“But I am lowly and in pain; let your salvation, O God, protect me.” -Psalm 69:29 (NRSV)

I have an autoimmune disease called fibromyalgia. It manifests in joint pain that moves around my body (and sometimes appears in the middle of my shins), fatigue, and is comorbid (found simultaneously) with conditions like migraines, IBS, and depression. Flare-ups are rare for me (thanks to gabapentin), but a major one hit after my second COVID vaccine. I had made sure I could work from my bed that day, but the pain was severe, and I was definitely pretty miserable.

One of the hard things about having it is that about half of the medical profession agrees it exists while the other half thinks those doctors are horrible diagnosticians. It is a diagnosis of exclusion, which means that they have to exclude everything else before you get a firm diagnosis. This means bloodwork for some pretty strange things and x-rays to rule out other issues. I was evaluated by an amazing rheumatologist when I moved up here who did one of the thorough rheumatology exams ever (which, ironically, means that I left in a large amount of pain), but alas, he is overworked, so I have gotten pawned off on many different specialists while they all try to figure out exactly whose problem I am.

Because of all of this, I resonate with the psalmist very much. It is hard to be in pain and discomfort while not having any good way to stop it. It brings to mind a story told by the late author Rachel Held Evans. She had horrible eczema as a child and nighttime was the worst for the itching. Vinegar baths made her nauseous from the smell, and she finally asked her dad why Jesus would afflict her this way.

His response was beautiful: “I don’t know why. But I know He loves you.”

I don’t know why I have fibromyalgia (and migraines and IBS and depression and every other phenotypic expression of my genetics), but I know it has nothing to do with whether or not God loves me. This is saving me and saving my faith.

Dear Lord, help us to remember that you do not afflict us with things that cause us pain or discomfort to hurt us. Please be present with us during the hard times in enduring them. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance, O God of our salvation; you are the hope of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas.” -Psalm 65:5 (NRSV)

Those who hang out in the choir loft with me on Sunday mornings can tell you that I have the attention span of a goldfish. This is not a bad thing as monitoring the Zoom feed requires me to be checking sound, making sure the correct account is spotlighted, and the recording is happening. The downside is that it makes it really hard for me to focus on worship, and my mind has a habit of going elsewhere. Left up to my own devices, I would probably be doing things like making worship attendance forms during the sermon or editing devotions for whatever devotional book I happen to be working on at the time instead of paying attention. It isn’t that I don’t want to pay attention and be in a worshipful mood—I just get really distracted easily.

What is currently saving me in terms of keeping me mildly focused on worship are little things. It could be David Sloat sitting behind me reading the Psalm sotto voce or it might be people-watching from the balcony and seeing people kneel. I am trying to do things like read the Psalm aloud to myself, sing the hymns (if my allergies aren’t messing with my voice and ability to breath), and stand for things where I would otherwise be kneeling if I was in the pews. After worshipping virtually for 15 months, I guess I am very much out of practice with being “present”, but I am getting my bearings back slowly.

One thing that I am also trying to keep in mind as I feel like scolding myself for my mind wandering for the 15th time during worship is that God is not asking for perfection. God is asking me to show up and hang out in the House of the Lord. God speaks to my heart through those bits of psalms that filter through my racing mind and the hymns that are being sung as my brain is focused on letting Keith or Ben know that we need more sound on Zoom. God will meet me where I am instead of expecting me to be in a certain place. Thank heavens for that!

Thank you, Lord, for being patient with me when my mind is wandering and I am distracted by something else going on. Thank you for meeting me where I am instead of where I *should* be. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.”-Psalm 62:1 (NRSV)

What do an Internet-connected computer and a propane-fueled firepit have in common? Salvation through maintaining contact with friends and family!

Shortly before the COVID-19 lockdown was even on the horizon, I decided a firepit would add to our backyard ambiance and propane-fueled meant it could be used during burn bans in July and August. I did the research, decided on a highly recommended firepit, and ordered it from Amazon. It was backordered and did not arrive until the end of July – some assembly required. Yes, “some assembly” took several hours, but it was worth it. Now we had a way to invite friends over to socially distance outside around a firepit!!! We have a covered patio and were able to use it throughout the fall and winter. The light and warmth from the firepit were doubled by the warmth of celebrating life with friends.

The computer has also been a lifeline to continuing contact. Zoom allows attendance at church services, the continued meetings of our Haggen coffee group, and our Great Books Discussion Group. We even added a couple of people to our discussion group from distant states! The computer allows frequent contact with our far-flung family, as our sons agreed that one of the two of them would check on us through video chat almost every day. Yes, we missed our planned trip to Glacier National Park and our spring break trip with the grandtwins. But we were able to share our lives with one another in a different and special way.

Friends and family are loving gifts from God, and we have been truly blessed to remain connected throughout this difficult time.

Dear God, we thank you for the blessings of family and friends and the ways that we have been able to connect. Through these connections, we gain glimpses of our “rest in you.” Amen.
-Cathey Frederick

“I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.” -Psalm 40:10 (NRSV)

It was the week after Easter in 2008. The pastors in the Montana Synod of the ELCA were gathering at Chico Hot Springs for a retreat (along with their spouses and a handful of kids), and I was sitting at a table with Jessica Crist (the bishop for Montana Synod), her husband, some synod staff, and my former husband Jon (then an ELCA pastor). I was describing 2J’s, an “interesting” grocery store in Great Falls that is similar to Trader Joe’s, and one of the synod staff commented sarcastically that people can be positively evangelical about their grocery stores but not about Jesus. I pulled myself up to my full 5’1” stature and told him that he would know that I can totally speak the same way about Jesus if he bothered to ask me. (Yes, I’m sure that all of you who know me can picture this vividly.)

While I don’t evangelize people at Haggen on my weekly shopping trip (I’m far too shy!), my weekly grocery shopping trip has been one of those things that have saved me during the pandemic. As much as I love Daniel, I needed a break from him occasionally, and the shopping trips were my break. I would make finding certain items like PPE and flour into a game while navigating supply chain issues, and I found that pacing the aisles at Haggen became relaxing for me. Best of all, I would occasionally run into St. Paul’s folks there, and that would make doing church online somewhat less isolating.

Thank heavens for the ways in which basic survival things can bring us life!

Gracious God, thank you so much for pharmacists, pharmacy techs, cashiers, and all who are essential employees that keep the world going during times when the rest of us have to stay home. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“The Lord helps them and rescues them; he rescues them from the wicked, and saves them, because they take refuge in him.” -Psalm 37:40 (NRSV)

Who is “them?” I presume the “them” referred to in the psalm are those being abused and mistreated by the wicked. I am always uncomfortable painting with such a broad brush. In fact, when it comes to painting, I leave the broad strokes and paint-rolling to others. Give me the skinny brush and let me cut in the corners and trim. I would rather spend two hours painting a single window, cutting in all the mullions, sashes, and such whatnot than to spend that same time rolling all the walls in the house. Why? Because I like precision. I would rather backspace forty percent of the time to correct a grammatical or spelling error than to let autocorrect do it. Why? Because I don’t care about the rules. The words in a document mean what I want them to mean, the way I mean to say them. I know what the rules are, and rules are important, but they are secondary to the precision with which I wish to speak. Having said that, however, I am also gravely aware that I am not the keeper of my destiny or captain of my soul, but the servant of God, so I gladly flee to the only refuge that matters because, well, because God knows the rules, but has found them secondary to the love which God has for us AND for the world. God has taken the time to cut in the corners, mullions, and sashes of our twisty crazy lives and transform us – so that we can open, close, and, by God’s grace, let the light of God shine through to a dark and dingy world during this Advent season.

Gracious God, you who paint sunrises, sunsets, and the seasons in their courses – you paint our lives as well. Whether black and white or with boldness of color, we are your artwork; the earth is your fridge. May the world see you when they look at us, and may we never be ashamed of who we are, what we are, or whose we are. Amen.
– Fr. Keith Axberg

“Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your judgments are like the great deep; you save humans and animals alike, O Lord.” -Psalm 36:6 (NRSV)

Salvation during the pandemic has come in many forms for me. One of the most important, and I hope enduring, is finding a time and place for silence, stillness, and meditation. Life can get very busy with lots of things tugging for attention. In closing many doors, the pandemic helped me open another one that I am relishing and appreciating.

With nowhere else to go, my yard became a place of observation and restoration. I began to notice more carefully all the animals and birds that come and go. Despite their voracious appetites for the roses, the doe and fawn garnered my watchful appreciation for their graceful movements. Pulling weeds became therapeutic and planting herbs, vegetables and flowers restored my body, mind and spirit.

Following the advice of a dear friend, I began to read Fr. Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations to begin my day. Today’s Psalm contains a summary of many of his meditations. He speaks often of righteousness and justice with concrete suggestions on how to work towards a more equitable and just society. As a Franciscan, he recognizes our interdependence with animals. (Click here for one.)

Dear God thank you for opportunities to know you through interactions with animals and people. Help us to participate fully in the healing and restoration of the world. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick