Heaven Is Not a Gated Community

Following is the sermon I preached for November 4, 2012, All Saints' Sunday.

Sermon for All Saints’ Sunday

November 4, 2012, Year B

Text:  Revelation 21:1-6a

            In June, late August, September, and October of this year, I lived with my parents in their new home in Apollo Beach, Florida.  Now, there were good things and bad things about this situation.  But one thing that irritated me the entire time I was there was that my parents lived in a gated community.  This gated community was meant exclusively for people who were age 55 and over.  As family of someone who lived in this community, I was allowed to stay with my parents for a certain amount of time, but I could not live there indefinitely.  And, every time I drove my car out of the neighborhood—which, being a young and independent woman, I wanted to do quite frequently—I knew that, when I returned, I would have to announce myself at the gatehouse and get the guard to let me in.  After a while, the regular guards knew who I was and automatically let me in with a wave and a smile.  But, when there was a replacement on duty, he would scrutinize his list, make sure I was on it, sometimes ask to see my ID, and write my license plate number down.  Now, I want to be clear that I’m not faulting him for this.  He took his job seriously, and that’s a good thing.  But, as the days wore on, I really began to feel like I was merely tolerated in this community and not truly welcomed.  And that’s when I began to think about the whole concept of gated communities, and I began to realize that, no matter how beautiful the community is—and where my folks live is well-kept-up and beautiful—the purpose behind them is to keep the “undesirable” people out.  And I was one of those “undesirables”.  That had never happened to me before, and it is an unpleasant feeling.  And as I continued to think about it, I knew that one day, I wanted to preach a sermon entitled “Heaven is not a gated community.”  So, when this Revelation text came up for All Saints’ Sunday, I was very excited.  Here we see John’s vision of heaven, described in absolutely beautiful language, and we know that heaven is not a gated community, but it is a future time and place where all people are welcome, are loved, and are wanted.

            Now, you might be asking yourselves why I think this is important.  Of course, we may say to ourselves, all people are welcome in heaven, loved, and wanted.  It doesn’t matter how old we are, what color our skin is, what our sins are, etc.; as long as we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of our sins and are baptized, of course we will go to heaven.  But, wait a second, did you see what just happened there?  We put up gates to the entrance of heaven. 

Let’s tackle the baptism gate first.  Now, I’m not saying that baptism is unimportant—quite the contrary.  I believe that it is, indeed, a sacrament, one in which the Holy Spirit enters into a person, be she infant or adult, and claims that person as one of God’s own and a member of the church.  But, what happens when a person grows up in the Baptist church, as an example, and believes in adult baptism only, but dies before he is baptized?  Is his lack of baptism going to prevent him from entering heaven?  I don’t know the answer to that question, and frankly, I am afraid to make that pronouncement one way or another.  In such cases, I rely on what I know of God—that he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love—and trust that God will care for such a person according to that nature.

Now, what about the “belief in Jesus” gate?  Again, here I want to tread carefully, because I believe that trust in the Lord Jesus is essential for the forgiveness of sins.  But I want to tell you a story about a man from my childhood, whose name was George.  When I was a child, I hated having to try new shoes on in a store, and I would start screaming every time someone tried to make me try on a new pair of shoes.  I don’t know why—this was one of my many strange quirks when I was little, and my mother could tell you a whole bunch of stories about other ones!  George worked at a shoe store in New Britain, Connecticut, where my father was born and had grown up.  George helped my father and uncles stay in shoes, even when my grandparents couldn’t afford to pay for those shoes right away.  On a visit to Connecticut when I was young, my parents brought me to this shoe store for a new pair of shoes, and they warned George about my strange behavior.  He just smiled and said, “Oh, something must have frightened her.”  So, my parents told me to go pick out a new pair of shoes, which I did.  They had me sit down, and George measured my foot and got the right size for me.  When he began to put the shoe on my foot, I screwed up my face and got ready to scream, and George distracted me by pointing to a monkey hanging from the ceiling and saying, “Oh, Tonya, look at the silly monkey.”  And as I was looking, he got the shoe on my foot, and did the same thing for the other one.  He was the first person who could put shoes on my feet without me screaming, and my parents were convinced he would go to heaven simply for that miracle.  The only problem was this:  George was Jewish.  And my parents believed in John 14:6, where Jesus says, “I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.”  Trying to reconcile that belief with the gentle and kind person George was, all they could come up with was, “Well, maybe God can carve out a little corner of heaven for George.”

Amy-Jill Levine is Professor of New Testament Studies at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee, and she is Jewish.  In her book, The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus, she offers up her own interpretation of John 14:6.  Since she tells it in story form, I would like to read the story to you directly from her book.     

"After a long and happy life, I find myself at the pearly gates. . .Standing there is St. Peter. This truly is heaven, for finally my academic questions will receive answers. I immediately begin the questions that have been plaguing me for half a century:  'Can you speak Greek? Where did you go when you wandered off in the middle of Acts? How was the incident between you and Paul in Antioch resolved? What happened to your wife?'

Peter looks at me with some bemusement and states, 'Look, lady, I've got a whole line of saved people to process. Pick up your harp and slippers here, and get the wings and halo at the next table. We'll talk after dinner.'

As I float off, I hear, behind me, a man trying to gain Peter's attention. He has located a 'red letter Bible,' which is a text in which the words of Jesus are printed in red letters. . . .The fellow has his Bible open to John 14, and he is frenetically pointing at v. 6: 'Jesus says here, in red letters, that he is the way. I've seen this woman on television. . . .She's not Christian; she's not baptized--she shouldn't be here!'

'Oy,' says Peter, 'another one--wait here.'

He returns a few minutes later with a man about five foot three with dark hair and eyes. I notice immediately that he has holes in his wrists, for when the empire executes an individual, the circumstances of that death cannot be forgotten.

'What is it, my son?' he asks.

The man, obviously nonplussed, sputters, 'I don't mean to be rude, but didn't you say that no one comes to the Father except through you?'

'Well,' responds Jesus, 'John does have me saying this. . . .But if you flip back to the Gospel of Matthew, which does come first in the canon, you'll notice in chapter 25, at the judgment of the sheep and the goats, that I am not interested in those who say 'Lord, Lord,' but in those who do their best to live a righteous life: feeding the hungry, visiting people in prison. . . '

Becoming almost apoplectic, the man interrupts, 'But, but, that's works righteousness. You're saying she's earned her way into heaven?'

'No,' replies Jesus, 'I am not saying that at all. I am  saying that I am the way, not you, not your church, not your reading of John's Gospel, and not the claim of any individual Christian or any particular congregation. I am making the determination, and it is by my grace that anyone gets in, including you. Do you want to argue?'

The last thing I recall seeing, before picking up my heavenly accessories, is Jesus handing the poor man a Kleenex to help get the log out of his eye."  (p. 92-93)

I think Levine’s point is a good one, and one that helps me to understand both the case of the unbaptized person and the person who doesn’t believe in Jesus.  John’s Gospel says elsewhere that Jesus is the gate, and in that sense alone, we could say that heaven is a “gated community”.  But it is not baptism and belief in Jesus that are the gates to heaven.  Jesus himself is the gate to heaven, and Jesus alone determines who is in and who is out.  

Now, if you’ve been listening to me up to this point, you’re probably a bit disturbed by all this.  I’ll be honest with you—I’m still working through the implications of all of this myself.  But one advantage to looking at heaven in this way is that it brings us some comfort.  When a beloved friend or family member dies who either was unbaptized or a nonbeliever, we may be uncertain about their fate, but we can trust in God’s good and merciful nature to take care of that person.   Another advantage to it is this:  because we do not decide who is in and who is out of heaven, but instead Jesus does, it enables us to be merciful and gracious to others who may not share our beliefs.  There was a joke I once heard where St. Peter was taking a new arrival on a tour around heaven.  They came to a closed door, and the person asked, “What’s in there?”  St. Peter said, “Shhh!  Those are the Missouri Synod Lutherans, and they think they’re the only ones up here!”  As ELCA Lutherans, we may have many more ecumenical partnerships than the LCMS, but do we still fall into the trap of thinking that ours is the only right way?  By believing that Jesus is the only one who determines who goes into heaven, we can follow and worship Him in the way in which we best understand our Christian faith, but we can do so with humility and a belief that we as Lutherans will not be the only ones in heaven.  This enables us to share our faith with others in a gentle manner, and not condemn those who do not believe as we do.

We are not heaven’s gatekeepers.  We are not in charge of keeping the “undesirable” people out.  In a society which is more and more polarized, we would do well to remember that.  The image that the lesson from Revelation gives us today is that of a time and a place where God will always be tangibly present with us, and where there will be no more mourning, no more crying, no more pain, and no more death.  All of us will dwell with God.  And, in the words of one of my seminary professors, “All means all.”  We may be surprised at who we will see and who we won’t see.  And while we wait here on earth, we can keep this hopeful vision in our mind’s eye, looking forward to the time when we will be reunited with all of the saints whom we remember today.  With this vision in our heads, and remembering that we are not heaven’s gatekeepers, we can work on showing Jesus’ love to all people, with the hope that we will all be together again with God one day.

Thoughts on the Journey

Well, I am ordained as of Saturday, October 13, and as of the 14th, am on my way to Powell, Wyoming!  This journey has been interesting, because the route my parents and I are taking involves some reliving of the past in order to get to the future.

Our first day took us to Knoxville, Tennessee, to drop off my grandmother, who had come up to Virginia for my ordination.  We spent the night there with my mother's family.  I tried to work on my sermon for this Sunday while my family members talked to me, and I showed them all the wonderful pictures my brother had taken at the ordination.  Then, the following day, we took off.  Our first stop was St. Louis, Missouri, and the route was: I-40 West to Nashville, pick up I-24 West to the end, take I-57 North, and pick up I-64 West into St. Louis.  Traveling down I-40 to Nashville brought back many memories of going to Crossville, where my grandmother still lives, and then to Nashville, where my other grandparents lived before they passed away.  Familiar exits off of the highway were recognized, and I shook my head in disbelief that signs at Briley Parkway directing the driver to Opryland were still there, despite the fact that Opryland has not existed for many years now.  Another childhood memory destroyed by commercialism:  Opry Mills, a shopping center, now exists in place of the amusement park my grandparents took us to every summer when we were children.  As we got onto I-24, I remembered having taken that highway from St. Louis down to Nashville to visit my grandparents after I found out my grandfather had been diagnosed with AML leukemia in 2004.  And finally, taking I-64 into St. Louis reminded me of all of the times I had driven that route when I lived there for two years, attending Concordia Seminary.

It was interesting being back in St. Louis again, thinking about how my journey that eventually led to ordination began in a church body that does not ordain women.  We met a good friend of mine for dinner that evening.  She told me that when I had called to let her know that we had arrived and to make arrangements for us to meet up for dinner, that when she got off the phone she said to a professor who was standing there that she had spoken with "Pastor Tonya".  This professor, whom I had had for a class when I was at the seminary, reportedly said, "Don't call her that."  Newly ordained for just a few days, my call is not recognized as valid by this particular professor/pastor and probably by many more within the LCMS.  I have always said that I have no problems if someone's conscience and interpretation of the Bible does not allow for the ordination of women, and this is still true.  But I do have a problem when the person is going to be obnoxious about it and not even recognize me as an ordained minister.  So to this particular professor and ordained minister, I wish to say the following:  I have followed God's call upon my life as I have understood it.  To leave the LCMS was not a decision I made easily, but in the end, I did make it.  To do otherwise would have been to go against God's calling upon my life, which is not a good thing to do.  I understand that you have a problem with women as ordained pastors, and I respect that.  But at least be respectful, and do not tell others who may disagree with your viewpoint not to call me a pastor.

The journey through the past continued today as we followed the route through Missouri, Iowa, and into South Dakota that my mother and I had taken at the beginning of my trip up to Alaska.  Vague memories of that first day came to the fore, especially as I remembered bringing my dog Kolya with me.  My mother and I laughed as we passed the hotel where we had stayed the first night.  Tomorrow our journey continues, and we will be traveling the route, in reverse, that my mother and I took back from Alaska: crossing South Dakota into Wyoming.  This time we are very glad to not have the Sturgis Harley-Davidson rally to contend with, and we are very excited to show my father some of the interesting sights we saw:  the Badlands and Mount Rushmore.  And so, the journey continues.

The LCMS and the ELCA

This past Sunday, I led an adult forum at Holy Trinity Lutheran, Lancaster, PA, where I've been working this summer, on the differences between the Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. The forum went very well, and even as I was presenting the information I had, I realized how much my life has changed since I was a member of the LCMS.

I led this forum because there seems to be so much misunderstanding and hurt between these two bodies of Lutherans, who are now growing even further apart due to some recent decisions made by national bodies in recent years. I've been saddened to see the LCMS pulling out of joint social ministries because of decisions made by the ELCA's Churchwide Assembly in 2009. And while I've often thought, since coming to the ELCA, that much of what I heard about them while I was in the Missouri Synod was distorted, there is also much misunderstanding on the part of members of the ELCA about why churches in the Missouri Synod do some of the things they do: mainly in reference to close(d) communion, but also in reference to the non-ordination of women.

So, I was encouraged and happy to see so many people asking questions about the Missouri Synod in the adult forum. Some of them remember Dr. Benke's prayer in Yankee Stadium post-9/11, and having their non-Lutheran friends ask why "the Lutherans" were angry at him, and having to say that they weren't "those Lutherans". I said in response that after the ELCA's social statement on sexuality of 2009, and allowing homosexuals in committed relationships to be ordained, that my grandmother's LCMS church in Tennessee had to say that "We aren't 'those Lutherans'" in response to conservative churches around them who were metaphorically throwing stones at them. And I did my best to explain why the LCMS does not ordain women, and why their understanding of communion is different from the ELCA (this last engendered the most questions from the group), referring them to the LCMS website for further detail on this.

This was an opportunity for me to reflect on my journey and my experiences with both Lutheran bodies. And as I was talking with someone this afternoon about the forum, I realized, and I said, "I love both the ELCA and the LCMS." And it is true. I am so grateful to my Missouri Synod heritage for the value they place on education, and knowing what it is you believe. I am glad for the churches that I served as a deaconess in the LCMS for giving me the opportunity to grow and to challenge me in the work that I was doing. I am thankful for the opportunity to study the Bible in depth at Concordia Seminary and getting my M.A. in exegetical theology. And I'm also grateful to my home congregation of the ELCA, Grace Lutheran in Waynesboro, Virginia, for welcoming me with open arms and loving me as I was discerning where God was calling me and what I believed. I am thankful to my candidacy committee for discerning God's call with me in the last few years of seminary and internship. I am thankful for Gettysburg Seminary welcoming me with open arms without any ostracism because of my Missouri Synod background. And I am thankful to the ELCA for allowing me to follow my call and to be who God truly means me to be, with no restrictions based on gender. They are truly living out Galatians 3:28.

In the years to come, as I go where God calls me to go in ordained ministry, I hope to work for more understanding between these two Lutheran church bodies. If local LCMS churches are willing to work with my congregation on joint social ministry projects, I will be one of those pastors who will be willing to work with them. And I will understand if they feel they cannot work with me because of their beliefs, and while I will be saddened, I will honor those beliefs. And I will pray that one day, there may be greater unity between us.

Confessions

OK, so I have something to confess: I really, really dislike being at church on the Sunday closest to Independence Day, which happens to be today this year. If I have no responsibilities at church that morning, it is the one time of the year that I willingly stay home from church (along with Mother's Day, but since churches are getting better about the way they treat that in recent years, I do usually go now). The reason why is the mixture of church and state which inevitably happens in American churches on this day. Today we sang, "O Beautiful for Spacious Skies," and as I sang the lyrics, I realized that we were not singing this hymn to God, but rather as a paean to the United States, with a prayer, and a quite demanding prayer at that, for God to bless the country.  Lyrics below:

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern impassion'd stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine!

O Beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

My discomfort with this is immense, and the fact that this and other songs like it still make it into the most recent Lutheran hymnal makes me even more uncomfortable. God is supposed to be above all countries--our pastor today even made the point that it is equally possible to be a Christian in a dictatorship as it is in a democracy.  And yet, he had no problem with singing this hymn. 


I'm not saying that we shouldn't be involved in our country, or that we shouldn't love our country.  I believe that as Christians, we have a responsibility towards the good of our country.  What I am saying is that, in the sanctuary, we should be worshiping God and God alone.  And for me, that rules out any of the so-called "national songs" that still manage to make it into the hymnal.


Thank God for the good things given to us in this country.  But never think that God loves this country above all others, or that God is obligated in any way whatsoever to favor us above all other countries.  Pray for the good of this country, but don't think that God will grant us all things just because we're Americans and therefore, God's peeps. And please, next year, think twice before singing national songs in church--read the lyrics beforehand and ask yourself, "Am I singing this to God? Or am I singing this to my country?" And if the answer is the latter, I ask you not to sing it in the sanctuary.

My Brother's Big Fat Greek Wedding

Well, my brother is well and truly married, in the Greek Orthodox fashion. And if you've seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," this is a pretty accurate depiction of a Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony. The church was lovely, and I got to practice reading Greek to figure out who the saints depicted in various icons were, and I got most of them right.

Several people who were at the wedding ceremony remarked that it had a very Jewish feel to it, and I agree with them. In the liturgy, many references were made to Old Testament figures: Isaac & Rebekah, Jacob & Rachel, etc., all the way up to Zechariah & Elizabeth at the beginning of the New Testament. The bridal couple shared a cup of sacramental wine. Much of the ceremony was chanted, both in Greek and in English, but chanted/spoken so fast that I only caught a few words of Greek here and there (with apologies to Drs. Carlson and Voelz, my Greek is unfortunately not that good).

And yet, it was a Christian ceremony. I cringed on the inside as Ephesians 5 with the Haustafel (household code) was read, and remembered translating that with Dr. Carlson, talking about the canon within a canon, etc. But it was very clear that the Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony has passages like Ephesians 5 in mind as a model for marriage. The couple did not speak vows to one another because the wedding is not viewed as a contract in the Greek Orthodox church. Instead, the bride and groom are crowned queen and king of their household, and the priest declares them betrothed to one another. Everything is done in threes, in honor of the Trinity. The Kyrie was chanted three times (about the second time I started wondering what was going on--didn't we pray for these people already???) , the rings were crossed three times before being put on the couple's hands, the crowns were crossed three times before being placed on the couple's heads, and the couple circled the altar three times, being joined by the ribbon connecting their crowns. I can't help wondering if the Western Church had retained more of its connection to its Jewish roots, if our wedding ceremonies and our services would have more of this type of flavor to it. I loved the ritual, but would have thrown out the Ephesians passage. The Gospel that was chanted (yes, both of these lengthy passages were chanted--it was awesome!) was the wedding at Cana where Jesus did his first miracle: changing water into wine. And I remember struggling to preach on that text in the Wedding Proclamation class that I took at seminary, because the text really has nothing to do with weddings and marriage per se. But as I listened to it being chanted, and to the liturgy that mentioned this, I realized that the reason this is done at weddings is because Jesus blessed the couple being married at Cana with his presence, and that the church prays for the presence of Jesus at the wedding of the couple that is happening now. Hopefully I will remember this in the future when I will be asked to preach at weddings on this text.

In any case, the ceremony was beautiful and I was proud to stand with my brother and his bride, as well as all of their friends, on that day. I pray that many happy years together will be granted to them.

Observations on Florida

It's been a little while since I wrote something on this blog. The last several days have been consumed with traveling and settling in to this new community I find myself a part of while I am waiting for a call out West. But, here are just a few random observations and musings on what I've seen since being here.

1. Florida is an odd place. I think, several years ago, I made the same comment about Texas, so I'm not sure if this is just because it's a subtropical climate, or if the culture here is truly different. But this is just odd. You have gated retirement communities, of which my parents' house is a part (more on that in a little bit), "playground" areas where amusement parks and other tourist attractions reside, desolate swampland, part of which we drove through yesterday on our way back and forth to Fort Lauderdale, the horse country of Ocala, which looks like something you might see in Kentucky, and then the "hillbilly/redneck" part of Florida. And you might be driving in the desolate swampland and then *bing* with no warning, you're in civilization/touristy playground area.

2. Gated communities, retirement and otherwise. I'm really not sure how I feel about this, as this is my first experience living in one. Where my parents live is one of the communities run by Del Webb, and it is a 55 and over only community. As someone under the age limit, I have a certain time limit as to how long I can live here with my parents; my father doesn't know what the time limit is, except that there is one. (Let's hope for a call process that will enable me to move out by the end of the summer!) I have a visitors' pass for my car, which I will have to get renewed periodically. And I'm on the "permanent list" meaning I always have permission to enter and exit the community as long as my folks are here, even when I'm no longer living here. This is a very orderly, well-kept up community. But, I feel like an unwelcome guest; an oddity. If I want to go swimming, I must be accompanied by one of my parents. So I think there is something inherently classist about this--no "undesirables" are wanted here, and I'm here only by permission. I'm taking this experience with me into ministry--I do not want my future congregation to be any kind of "gated community" and I will work hard to see that we are truly welcoming to all. (And I hope that someone will call me on it if I start to fall into the trap of not wanting "undesirables", whoever they may be, in my congregation.)

3. The climate, and the birds. There's a reason that people come to Florida in the winter and not in the summer. It's hot. I mean, really hot. And humid. I'm hibernating inside the air conditioning and swimming with my folks when I'm able to. There's a reason that Florida is also nicknamed "The Sunshine State". Lots of sunshine, especially first thing in the morning, and then the clouds roll in in the afternoon/evening. Sometimes there are also thunderstorms in the evening, which break the heat and humidity for a little while. And, I've gotten to know a whole new variety of birds that frequent the canal that runs in the back of my parents' yard: ahingas, ibises (white and glossy), whistling ducks, herons, egrets, and many others, including old standbys: mockingbirds and boat-tailed grackles. Bird watching may become my new hobby while I'm here.

Those are initial observations. This week on Saturday my brother gets married. Tomorrow my grandmother flies in to Florida, and the chaos will begin. I will try to post more observations this week as I'm able.

A Meditation on Birds

My father loves birds. When he and my mother were first married, they had a parakeet named Zeus. After a couple of incidents where my father deliberately let the bird out of the cage when my mother was doing dishes so it could divebomb her, and her threats to drown it, I think they decided that they would admire birds only in nature from then on. And so, in most of the places we've lived, we've fed the birds and had birdhouses. In fact, the angriest I have ever seen my father get was when I was a teenager, and a crow swooped in and stole a baby robin out of its nest in one of our pine trees. The next year, as if God knew we needed a policeman in the yard, a mockingbird family took up residence. We never had a problem with the crows after that.

One of the neat things about the place that we've lived here in Virginia is the variety of birds that come to our feeder. We could sit at the kitchen table or out on the back porch and watch the birds while we were eating: we almost didn't need the TV or the newspaper. And I now can identify a number of birds by their markings and even, sometimes, by their song, thanks to this incredible gift of birds. Some of the birds we've seen include: towhees, titmice, cardinals, blue jays, bluebirds, sparrows, mourning doves, brown-headed cowbirds, Carolina wrens, indigo buntings, chickadees, goldfinches, purple finches, woodpeckers of various kinds, crows, and mockingbirds, catbirds, and brown thrashers, as well as hummingbirds.  (That's not an exhaustive list by any means.) There was one chickadee who liked to splash around in the water that we put out for the birds to drink (not a bird bath, but a bird waterer) and we called him/her "clean chick".

I remember one day when I drove home from somewhere or other, there was a black racer snake in the driveway. Now, I have a phobia of snakes. I'm just scared to death of them. But even so, I'm not going to kill it just because I don't like it. God made snakes, too, even if I shudder at them, and the snake had a right to be there, too. So I managed to drive around it and park the car in my spot in the driveway. But now, I was in a dilemma, because the snake lay directly in the path from the car to the front door of the house. As I sat in the car and pondered what to do, out of nowhere, a mockingbird swooped down and chased the snake off into the bushes. Thanking God and the mockingbird, I got out of the car and rushed into the house before the snake could reappear.

As we are preparing to leave the house, my parents decided to let the bird seed in the feeder run out and not to refill it, even though we have plenty of bird seed left in the garage. But last night, we happened to look out the window and see that a bird, trying to get at seed that was pushed way back out of reach in the feeder, had gotten its head stuck in one of the holes of the feeder. So, we all went out there and Dad basically destroyed the feeder in order to get the bird unstuck. Miraculously, the bird seemed unhurt, and hopped off into the bushes to recover, chirping the whole way. Hopefully it was chirping in gratitude for Dad's help rather than chirping in anger at us for letting the seed run out and causing it to get stuck.

Today my parents' real estate agent came over to the house to talk to my parents about stuff, and mentioned how he had become a fan of the birds by watching the birds at our feeder out of the kitchen window. He said that after we leave this week, he would continue feeding the birds until the seed that we have left in the garage runs out. Who knows--after that he may buy some more and continue feeding them, if he hasn't gotten the house sold by then, that is.

Where my parents live in Florida offers new kinds of birds for viewing--mainly water birds like egrets, cormorants, and herons, although in the winter they had a bald eagle couple nesting on a nearby cell phone tower. While those birds are neat to watch, too, I will miss the steady friends of the Eastern woodlands, whose antics I have laughed at over the years, whose colors I have admired, and even whose songs I have learned to identify. Hopefully whoever moves in to this house will continue to feed these beautiful birds.