Posted in Ministry, pastor

A visit to the nearby ends of the earth

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Earlier this week I made all my drop-in homebound visits. Time to move on to my “make an appointment” “spend a little more time” “sit down over a meal” visits. Today I headed out to see Mr. and Mrs. “H”, an appointment I made a few weeks ago, wedged in between many doctor appointments.

I’ve known the “H’s” for about twenty years, and they are my members who live the farthest from the church. They live about an hour drive from the church. For many years they faithfully made that drive to worship with us. But for the last few years, they haven’t been able to attend as often. It’s been eight months since they were able to make the drive.

I remembered the route today, so I didn’t need a GPS to get to their house. It’s a drive through a lot of undeveloped areas of north central Florida. I drove through wooded areas, potato farms. I passed a number of hispanic convenience stores and fern farms, as well as many, many small Baptist churches. Old Florida at its best, as if time stood still. I finally arrived in their small home not far from Lake George, a bass fishing mecca.

Both were actually doing better than I expected. I brought some subs with me for lunch, since in previous visits, they insisted on feeding me. I didn’t think they were up for that, but they still made some strawberry shortcake for dessert. Their little toy poodle was ecstatic to see me, but was relegated to her crate when it was time to get serious.

After about 40 minutes of small talk and extensive medical updates, I did a brief devotion, confession and absolution, and gave holy communion. While they were able to listen to religious programming via the internet, they do not have access to the sacrament, something very important to them. It’s a privilege to bring the means of grace to them.

We had a nice meal together, chatted a lot about possible assisted living scenarios, and caught up on neighbors and church family. One thing hasn’t changed. They have not lost their sense of humor. They never fail to make me laugh! That is their precious gift to me. Of course, I learned long ago that those I go to visit often minister more to me than I to them. They love to hear stories about what’s going on at church and how everyone is doing. I know they miss their church family!

After about two hours there, I thanked them for allowing me to come and headed home. The next time I see them will probably be at a hospital, since some surgery is on their schedule in a few weeks. Visits like this make me realize that some of the most faithful and devout members of a church are rarely able to attend on a Sunday morning. Also, God can create sacred space in the most modest of homes around Word and Sacrament. Finally, my physical presence means the world to them, connecting them with their church family.

It was a really good visiting day.

Posted in Ministry, visiting

Hospital visit day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Another part of pastoral care is visiting members in the hospital. By grace, all my visits today were at the closest hospital. There have been days when I have had visits in Jacksonville, St. Augustine and Daytona Beach. But today, I got to stay in my home town of Palm Coast.

I scored a parking spot right outside the main visitor entrance. But since they were painting that area, I had to walk all the way around to reach the doorway. I stopped at the front desk to ask one of the volunteers for a room number for “M”, whom I had seen in ICU two days ago. I had hoped that she had moved, but the very nice volunteer gave me the same room number.

I made my way to the elevator, but not before getting some disinfectant for my hands. I rode the elevator to the second floor and headed to the ICU waiting room. There I called and asked if I could visit “M.” They said, “Come on through.” “M” was there with her husband. She was doing just a little better than my last visit, but was far from being well. The ICU is not a place to stay for long, so I said a prayer with them and headed out. I said another unspoken prayer on the way out for her and for her caregivers. They can use all the help they can get.

I made my way out of ICU and down the hall to see “J” who had been recovering from surgery for the last four days. I hoped he would be just about ready to go home, but he was really having trouble breathing. His surgical site had healed well, but he needed more time to recover fully. I could tell he wasn’t feeling well, so I only stayed long enough to say a quick prayer. I left to let the nurses do their work.

In the seating area by the elevators, I sat to call “J’s” wife and let her know I had stopped by and to make sure she was doing OK. Nervous at first, she soon calmed as we chatted. She would soon be on her way to the hospital.

I thought I had finished my rounds for the day, but as I headed out to my car, I caught sight of a friend, a nurse, whom I had just prayed for this past Sunday. I stopped to talk to “C,” whom I hadn’t seen for a long time. I told her we had prayed for her in church the past Sunday. She brought me up to date on her own condition, her husband, and future treatments. It was a gracious and timely meeting, that was arranged by God. He often makes sure I am in the right place at the right time. And for that, I am thankful.

My visits were done for the day, but on my drive home I had a great conversation with Jesus about all that I experienced. It’s always good to debrief after my rounds.

Posted in Ministry

A (mostly) nursing home day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

One of the realities and responsibilities of my pastoral ministry is the cycle of visits to members who can’t get out to worship with us on Sundays. Once a month I endeavor to get to those we call “shut-in” or “homebound” to bring them Holy Communion. Some of them are in nursing homes, others in assisted living, and still others live at home. Sometimes I spread them out over the month, but today I decided I would get to all my nursing home members, plus one at home receiving nursing care.

They’re all spread out over two counties, so I started with the furthest away, about a thirty-minute drive from church. “J” has been in a care facility for about eight months now. I try to get there just as she is finishing her lunch and just before her husband arrives to spend the afternoon with her. She is eighty-six. He is ninety. I typically find her in the common room and sit and chat with her and other at her table. They are always curious to learn about me and share with me where they are from. But today, I found “J” in her room, dozing, with a full lunch tray in front of her. When I said her name, she woke and greeted me, glanced at her lunch and asked, “What is that?” I identified the broccoli and au gratin potatoes, but I wasn’t really sure what kind of meat was smothered in gravy. Anyway, she didn’t look that hungry. We chatted briefly about her youngest daughter who had just gotten married. Two nurses walked in and said that they had just called the ambulance to take “J” to the hospital for some tests and treatment. I knew my window of opportunity would be brief, so I gave her communion and prayed with her. Just in time. The EMTs arrived to transport her. Upon returning to my car, I let her husband know I had been there, where they were taking her, and reminded him he could call if he needed anything.

Next up was “M,” who had been in another care facility about twenty minutes away. As I arrived, she had just returned from getting a haircut. She put away some towels from the chair at the side of her bed and we visited for a while. She’s been there since last summer. Today we talked a bit about her love for the Orlando Disney attractions. That’s why she and her husband moved to Florida years ago. Sadly, he died soon after, but she and her family made frequent trips to Disneyworld. She can’t quite understand why her daughter left her there, a conversation we have each time I come to visit. She wouldn’t be safe alone, so I am thankful for the care she receives there. “M” shares that it’s been a busy day, and I sense she’s a little tired, so I read some scripture to her, give her communion and pray with her.

Visit number three was the home of “K,” who hadn’t gotten out much for about two years, since her husband died. If not for her two sons who lived there with her, she would have had to be in a nursing care center long ago. Their caregiving responsibilities had exponentially increased three months ago when “K” fell and injured her shoulder and wrists. About a year ago, since she had some issues using the phone, we agreed that I would just stop by once a month to visit. One of her sons greeted me at the door when I arrived, just as “K” was getting up from an early afternoon nap. She is always so glad to see me. After a few minutes of chatting about how she was doing, the conversation transitioned to her late husband and many other family members she missed but remembered. Her recollection of family history amazes me. Details of names, dates, occupations, locations and conversations poured out as “K” wove together a complex monologue. I know she was simply glad to have someone to talk to.

On to my final visit of the day, “C,” who has been in her care location for about 18 months. Her memory has waned, but she always knows me and makes me laugh. However, I know she will forget my visit just moments after I leave, so I write the date on my business card her bulletin board. Her husband, who comes each morning to see her, sees the communion cup and asks about our visit, which she never remembers. Today, her door was closed and I could hear lots of activity from the room, so I sat and waited in the hallway. After about ten minutes, two caregivers came out and it was my turn. I shared with her much about seasonal worshipers and visitors to our church. She just smiles and listens. After communion we pray and I head home.

Every three or four weeks, I step into their “homes” and worlds with the precious gifts of God’s grace. Today’s rounds took about four hours to complete. I probably spent more time driving than actually interacting, but I’ve learned to never underestimate the value of a visit like that. There is indeed power in the Word and the Sacrament to touch the heart of someone who will most likely see the Lord face to face sooner than I will. Each one reminds me of the blessing of caring for the least of these his brothers and sisters.

Posted in worship

Ants on the communion rail!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Ants may be some of God’s smallest creatures, but it doesn’t take many of them to cause a major panic in the house of the Lord, especially when they are crawling around on the communion rail during worship service. I didn’t witness them, but I sure heard about their invasion into sacred space!

OK, I’ll grant that it would break my concentration and meditation to feel insects crawling up my arm as I knelt at the altar. I don’t like gnats flying into my ears or buzzing around my eyes, either. Yes, just a few little bitty guys like that can ruin a whole worship service.

Where in the world did they come from? We saw no obvious line marching in from a crack or a window. Fortunately they weren’t fire ants. But then an astute pest control professional/member noticed a stream of the insects from the Advent wreath stand, which had been brought into the chancel for the first Sunday in Advent. The stand had been stored for a whole year in a rear entryway near an exit door. A perfect place to hide away for a while. Until December, when the ants found themselves just a few meters of drops of wine and crumbs of bread. Of course they’re going to go and see what’s going on out there.

But only for a day. We quickly cleaned out their adopted home, the rail and the chancel. Just like the spider we once found crawling up the trays of wine or the lizard who scampered across the altar, we persuaded them to worship outdoors, where they could be just as close to their Creator.

Posted in Grace

“You’re mic is on!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Lee Soo hyun on Unsplash

It’s four minutes before I walk towards the altar, the prelude comes to a close and worship begins. More than a few times, someone has come up to me and said, “Your mic’s on!”

Well, of course it is. I fully trust the person at the sound board to pot me up at the appropriate times in the service. If the whole congregation can hear my small talk with those arriving for worship, those I’ve spotted who are with us for the first time, and those who have last minute questions for me, it’s not my fault!

I usually think, “I hope it wasn’t on when I was just in the bathroom.” Or expressing frustration under my breath about someone or something. Or speaking having a confidential conversation.

Actually, most of the time, it’s not true. My voice tends to carry. That’s a polite way of saying I’m just plain loud. I’ve heard it many times from my wife when guests are sleeping on the other side of the house or my comments are of a personal nature. I don’t even realize how much volume I can generate. It must come from all those years of playing the trumpet and sending air through the horn.

Can you imagine what it would be like if people could hear what you were thinking? So many thoughts resonate in my head that fortunately never make it to my vocal chords. About someone’s appearance, behavior, language, priorities, commitment, faith, choices or lifestyle. If that mic were ever left on I would be in a lot of trouble!

It’s troubling to sit here and write about thoughts I am glad no one knows I have. Obviously I am not proud of them, nor do I share them very often. Such thoughts reveal a level of sinfulness I shudder to admit. My thoughts aren’t always nice, constructive, merciful, forgiving and gracious. They are too often judgmental, condescending, cruel, hateful and evil.

No one knows. Except for God. And when I stop to ponder that, I am ashamed and humbled. But he still sent Jesus to atone for those thoughts. Amazing.

Posted in eyes

The tears no one sees

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Luis Galvez on Unsplash

A church worship service can be an emotional setting. I’ve had dozens of people say to me, “I cried through the whole service.”

Sometimes a song or hymn brings to mind a sad time, like a funeral service for a loved one. Some cry when they feel alone, even though they’re sitting in a room full of people, because one particular person isn’t there anymore. Or may soon not be there anymore. Or a phrase in a reading or sermon touches an especially tender spot in your heart. Some people don’t know why they need to bring tissues to church. The tears just flow.

I always tell folks that it’s OK to cry in church. After all, God created you with the ability to produce tears. And I also assure them that we all cry in church at one time or another. They might not know that because many times, no one sees the tears.

Sometimes the tears are on the inside. They don’t run down our face and drip onto a hymnal or bible. Instead they flow from our minds to our hearts and into our soul. Memories, guilt, fear, the unknown, anger, jealousy and hatred may not make our eyes well up. But we feel powerful emotions within. We weep within. We put on our best Vulcan expression and everyone thinks we’re just fine. But the tears within are very real.

Whether on the outside or the inside, there’s nothing wrong with tears. They make us remember that we’re looking forward to a new place, where God will wipe every tear from our eyes and our souls.

Posted in Ministry, questions

Yes, I have time for a question

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Twenty minutes or so before worship began last week, a good friend of mine asked, “Do you have time for a quick theological question?”

My heart rate increased, adrenaline began pumping as I reveled in that moment. Even in those moments when I should focus on the hour ahead of me, I love a good question about God, faith, Jesus or the church. In fact, when someone asks less specifically, “Can I ask you a question?” I will often reply, “I hope it’s a bible question!”

Many questions aren’t biblical or theological. In fact, they are usually anything but. For example,

  • “Do you know the copier access code?”
  • “Do we have any more garbage bags?”
  • “Whatever happened to __________?” (Fill in anyone’s name.)
  • “Where do you go to get your car fixed?”
  • “Who is that person I saw at church yesterday? He was older, had gray hair, wore glasses…”
  • “Why is it so cold/hot/noisy/dark/bright in here?”
  • “Where can I find a roll of toilet paper?”
  • “Why didn’t I get any offering envelopes?”
  • “When is the dumpster going to get emptied?”
  • “Can I use the fellowship hall for a birthday party in June?”
  • “Who left this food in the refrigerator?”
  • “What happened to the food that was in the refrigerator?”
  • “Why isn’t there anything on that bulletin board?”
  • “When did you get glasses?”
  • “Where are your glasses?”

Do I have time for a theological question? Most certainly, yes!

Posted in memories

Connecticut memories

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The first parish where I served as a pastor was Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Coventry, CT. We lived there for five years, from 1986-1991. The other day I quickly jotted down a few memories that popped into my head.

  • We had two Labrador retrievers, Gabriel (yellow) and Rachel (chocolate), plus two cats, Fred and Ginger. I would hit baseballs into the woods for the dogs to retrieve.
  • I loved cutting and splitting firewood. Great exercise, and we loved the heat from the wood burning stove in the winter.
  • The pews in the church had welded steel frames and wooden planks, crafted by some of the founders of the church. We had kneelers, too, which created quite a sound when they all fell to the floor at the same time for confession.
  • I got my first personal computer in Connecticut. Monochrome display, 5-1/4 inch floppy disk, no internet at that time. I just used it for word processing.
  • We often took the kids to the barns at the University of Connecticut. Most were open to the public, so we walked through rows of cows, pens full of sheep and goats, and fields filled with horses. The pigs were off-limits, though. Too many people tried to take the piglets. If we didn’t want to go to UConn, we just walk down the road to a small farm where horses, goats and chickens would come to greet us at the fence.
  • We lived in the church parsonage which sat on four acres right next to another four acres where the church was located. My two oldest children and I would often walk what we call the “‘benture trail,” along the boundary of our property which ran right up to the woods.
  • The obstetrician who brought our older daughter into the world forgave the part of our bill that insurance wouldn’t cover, in exchange for some “special intentions.” I was grateful, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t even know what that was. (They are intercessory prayers for someone, I think.)
  • The parsonage was a two-story, five bedroom, 2-1/2 bath, 2,600 sq. ft. home with a full basement and garage beneath. We moved in with a baby (Adam was four months old), a bed, a dresser, a crib, a table and a couple of chairs. We never never came close to fully furnishing that house. We did buy some antique oak dressers that we are still using today.
  • In the winter, those who smoked would stand in the narthex to stay warm, flicking ashes into the corner where they thought no one would notice.
  • The church wasn’t that big, averaging about 70 per Sunday in attendance. I still remember a whole bunch of the names: Thurber, Edmonds, Garay, Jeram, Sheehan, Ultzen, Wiebusch, Sans, Dollak, Davis, Burger, Dwyer, Bement, Ausburger, Underwood and Potterton. (That’s amazing!)

Not bad recall for events from over thirty years ago!

Posted in Nature

Wood Stork

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Either I’m becoming more observant, or new birds are suddenly in my field of vision. Today, simply walking Samson, we saw a few of these:

A Wood Stork is the only stork native to North America. They slowly stalk but quickly snap up fish, frogs and whatever else they can find in swamps, ponds and today, roadside ditches.

Birdwatchersdigest.com nominates them for “ugliest bird,” but I think that’s a bit harsh. The eating must have been good today, since this one hardly looked up when I paused to take his (and his friend’s) picture.