50 Years of Being Welcomed

50 Years of Being Welcomed

 “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.”—Matthew 10:40-42.

How do we see God working in our lives? I rarely know how God is guiding my life in the present moment, but I always find answers when I look backward.

Fifty years ago, on July 4th, 1976, the bicentennial year marking the 200th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, my husband and I, with two toddlers and an infant, crossed the Mississippi and then the Arkansas River, beginning a new adventure in Little Rock. Since that time, the Fourth of July has always been an important holiday, marking another year of nostalgic memories. Our call was to be on the ground floor of a developing Children’s Hospital. Our careers were demanding. Our support staff was grandparents in Memphis who helped us out at a moment’s notice, along with a live-in young nanny named Judy, who took a leap of faith to come with us from Iowa. They were both very needed.

We also had pediatric residents and nurses who wanted to spend time with well children, who took our children to ball games, swimming, and movies. We had a lot of help! We were welcomed by so many people.

My husband and I had been involved in the church when we were growing up, and when we were married, but when we journeyed to that “foreign” land named Iowa for graduate residencies, there was no time. There was no time here, either, but somehow it was important for our children to experience a religious life as we had before, even though it was no longer important to us.

Well, this is how God works. If you do not want to pay attention to the hound of heaven, God works through your children. We picked St. Mark’s because it was close to our home and we liked their annual antique show. We were drawn in and welcomed by the clergy, Gordon Swope, Charles Chatham, and Truman Welch. Something drew me to a Bible Study, so I met with a small group studying the Sunday lectionary in homes each week. Right away, we were welcomed by Barbara and Hap Hoffman, who became lifelong friends and welcomed us to a Cursillo weekend. Then there was no holding back. We were hooked. We later left with the Hoffmans to help start St. Margaret’s. There, I heard the call to the diaconate. Later, we were welcomed by three other churches where I served: Trinity Cathedral, St. Luke’s North Little Rock, and now back at St. Mark’s. Along the way, I also realized that alcohol was interfering with my life. A therapist sent me to one of her neighbors, who became my first sponsor, taking me to meetings every day for 3 months. In November, I will have been with that welcoming recovery group for 36 years. God keeps inviting us, welcoming us through God’s messengers. And as a sidebar, also saving our lives. There were many more stories and welcomings that Time won’t allow.

We have a God of love, always welcoming, caring, guiding, loving, saving. We think we know the path God chooses, but we don’t have a clue. It is like walking a labyrinth. WE think we came to Little Rock to care for sick children, which we did, but God led us to people here at St. Mark’s to care for our souls. I went to a therapist, not to be sidetracked to AA, but that is what happened.

And here we are back at St. Mark’s, right where we started. We haven’t really moved off the chessboard, but we are such different people because of the people who welcomed us along the way to a life with Christ.

Does this remind you of a universal theme well expressed in poetry by T.S. Eliot in the closing lines of “Little Gidding” part of Four Quartets:

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.”                        Joanna Seibert

How I Learned About America the Beautiful and Pike's Peak

How I Learned about America the Beautiful

Society of Pediatric Radiologists 1994

“America! America! God mend thine every flaw,

confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.”

—Katherine Lee Bates

Sometimes we have a patriotic hymn sing-along at church before major holidays such as the Fourth of July. One of my favorites is the music set to Katherine Lee Bates’s poem, “America the Beautiful.” “O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.” Bates wrote the hymn after arriving in a prairie wagon atop 14,000-foot Pike’s Peak near Colorado Springs in the summer of 1893.

I connected with the poem and the hymn while helping plan a pediatric radiology meeting in nearby Colorado Springs in 1994. I took a six-month sabbatical from Children’s Hospital to prepare for the international pediatric radiology meeting. I received much help from people all over the world, but I also had a touch of what Parker Palmer calls “functional atheism,” believing I was the “only” one who needed to do most of the work.

After a year of planning, everything was finally ready. I vividly remember sitting in a board meeting at the event hotel in May, just before the conference began. I looked out the wide bay window and, to my horror, saw the last snow of the winter falling in May! I had meticulously planned a multitude of outdoor activities that would now never see the light of day. I now keep a beautiful picture of snow on the tulips in front of the hotel to remind me how little I can control in life.

Society of Pediatric Radioloigists 1994

There were a multitude of other hiccups. We recorded speakers for a video of the meeting. One speaker did not like his recording and required us to redo his filming at least five times. I will always be indebted to Marilyn Goske, whom I had casually asked to watch over the speakers’ video. She patiently stayed with the speakers and missed the entire meeting to complete this task.

Another hiccup came during our evening entertainment after dinner. We had scheduled the Air Force Academy Cadet Choir, but without warning they were called to maneuvers. Our meeting planner booked a local children’s chorus. I worried it would be amateurish and poorly performed. But, as you might expect, they were the most charming, talented, and poised children performers I have ever seen. They ended their concert by approaching individual members of the highly educated, sophisticated audience, holding their hands, and singing directly to them. We all gave them a standing ovation through our tears, remembering that the children we serve as physicians can teach us so much about life and the beauty of America, as expressed in “America the Beautiful.”

Another lagniappe at the meeting. Two pediatric radiologists, who lived on different continents apart, decided to get married at the meeting. Overnight, our meeting planner arranged a beautiful ceremony for them. To date, there has never been another wedding at that annual meeting!

I also learned from this meeting that, no matter how hard I try, I am not in charge, and that God provides me with fantastic people around me who will take over in overwhelming situations. I especially learned at dinner that when a door unexpectedly closes, the next door that opens is often surprisingly magnificent.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

The Remarkable Reunion of Union and Confederate Veterans at the 50th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg

 Pickett’s Brigade Reunion

“And who is my neighbor?”—Luke 10:29.

Ken Burns’ television series on the Civil War describes a remarkable scene on the fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, July 3, 1913, when the remaining veterans of the two armies stage a reenactment of Pickett’s Charge. The old Union veterans on the ridge take their places among the rocks, and the old Confederate veterans march toward them across the field below—and then something extraordinary happens. As the older men among the rocks rush down toward the older men coming across the field, a great cry goes up—except that instead of fighting as they had a century earlier, they throw their arms around each other, embrace, and openly weep.

In 1914, during World War I, German, British, Belgian, and French troops in the trenches along the Western Front mingled during a brief Christmas truce, even singing “Silent Night” and other carols in solidarity. Recently, we have seen something similar at World War II memorials, such as Normandy, where German, English, French, and American soldiers have wept together and shared their stories. We have also seen it when American soldiers return to Vietnam to share stories with those they once fought bitterly.

This repeated act of shared love and storytelling can tell us something about war. So many who have fought on foreign fields can be our strongest advocates against it. They know what they—and those once their enemies—have lost. They share a common, life-altering experience that only those who have been through it can truly understand.

Those in recovery of any kind also know how awful their life of obsession was before healing from addictions to alcohol, drugs, sex, food, etc. They can relate to those who remain trapped in their addiction. Most of all, they can minister to those still suffering and offer hope that their lives can be different. They do this by sharing the story of their life in addiction, contrasted with what it is like now in recovery.

Those who have overcome mental illness can become advocates for others who suffer from this common disease. People who were once homeless can offer restorative hope to those on the street. Cancer survivors can encourage and pray for others recently diagnosed, giving them strength and support.

This story goes on and on and on. We are healed as we reach beyond ourselves, share our stories, and listen to those who suffer in situations we know all too well. We realize “who IS our neighbor.”

Some call this being wounded healers.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/