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November 4, 2007
a Stewardship Witness by Patricia Artis
"What a Friend!"
When John called and first asked me to
consider being part of the Stewardship Campaign, I have to be honest with you,
the first thoughts that ran through my head were “he has absolutely lost his
mind. There is NO WAY I can do that!” Just thinking about getting up in front
of people to talk terrifies me. I didn’t say these things to him, of course,
but agreed to give it some thought before giving him an answer. I was certain
as I hung up the phone that my answer would be no. The great part for me was
knowing that it would be okay to say no. John would accept my answer with no
pressure to change my mind and he would think no less of me for saying no. At
the same time I realized that I had been given a challenge of this proportion
for a reason and I needed to not be too hasty about making my decision. I was
certain there was something I was supposed to get out of this other than
perfecting the art of saying no.
When all of the alarms in my head telling me
to duck and run for cover stopped or at least quieted a bit, I began to think
about my conversation with John. His statement about how he was sure I was
getting something out of being at church kept coming back to me. I knew without
a doubt that was true, but I had no idea how I would or could tell all of you
that and more importantly how what I would have to say could be important. (I
was still struggling to envision myself up in front of everyone on a Sunday
morning.) Without even meaning to, whenever I had a quiet moment, I found
myself repeating John’s statement about getting something out of being at
church, and I, for perhaps the first time took some time to think about the
journey that led me to First Church and what it means to me to be here. As you
can probably imagine, having 6 or more boys in my life doesn’t allow much time
for quiet reflection. Before I knew it, the question was no longer how could I
get up and talk, but how would I find the words to express what First Church of
Reno means to me and my family. Because clearly I was getting something out of
being at church.
My journey to First United Methodist Church of
Reno has been close to 30 years in the making, and it, like my introduction to
the very first church in my life, was led by my mother, Mim Davis. It’s only
taken 52 years for me to recognize and appreciate these gifts from her. I
suspect this is the opportunity I may have missed if I had hastily said no.
The Church, during the first 21 years of my
life, was Greenstone or Pullman United Methodist Church in Chicago, Illinois.
Greenstone was a major focus in my mom’s life; in fact, at times it seemed we
spent more time there than at home. For Mom Church didn’t mean only coming to
worship on Sunday mornings. It meant Sunday School, Vacation Bible School,
choir and choir practice, meetings, Capital campaigns, monthly dinners,
cleaning, scraping paint off the walls, printing and folding the bulletins,
buying Christmas trees and garland for the Sanctuary, getting someone out on
Sunday morning to start the furnace, keeping the organ running and any other
thing that needed to be done. It also meant visiting the families of the
children who were sent to Sunday school, taking food to people, visiting members
and friends of the Congregation who missed Church that week and even doing
weekly laundry for a family with children who didn’t have a way or the money to
get to the Laundromat. Being part of the church meant making a difference in
the lives of the people in the area, reaching out to them where they were,
letting them know someone cared and being a helping hand or a listening ear.
Greenstone brought together a very diverse
group of people from all walks of life and various parts of the city. The thing
that sticks out most to me now is that none of our differences ever mattered.
There weren’t a lot of us there, but we were there together to work, to share,
to worship, to laugh, to cry, to praise God in our own unique ways. Because of
my experiences at Greenstone, church was a place of acceptance, encouragement,
love and friendship. With my mother I was able to see faith in action. She
lived with the confidence of knowing that God had her best interests at heart
that the things she was able to do for others were simply a refection of the
gifts she had received from Him.
My involvement at Greenstone ended when I went
away to college. From that time until about 3 years ago, I wasn’t involved with
another church. I attended Church sporadically, but never really found a place
that felt like home. My experiences at Greenstone forged my ideas and ideals of
what being part of a church meant and the involvement a church would have in
people’s lives. A connection to these things is what I looked for and struggled
to find as an adult.
In 2000, my brothers and sister decided that
my mom needed to relocate to Reno. I couldn’t imagine how she would manage this
kind of move, leaving behind everyone and everything that had been a part of her
life for more than 60 years (that’s a guess). It took Mom a while to agree that
this move was in her best interest, but once she did, she never looked back.
My mom was 85 at the time she moved here, and
from the day she arrived her plan was to find a church. I really wasn’t
surprised by this because she had continued to be very involved at Greenstone
even after my sister and I had left home. She didn’t want to be involved in
teaching Sunday school and didn’t feel she had a voice for the choir but she did
want to find a church that she could attend. I knew, too, that getting involved
with a church here would give her an opportunity to make friends and meet
people. Selfishly I also thought it would give her someone else to be with
besides me. My sister had yet to decide to move to Reno. My husband Gary and I
were deeply entrenched in caring for the 8-10 foster boys that shared our
lives. Trying to fit my mother into my life was a challenge at times. I didn’t
know then how she would really enrich my life, yet again.
I don’t know if First Church was the first
church Mom went to. I do know after she was here, she didn’t feel she needed to
look any where else. I remember how excited she was after attending a service
here. She couldn’t get over how she was so graciously welcomed. She marveled
at the fact that even though she wasn’t “doing” anything, she was welcome.
Right away I heard about Deborah and Sydney and Billy. Soon I was hearing
about others: Miss Sharon, Heidi, Gary, Kay, Norma, to name a few. Mom got
involved in adult classes and some of the women’s activities; something she had
never been able to do in the past. Mom invited me to come to church with her on
several occasions, but I always seemed to have some excuse. She never put any
pressure on me about attending church, but always made sure I knew I had an open
invitation. I did eventually attend a service, and one of my first memories is
hearing the bell choir. I remember thinking how I would love to be part of that
beautiful music. This Church also had a familiar look and feel to it, and I
knew some of what had drawn Mom here.
In October 2003, Mom was hospitalized for the
first time. Although we still don’t know the trigger, her life changed
dramatically from then on. It was at this point that I actually started
meeting some of Mom’s church family. In February 2004, Mom moved into our home,
bringing with her friends from church. Visits and phone calls and tapes from
the service were high points in her day.
One of the last things I remember my mom
talking about, and she was really talking more to herself than me, was how she
knew she only had 2 girls to get ready for church on Sundays by herself, but
surely there had to be a way for me to get all of the boys to church on Sunday.
By the time she was having this conversation, and for all I know she was working
out the details with God himself, it was clear that the end of her life was
near. I knew how important this must be to her to be giving it such attention
at this time in her life. And like John’s statement, it stuck with me; it was
something that played in my head whenever I was quiet, and I could see the truth
in her words. It could be done. I just had to move myself out of the way.
Somewhere along the way I had decided that I wasn’t going to be like Mom and
take the boys to church by myself. Gary wouldn’t go so neither would we. After
hearing Mom’s musings, I told myself that if any of the boys ever asked to go to
church, I would take them.
Shortly after this conversation Mom died. We
had her memorial service here and most of our foster sons attended. Soon they
were all coming up to me to tell me that they had been invited to come to church
and could they PLEASE do that! They were so excited by the prospect that it was
impossible to say no. Their enthusiasm has not waned in the 3 years we’ve been
attending. In fact they are quite disappointed when we miss a Sunday. They
have found friends, acceptance, joy, encouragement, support and an extended
family and perhaps most important to me, a very fine example of Christian love.
I think Mom knew if she could just get me
through these doors that I would find I was home again. First Church is very
much like my first church. I think Mom knew, too, that a time was coming when
the work that had chosen me would no longer be so easy. That I would face
challenges I could not get through alone, and that I would need the peace and
comfort and loving support that could be found here, a place where the presence
of God is very real.
I think First Church must be what Jesus had
envisioned for His Church. It is a place where everyone is welcome and accepted
as they are, without judgment, without conditions, without fitting that perfect
mold and as unique human beings with something wonderful to contribute.
Everyone needs a place like this in their lives.
One of the hymns I identify with my feelings
about First Church and the people I’ve met here is “Surely the Presence”. As I
was thinking about my journey, I wrote couple of my own verses: Those verses
are printed in your bulletin. If you will turn with me now to page 328 in your
hymnal, we will sing the verse in the hymnal and finish with the two verses I
have written.
Surely the presence of the Lord is in First Church
I can see His loving smile on every face;
Hope and peace; my soul is fed; I know I never walk alone
These are the gifts that I receive because you’re here.
When my load becomes too heavy,
And I need to lay it down
There’s a place where I am welcome any time;
God is near, I hear His voice; I feel His peace; I am revived
Surely the presence of the Lord is in First Church
I am thankful and feel truly blessed to have
this Church to bring my boys to. I feel certain that their experiences here
will impact their lives in a positive way. I realize now that the messages of
the hymns, Bible verses, and Bible stories that I learned as a child are still
with me. They have been a constant in my life that has been a source of comfort
and strength. My life has been changed by knowing and believing that I am a
child of God. This is a gift I hope to pass on just as my mother did.
Over the next two weeks as you consider your
pledge for this year’s stewardship campaign, I offer you these final thoughts:
give with out remembering and receive without forgetting. Our giving isn’t
about keeping track or keeping score or keeping up with what someone else is
giving. It IS about never forgetting the source of all we have and being
thankful. We can never begin to repay all that God has given us. Fortunately
for us the gifts we receive don’t come with That string attached. I believe our
giving is about giving our personal best – whatever that may be. And we are the
only ones who truly know what that is. I do know that no one, not even a
Heavenly Father, would be disappointed by us doing our best in every way at
every opportunity.
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