ teachings, as He referred to God as “Father.”

I’m a bit wrung out with pronoun quibbling these days, so please forgive me for rolling my eyes a bit.

I can understand where the author is coming from. I also think there is a lot of energy going into something that is….well (IMHO), a bit petty. (Now, if you want to talk about some of the other things the CoE has focused on recently, go right ahead!! But this post will focus on the pronoun discussion. God’s pronouns, that is.)

I’ve never had a problem referring to God as “He.” (I also don’t freak out if you refer to God as “She…” and please bear with me before you scream “heretic!”) I don’t have a problem (at least not yet!) with so-called gender neutral language as long as it doesn’t get cumbersome. To me, “God” doesn’t imply gender one way or the other.

In my mind, to assign a pronoun to God is to attempt to humanize that which cannot be humanized. And it’s natural for us to do that, for how else are we going to wrap our simple brains around the idea of God?

“But Jesus called God his Father!” Yes, and how can we possibly argue with that? Of COURSE God is our Father! God is also our Mother. God is much, much more than we can imagine. And isn’t that glorious?

Jesus alone intimately knew the nature of God, and – I would suspect – realized that our feeble human brains could NOT possibly comprehend this nature. “Abba” summed it up. So did Father. (I wonder how the audience would have responded to Mother)

I also wonder about the response if Jesus had said “Father and Mother.”

Although…perhaps his listeners would have gotten that. They would have been familiar with this creation story in Genesis:

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

I’ve often encountered the supposition that the Holy Spirit is, in fact, feminine in nature. One could say that to categorize aspects of God as “male” and / or “female” is simplification. It is, but our human brains need simplification. And we naturally understand the aspects of male and female.

When you get down to it, we can’t fully know the mind of Jesus; but we can follow Him and study God’s word. While we can never (in this life, anyway) fully understand the whole nature of God, we can know that God is both Father and Mother, Creator and Birther, Redeemer and Comforter, a Glorious Mystery. We believe in the Trinity, and know that God is all of these and so much more. I really don’t think God will be offended if someone uses a wrong pronoun. Those pronouns are for our comfort. Remember: God often calls us to step out of our comfort zones.

This is just my opinion, but…to sum up God with a pronoun is like putting limits on what is Limitless, Eternal, and Beyond all Knowing.

Y’all keep on quibbling about pronouns, I’ll just continue to work on my relationship with God and pray for this broken world.

God’s Children are Not for Sale

/ a samaritan woman

God’s children are not for sale.

This is the message of the movie Sound of Freedom, which was released on July 4. Although I rarely go to the movie theater, I went yesterday afternoon with a group of friends to see it.

Sound of Freedom is based on a true story and on real people. The main character, Tim Ballard, is a Homeland Security agent who winds up rescuing a group of children who have been trafficked – no, let’s just say what it is: Sold into slavery. “Trafficked,” while certainly accurate (and useful as a broad term), is a bit too vague for what really happens. Slavery is more accurate; the selling of the body and soul of a human being, whether for labor or sex.

I’m not writing a movie review here, but I will say that the film was extremely moving and incredibly well done. The difficult parts (what am I saying? The whole movie is difficult) are handled in a sensitive manner – no children were exploited in the filming. The casting is amazing. Having a decent bit of acting under my belt, I can say that I stand grateful to and deeply impressed by the actors who were cast as the most vile and heinous of villains. They were horribly, dreadfully believable , and brought home the fact that yes, scum like this exists.

And that’s why it’s important to see the movie. It becomes impossible to ignore the fact that there are millions of people (and many of them children) being bought and sold throughout the world.

Shockingly, the movie has met with some controversy. I’m astonished at the online articles that approach the movie with a “yes – but” attitude. There is the token requisite “of course, child sex slavery is bad” followed by the “BUT….” It isn’t entirely accurate! Gasp! It didn’t happen exactly that way! And someone associated with the movie has read “QAnon!” Conspiracy theorists! Misinformation!! In real life, Tim Ballard’s daring mission was funded by Glenn Beck. Right wing extremist!! “Dangerous conspiracy theory!” “Cultural war battleground!”

Ah. OK, so if a movie takes some creative license and doesn’t stick exactly to all the facts, it’s bad. And if I don’t like something that one of the filmmakers or actors believes, the movie should be condemned. Right. (Darn, I was really looking forward to another Tom Cruise action flick….)

Really, Satan, is that the best you can do to attempt to discredit this?

And why in the world is this even becoming politicized? Do you really mean that we can’t all agree that exploiting and selling children as sex slaves is EVIL? Seriously?? Critics point out that “most children trafficked aren’t taken this way.” Does it matter how they wind up being bought, sold and used? (Perhaps one of the reasons for the politicization is that open borders do carry an increased likelihood of trafficking of all kinds. Hmmmmm, maybe we should look at that?) The tragic fact is that there are more enslaved humans today than ever before.

Sound of Freedom has made $125 million (so far) at the box office. This indie movie – with a measly budget of $14.5 million and a limited number of theaters – has used the power and artistry of the big screen to move and inform audiences in a deep and profound way. Yes, it’s a hard subject. Yes, it will hit you in the gut. Yes, you might cry.

And yes, you absolutely should go see it.

#soundoffreedommovie