Dear Cindy,
I think you began this journey early in life, soon after you
were born.
Even as an infant, you knew who you were.
When sisters and brother joined you, you welcomed their
company.
And you were prepared.
You organized and entertained their little lives with quiet
confidence and goodwill.
And when I watched you some years later discuss a story with
a select group of other 6th graders, I knew the gift would flourish.
It did, to the glory of the Giver.
You shared it as counselor at Camp Tall Turf, learning and leading,
walking with and caring for those with troubled lives.
You shared it in a classroom of your own when you became a
teacher and could talk about stories and meanings all day long.
You shared it as Chapel Coordinator with students and
apprentices, still learning and leading, all the while moving closer to the
spiritual nature of the human journey – God’s purpose and meaning for our
lives.
When the work in the Chapel ended, there was pain.
You grieved, for you had loved your work.
We grieved too, and prayed new paths would show.
Something had been growing within you, something that had
been part of the Giver’s gift all along:
the desire for a greater immersion in the Word and devotion
to the Word made flesh.
God’s gift had flourished, and now grew into a calling.
It was like a trickle from a well of living water that
turned into a stream.
It was like a faint whisper that slowly drew closer till it
became a voice that settled in the soul.
You were not surprised, I think.
You listened, though there were other voices too.
But you embraced the one that was embracing you.
We watched as you studied Greek and Hebrew, Systematic
Theology, Apologetics –
we prayed that you would be blessed with fortitude and
steadfast faith.
The work was hard, the days too short.
But you persevered, and learned, and grew – the gift still
flourishing.
And one summer you were back at Tall Turf, as chaplain now.
And it felt right.
You practice preached in places and in your own church too.
And you were affirmed.
Graduation came, hearts filled with joyous gratitude when
you filed across the platform for the degree in divinity.
Then came Synod.
I remembered the Synod years ago where I as delegate pleaded
with others for allowing women to preach.
I did not know then that I was pleading for my daughter too.
But it was in vain.
Or was it?
For now Synod welcomed, applauded, and embraced you.
And feelings would not be suppressed; but the tears were not
the same as at the Synod of my memory.
But then the waiting and the wondering began.
Would the inner call connect to an outer one?
Weeks passed, then months.
More prayers, and pleas.
And doubts, but not despair.
You made sermons, you preached, and you were praised.
And when your church needed you, you were there.
You had served as elder the needs of parents losing their
only daughter.
All through the valley you were there for them, sharing
their tears and pain in their torn hearts.
You were still learning and leading, in Jesus’ name.
Now they needed you, for a time, for the pastoral care of
the congregation.
Your heart was in it; your gifts flourished; and you were
loved.
We thanked God for that wonderful blessing.
Meanwhile, some signals went back and forth, with long
pauses in between.
Was God using those testing times to train?
At last, the signals grew into one steady sound, the outer
call:
the call to Lakeside Church.
Not sure at first this was your place to go, it grew on you
till you felt sure:
this was God’s call for you.
The classis met, its questions challenged you, but you
sustained it well.
Their warm approval and embrace confirmed to you the
rightness of your path.
At Neland your pastoral ministry ended with pastors and
elders encircling you,
laying their hands on you, and sending you out with their
love and blessings.
That holy moment, when I too joined that circle, filled your
father’s soul with the Spirit’s joy.
Did you feel it too?
Yes, there was a strain of sadness too—your church family
would miss Ed and Cindy who had meant much to the church for so long.
And we would miss you too, sharing the “family bench” with
us on many a Sunday.
But then came the service of your ordination at Lakeside
Church.
Your anticipation must have been intense.
Children and family and friends would come from near and far
to witness the end of one journey and the beginning of another.
If you felt a kind of holy excitement within and around you
as people began to arrive, I felt it too.
It was a spirit of celebration, for you and for all who
came.
A celebration of the “Light that Goes Before Us,” the theme
you chose for this service.
A celebration of your spiritual trajectory that led at last
to these people longing for a pastor.
To a small congregation --yes, but very much alive.
And on this Saturday night its numbers swelled with Neland
members and others from Fremont Second, the calling church.
There was much in that service that moved us profoundly.
Yes, the singing of “Bless the Lord, O my soul”; of “Praise
and glory, wisdom and thanks/honor and power and strength/be to our God forever
and ever”; of Ed and Amy singing “Cause your Word to come alive in me/give me
faith for what I cannot see/give me passion for your purity/Holy Spirit,
breathe new life in me”; of voices swelling on “Love divine, all loves
excelling, Joy of heaven, to earth come down.”
Your gift of liturgical sensitivity was evident in the way
the service was put together.
But there was also the ringing affirmation of your calling
in Dale Cooper’s memorable message “Sent to Bear Witness to the Light.”
And to a parent’s heart there is something very special in
hearing the congregation promise to “welcome Cindy as their minister and
pastor, to take to heart the Word of God as she proclaims it, to promise to
pray for her, to share in the work of her ministry, to encourage her in her
tasks, and to respond to her work with obedience, love, and respect.”
But what is indelibly imprinted in my memory, and I think
that true for all who witnessed, was your face as you took your place before
us.
Your face spoke the feelings that words cannot express: your
whole being’s participation in the weight and the glory of the moment -
sometimes stirred by emotions arising from deep within, sometimes radiating a heavenly
joy.
The tears that welled up in us were tears of love and joy
and praise.
When we stood at the end, joining hands, and sang “My friends,
may you grow in grace…to God be the glory, now and forever…, I choked on the
words sometimes, overcome by God’s glorious presence among us.
And I fought tears again when you spoke at the end, thanking
God and others who had blessed and shaped you in what “I am becoming.”
By God’s grace, you are becoming what you already began when
you were but a little child.
Watching that little-child-become-pastor for the first time
raise her hands over the congregation in the closing benediction was a blessing
my heart could hardly contain.
May your gifts flourish at Lakeside, dear Cindy, as you
continue to learn and to lead.
With much love,
Dad
