Immigration Detention Christmas Greetings.

Posted: November 4, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

I feel so helpless when I think about families and children being detained in the immigration detention system. Even though I serve very near the Mexican border, we are a long way from a detention center. I long for ways to do something and connect. That’s why I was very enthused to find out about Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service’s Hope for the Holidays program (http://lirs.org/hopefortheholidays). The goal is to distribute over 1,700 holiday cards to women and children held in immigration detention.

When I mentioned this idea to some San Lucas parishioners, the response wasn’t as energetically positive as I expected. “A Christmas card isn’t going to make that much difference to someone locked up. What we really need to do is to write letters to Congress to change the immigration laws.” I actually agree. This could be a great stepping stone toward a ministry of advocacy. LIRS has tools to help us with that, as well (http://lirs.org/lirs-congressional-advocacy-guide-2014/).

I totally get that writing a Christmas card isn’t going to change the world. What this campaign really does is get us in congregations thinking about what is happening with these families—our neighbors. It’s raising awareness for us. If it does also give someone in detention a word of hope, that’s great, too. I am very glad LIRS is encouraging this. I really want San Lucas to participate because we have so many parishioners with recent firsthand experience as immigrants that there is quite a bit of prayerful wisdom and compassionate greeting in our people. Our native Spanish speakers provide a unique perspective. There is so much to share.

The LIRS website has a few holiday greetings in Spanish. Here is a list of some more sentences and paragraphs that could be helpful. I’m going to print these out for when we make cards during one of our inter-generational learning times. My hope is that this list can be move beyond trite platitudes and theological niceties and provide words of comfort and healing for people in horrible situations:

 

Usted no conoce a nosotros, pero oramos por usted. Oramos por un espíritu de esperanza y alegría en medio de circunstancias tan graves. Oramos por paz. You don’t know us, but we pray for you. We pray for a spirit of hope and joy in the midst of such grave circumstances. We pray for peace.

No podemos imaginar su experiencia ni su soledad durante este tiempo tan duro, pero oramos. Oramos por su vida, por su familia, y que pueda reunirse otra vez. We can’t imagine your experience nor solitude during this such tough time, but we pray. We pray for your life, for your family, and that you can be reunited once again.

No conocemos a usted, pero su situación está en nuestros corazones. No podemos imaginar lo que significa para estar tan lejos de su familia. Oramos por cambios en este mundo. Oramos por usted y que pueda seguir adelante con esperanza y fe. We don’t know you, but your situation is on our hearts. We can’t imagine what it means to be so far from family. We pray for changes in this world. We pray for you and that you can keep on with hope and faith.

Durante esta estación navideña, recordamos que el niño Jesús en el pesebre es el mismo Señor Jesús que sufre con nosotros en la cruz y quien conoce a nuestro dolor. Oramos que usted pueda reconocer que no está solo en su camino. Dios está con usted y su familia durante todo. During this Christmas season, we remember that the Baby Jesus in the manger is the same Lord Jesus who suffers with us on the cross and who knows our pain. We pray that you can recognize that you are not alone in your journey. God is with you and your family during everything.

En este tiempo navideño, recordamos que Maria y José buscaba posada. Recordamos la bienvenida que solamente Dios da. Oramos que usted pueda encontrar bienvenida y reunirse con su familia de nuevo. In this Christmas time, we remember that Mary and Joseph looked for lodging. We remember the welcome that only God gives. We pray that you may find welcome and be reunited with your family again.

Al celebrar la navidad, recordamos que la Sagrada Familia se huyó de la violencia fea de un rey poderoso. Con la ayuda de Dios, Maria, José, y el Niño Jesús encontraron consuelo y descanso en Egipto. Oramos que usted y su familia pueda encontrar paz y socorro este año. Upon celebrating Christmas, we remember that the Holy Family fled the ugly violence of a powerful king. With the help of God, Mary, Joseph, and the Child Jesus found comfort and rest in Egypt. We pray that you and your family may find peace and help in the new year.

Los santos peregrinos Maria y José buscaban la bienvenida al pedir posada. Oramos que usted y su familia pueda encontrar un espíritu de hospitalidad y esperanza en este año nuevo. The holy pilgrims Mary and Joseph looked for welcome as they asked for lodging. We pray that you and your family may find a spirit of hospitality and hope in this new year.

Queremos saludarle a usted durante este tiempo navideño. Somos de una iglesia luterana en Texas. No podemos imaginar su experiencia en estos momentos duros. Nuestra fe nos recuerda que Dios está presente aun en momentos pesados. Oramos que usted pueda sentir un espíritu de solidaridad con Jesús este año. We want to greet you during this Christmas time. We are from a Lutheran church in Texas. We can’t imagine your experience in these difficult moments. Our faith reminds us that God is present even in weighty moments. We pray that you may feel a sense of solidarity with Jesus this year.

Nunca hemos conocido a usted, pero su circunstancia está pesada en nuestros corazones. Nunca podemos entender su propia experiencia, pero confiamos en Dios, que conoce todo el dolor y todo el sufrimiento del mundo. Oramos que usted y su familia pueda buscar nuevas oportunidades. We have never met you, but your circumstance is heavy on our hearts. We can never understand your own experience, but we trust in God, who knows all the pain and suffering of the world. We pray that you and your family may find new opportunities.

 

Dios le bendiga,

Iglesia Luterana San Lucas

Eagle Pass, Texas

A quick update!

Posted: March 21, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

It has been a while since I’ve blogged here. My time has been very full with all the ministry on the border. Christmas, Epiphany, annual meetings, visiting mission groups…There has been some violence in Piedras Negras—some shootings and grenades. We cancelled worship at Cristo Rey two weeks ago because of the safety issues. A visiting mission group from Iowa was going to put on a medical clinic across the border, but stayed on this side instead, putting on a health fair at San Lucas.

San Lucas has also gotten a little bit of publicity. I wrote an article about my ministry here for my seminary’s alumni publication. (http://www.lstc.edu/voices/stories/bailie.php).

Bishop Michael Rinehart (who was one of my pastors while growing up at St. Paul in Davenport), recently wrote about the ELCA Mission Builders, who constructed the parsonage at San Lucas. (http://bishopmike.com/2012/03/19/mission-builders/).

How do you solve a problem like María?

Posted: December 6, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

Next Monday, December 12, is the feast day of the Virgin of Guadalupe. It’s a special time to remember the appearance of the Virgin to Juan Diego so many years ago. For many Mexican people, Guadalupe is a sign of welcome, hope, and faith.

In my conversations with Mexican Lutherans, it appears that they are either fervent guadalupanos luteranos, or they are very strictly anti-Guadalupe, with not much in the middle. Some Lutheran congregations integrate devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe into their liturgical practice and community celebration. A very large congregation in Fort Worth is named after her, and was featured in The Lutheran a few months ago. Conversely, both Juan Diego and the Virgin of Guadalupe are conspicuously absent from the list of commemorations in the front of Libro de Liturgia y Cántico, our Spanish-language Lutheran hymnal. In my congregation, we have people with firm beliefs on both sides. On the one hand, when I visit people, quite a few homes have images of her displayed prominently, and more than a handful of women and girls are named Guadalupe, Lupina, Lupe, or other variations. She’s on jewelry, bumper stickers, and baseball caps. On the other hand, others think it’s too Roman Catholic, and inappropriate for us as Lutherans. To be Lutheran is to not have images, I’m often told.

Personally, I’m quite sympathetic to the argument that ELCA pastor Maxwell E. Johnson makes in The Virgin of Guadalupe: Theological Reflection of an Anglo-Lutheran Liturgist, that there is room for the Virgin in protestant worship. As a white guy from Iowa, I did not grow up with Guadalupe as any part of my religious faith development. I first started to develop an appreciation for her story when I served as intern at a New York congregation that celebrated December 12 with much gusto. That congregation had a giant mural depicting the Virgin standing hand in hand with Martin Luther and Frederick Douglass, emphasizing the beautiful racial collaboration in that place.

When you get down to it, the Virgin of Guadalupe is a rather Lutheran story. Martin Luther translated the Bible into German so that the Gospel could be understood in the language of the people. The Virgin speaks to Juan Diego in his language so that he may understand. In the spirit of the priesthood of all believers, Juan Diego becomes an unlikely evangelist, speaking truth to the power of the colonial religious establishment.

Whereas I think Guadalupe is a beautiful way of recognizing God’s subversive way of bringing justice and peace into our world, I also note that her devotion raises some theological question. I’m starting to become the imperialism aspect of it. Sometimes I do think that she becomes a sign of Mexican nationalism, and I wonder how welcoming she is for non-Mexican Latino/as. On internship with folks from many countries, the bulletin suggested changing the words in one of the Virgin hymns to “somos cristianos” instead of “somos mexicanos,” (“We’re Christians” instead of “We’re Mexicans”) but most people still sang it as they knew it.

So what do I preach this weekend? I get that the Virgin of Guadalupe is an important part of personal devotional life for many in my congregation, but I also want to respect the bound consciences of those with some discomfort. I realize that as a new pastor, especially as a new Anglo pastor in a Mexican community, it takes some time to build up some trust before preaching on controversial and potentially divisive topics. I have, however, mentioned Juan Diego in a recent sermon. I was talking about how some folks have intense and dramatic encounters in the course of their faith journeys. I did mention him in the same breath as Moses, Martin Luther, Luke Skywalker, and Harry Potter.

I’ll have plenty of years to preach my “Guadalupe is a really Lutheran story” sermon. I think I’ll wait for an opportunity. There will always be a chance to tell that message. Maybe I’m timidly squelching indigenous religious experience by my silence. On the other hand, I want to respect my pastoral colleagues and not preach a theology that is 180 degrees from the theology of some of my predecessors, especially on a topic that is so close to many hearts. This year, I’ll stay with Mary’s song from Luke’s Gospel. They’re Advent words that call us to start thinking about the radical transformation that God is about in the world. It’s a message of hope and justice that we all could keep hearing again and again.

Glocal mission and cultural icebergs

Posted: September 24, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

I just got back from two days at ELCA Glocal Mission Event in San Antonio. Seven of us from San Lucas took the church van to learn about what it means to do mission close to home and around the world. My brain is starting to feel mushy after flipping back and forth from speaking English and Spanish.

I think it’s great to get out of our linguistic comfort zones a bit. At worship, we sang music in English, Spanish, Arabic, Indonesian, and a bunch of African languages that I’m not culturally astute to differentiate.

We had some trouble with the translation audiophones, so the people who needed translation had to sit in the back to get translation, which defeats the whole message of the event—inclusion, accompaniment, and welcome.

My biggest learning was a powerpoint slide showing an iceberg, demonstrating that most of the ice can’t be seen. Culture is like the iceberg.
We can see just a little bit on the outside, like clothing, language, and music. What we don’t always see are things like sense of time, child-rearing techniques, and greeting customs.

As a white pastor serving a Hispanic/Latino congregation, I’m in the process of learning many of these hidden cultural things. For example, here on the border, it is very polite to greet every person individually with a handshake, hug, or even a kiss, upon entering a room. In my white, Midwestern, Scandinavian background, it’s perfectly fine to walk into a room, say, “Hi, everybody” to the whole group and continue on. That would be rude here.

I also have a pretty wide personal space area. I’m not a hugger, but I’m slowly learning to be. Culturally here, it is very appropriate to pat a child on the head when coming or going. For a pastor, I should probably give a blessing. This is somewhat out of my comfort zone. I’ve had enough boundary training in light of clergy sexual abuse scandals to be weary of touching anybody, especially a child. I’ve also known too many African American women who have been majorly offended when white people get fascinated with their hair. I don’t really want to touch anybody’s hair, just to be safe.
I’m glad that some parishioners came. Now we have the shared image of the iceberg. From now on, when we run into one of those cultural differences in our life together, I can say explain the iceberg image, and we can name and claim those differences.

Sermón: Miércoles de Ceniza

Posted: March 9, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Bible, Ministry, Sermon, Spanish | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

My sermon for Ash Wednesday, 2011.

Con cruces de ceniza en nuestras frentes, empecemos la estación de cuaresma. Tenemos cuarenta días para orar, para enfocar y reenfocar nuestra fe, y para recordar nuestra identidad como hijos e hijas de Dios.

Yo recuerdo una de las primeras personas que recibió cenizas de mí, cuando yo era interno en una iglesia. Este hombre era alto, y tal vez tenía treinta años. No he visto este individual en la iglesia antes. Desde que sepa yo, fui su primera vez.

Como los otros en la congregación, él viene al altar para recibir cenizas. En mis manos, tengo un platito de cenizas de palma, mezcladas con un poco de aceite. Pongo ceniza en mi dedo, y toco su frente, diciendo estas palabras del libro de Génesis: “Recuerda que eres polvo y al polvo volverás.”

Él dice, “Amen.” Y yo también. “Amen.” Después de la misa, quiero conocer este visitante. Me dice, “Necesito recibir cenizas para que mi novia piense que asisto a una iglesia.”

Hoy, acabamos de oír las palabras de Jesús: “No practiquen su religión delante de la gente sólo para que los demás los vean.” Y además, Jesús espera que sus discípulos no sean hipócritas a quienes orar para que toda la gente los vea.

Sí, parece extraño que, en el día cuando oímos Jesús enseñando sobre las buenas obras, tenemos cenizas en nuestras frentes.

Pues, el miércoles de ceniza no es para impresionar a otros. No es para ganar una novia. No es para ser jactancioso ni vanaglorioso. Sino, es para afirmar nuestra condición como seres humanos.

Admitamos que somos rotos. Somos una gente que necesita un salvador. En este día, recordamos nuestra conexión con la tierra, nuestra solidaridad con todas las personas que sufren, y en la misma manera, la solidaridad de Cristo con nosotros.

“Eres polvo y al polvo volverás.”

Oímos estas palabras en el libro de Génesis, cuando Dios sacó a Adán y a Eva del jardín de Edén después de desobedecer a Dios y comer el fruto. Esto es el primer semáforo de mortalidad humana. Sabemos que, algún día, vamos a morir. No vimos por siempre. Volveremos a nuestras origines.

“Eres polvo y al polvo volverás.” Tal vez, una mejor manera de traducir esta frase es: “Eres tierra y al tierra volverás.” La palabra en hebreo es adama’. Significa tierra, como en un campo o en un jardin. Es la tierra donde crecen plantas. Adama’. Entonce, Adan, el primer ser humano, es de adama’. Adan es una creatura de la tierra. Como seres humanos, tenemos conexiones íntimos con la tierra. Cada cosa que usamos, cada comida que usamos, es un producto de la tierra, que he creado por Dios. “Eres polvo y al polvo volverás.” “Eres tierra y al tierra volverás.”

Los campesinos y los geologiotas saben que, en realidad, la tierra está llena de vida. Está lleno de organismos y minerales microscópicos que ayudan el crecimiento de las planta. La tierra que vemos en el paisaje tejano parece muerte y fea y sucia, pero, sin duda, está llena de vida.

Favor de pensar en esta cosa en su frente. Parece muerte y fea, y sucia, pero, sin duda, está llena de vida. Tiene la forma de la cruz, un semáforo de las promesas de Dios.

El miércoles de ceniza, somos marcados con una cruz, pero somos marcados con una cruz en otra manera. Durante el bautizo, oímos las palabras: “Has sido sellado y marcado con la cruz de Cristo para siempre.”

Probablemente llevamos la cruz de miércoles de ceniza por unas horas más hoy. Cuando duchamos y bañamos, esta cruz desaparecerá, pero las promesas de Dios en las aguas de bautizo siempre estarán con nosotros.

La estación de cuaresma empezaba y desarrollaba como uno tiempo de preparación bautismal.

En los primeros siglos de la cristiandad, como hoy mismo, las personas eran recibidas en la iglesia por bautismo. Usualmente solamente era una vez cada año para bautizar—durante la Vigila Pascual. En este servicio, al atardecer, cerca del un fuego nuevo, la gente recordaba historias de los hechos de Dios. Las personas que aprendían sobre la fe por la primera vez fueron bautizadas. Para preparar, estos cristianos nuevos tendrían un tiempo antes para aprender, para estudiar, para orar y practicar hechos de caridad. Otros cristianos maduros querían estar en solidaridad con los nuevos, y entonces, participaron en estas actividades preparatorias. Este tiempo de reflexión y oración ha desarrollado a la estación de cuaresma.

Unas personas usan cuaresma como un tiempo para dejar una cosa. Pero, también, la cuaresma es un tiempo para recordar. Es para recordar que somos hijos e hijas de Dios, sellado por el Espíritu Santo y marcado con la cruz de Cristo para siempre. También, es un tiempo para enfocar y reenfocar su identidad cristiana.

Como cristianos, somos creados en la imagen del Dios. La cuaresma tiene más que ver con nuestra identidad como gente creada en la imagen del Dios, y menos que ver con nuestras imágenes humanas. No estamos aquí para ganar ninguna cosa de Dios.

No estamos aquí para impresionar a nadie. Estamos aquí para reenfocar y para recordar quienes somos–Hijos e hijas de Dios. “Eres tierra y al tierra volverás.” Amén.

How I learned Spanish

Posted: March 7, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Spanish | Tags: , | 1 Comment

One of the most common questions I am asked when people find out that I use bilingual gifts in ministry is, “How did you learn Spanish?” I imagine that they are really thinking, “Why does a white guy from Iowa speak Spanish?”

Initially, as a very young child, I picked up a few Spanish words and phrases from watching Sesame Street, and my older sister had informally tried teaching me a few more words when she was majoring in Spanish. I officially started learning Spanish in junior high and high school, from eighth through twelfth grade. I had a rather passionate teacher who really encouraged writing and speaking in Spanish.

In college, I got halfway through a major in Spanish. In the pursuit of a well-rounded liberal arts education, I changed majors a few times, ending up with degrees in geography and religion, but still able to somewhat function in Spanish.

Though I had visited my sister’s family in Nicaragua, the rubber really hit the road for me, in terms of speaking Spanish, when I was on internship for a year at a bilingual congregation in Manhattan. Every time I preached, the first sermon was at 11 a.m. in English, and at 1 p.m. in Spanish. On major feats days, like Reformation Day, Palm Sunday, and the vicar’s last service, we combined and had bilingual worship. During my last semester of seminary, I took a class about Latin American church history that was taught entirely in Spanish.

I admit that my Spanish skills aren’t perfect. I don’t always conjugate a verb correctly, and sometimes, if I don’t know what the right word is for something, I just call it esa cosa–that thing. I can read and write, but I still struggle with listening to what people say, especially if they use any colloquial vocabulary at all. I felt very attracted to the call at San Lucas because it is a congregation hispanohablante.

Now in my second week at San Lucas, I feel my language skills have improved immensely just in the past days. I’m still not perfect, and I do a lot of circumlocution when I don’t know the right word, but I’ve found that people are very grace-filled when it comes to my language ability. The only way for it to improve is to practice, ¿verdad?

Mi primer día

Posted: March 1, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Context, Ministry, Sense of Place | Tags: , | 2 Comments

I’m slowly starting to get settled into the parsonage in Eagle Pass. It will be a slow process to get the books shelved, the pictures hung, and the clothes unpacked.

Today was my first actual working day as pastor of San Lucas. I’m still getting used to functioning more in Spanish, and learning about the congregation, its context and my role. Here are some highlights from mi primer día:

I snooped around my office in the morning, getting a feel for the administrative stuff. I’ll do most of my writing and computer work from the study in the parsonage, but will be present a few hours a week in the church office, likely the same hours as the food bank, Tuesday and Thursday mornings. The food bank at San Lucas serves about 160 families from the community every month, and the congregation has a strong team of volunteers who helps it run smoothly. Today I ate tacos with some of the volunteers.

In the afternoon, I rode in the church van with two volunteers to pick up some food donations from Wal-Mart. They make the trip three days a week. Wal-Mart has been very generous to San Lucas. We took the food back to the church to sort and put it away. I’m starting to learn the nuances of recording and reporting the activities of the food bank.

After some more office tasks, including a call to check in with my bishop on this first day, I had a meal of soup and tostadas with a family from the congregation. I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the learning I need to do, but it is a good start to an exciting ministry.

Hopes and fears

Posted: February 25, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Context, Ministry, Sense of Place, Spanish, Stewardship | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

As I get ready to start as pastor of a Spanish-speaking congregation en la frontera that is heavily dependent on financial mission support from partner congregations, the synod, and denomination, I name and claim things that intimidate me and those things that invigorate my eager anticipation.

Cosas que me dan miedo—Things that really freak me out:

Preaching in Spanish: It’s not my native language. Though I can usually get my ideas across, there’s always the worry I might embarrassingly conjugate a verb incorrectly or say the wrong noun. Just the other day, I was lunching at a seafood restaurant with San Lucas’ interim pastor and a lay leader, and I almost ordered pecado instead of pescado—sin instead of fish.

Crossing the border: I know there’s a perception of danger. Though I’ve heard that cartel issues aren’t as peligroso in Piedras Negras as in Juarez or Nuevo Laredo, there is still a risk in crossing the border. Also, ever since my one and only speeding ticket eight years ago, I start to feel nervous around cops and folks with badges and uniforms. I’ll soon get used to border checkpoints. My family is a bit concerned, too. My mom always worries about her kids. Just a few days before I moved to New York for internship, Law & Order was on TV, and an address of a scene of some sort of violent crime flashed on the screen. “Mom, you know that’s just three blocks from where I’m moving.” I’m sure she’ll have similar concerns once I’m in Eagle Pass.

Fundraising: Much of San Lucas’ income comes from outside the congregation. As I wrote to my previous congregation informing them of this new call, it doesn’t make sense to leave one congregation and go to another with an even more precarious financial situation. Not knowing the future of my salary is somewhat daunting. When I was a kid selling Boy Scout popcorn or orchestra candy bars, I hated asking people to buy stuff. I know stewardship is different, but it’s still out of my comfort zone.

Cosas que me dan animo—Things that inspire and excite me:

Preaching in Spanish: I know that I’m not the erudite homiletical craftsperson in Spanish that like to think that I am in English. My sermons won’t be as good in Spanish, yet I’m really looking forward to not keeping God in my own English-speaking box, and encountering what the Gospel is like in another language. It’s also bad stewardship for me to have skills and abilities that I don’t use. I’m afraid that if I don’t keep speaking Spanish, I will forget what I’ve learned. Also, what better way is there for me to become a better hispanohablante than to have to speak in Spanish?

Crossing the border: My response whenever somebody comments about the possible danger on the border is, “Well, that’s exactly the place the Church needs to be.” I keep on praying that prayer from page 128 in the green Lutheran Book of Worship, “Lord God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.” I don’t know what ministry on both sides of the border will be like, but I trust God in the midst of it all.

Building up mission partners: Instead of thinking about it as fundraising, I frame it as developing relationships; it’s about more than money. It’s about connections and community. I’ve seen “mission trip” situations become messy and insensitive. Far too often, it becomes “the rich white people help those poor brown people.” This arrangement is one-sided and embarrassing. I’d like to avoid this. However, I think San Lucas already has a good handle on this. Several congregations have been strong mission partners, making several visits to Eagle Pass and Piedras Negras a year for years. It’s a long term relationship, being Church together. I want to be a part of these friendships and mutuality!

I want to acc-cent-chu-ate the positive. There’s more that inspires me! 

Oodles of kids: When I visited San Lucas on a Sunday, I counted about 120 folks in worship; probably 25 of these were under age ten. Having a critical mass of children in worship gives the liturgy a wonderful energy.

Adult learning: San Lucas has a midweek class on Bible study and Lutheran doctrine that between 25-30 people come to. I love teaching, and I love learning with a group. I’m usually not a big numbers guy, but to have nearly a quarter of Sunday worship attendance at a midweek learning class is an impressive statistic that I haven’t seen very often in Lutheran congregations.

Living in a neighborhood: One thing I’ve missed while living in suburban San Antonio has been a walkable neighborhood. I’ve been in a gated apartment community on the freeway. Somebody at San Lucas told me that when I give directions to the church, I need to have a reference point. Nobody knows what the street address means, but everybody there knows what “Down the road from Panchito’s” means. I look forward to having an independent mini-supermercado like Panchito’s near my house. I won’t need to drive two miles just to get a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter.

I know that the grass isn’t always greener. I know there will be challenges, yet I await this ministry with hope and a sense of adventure.