Some months back I was in Indianapolis for "Our Life Together."  Our bishop invites his elders to gather with him twice yearly for worship and fellowship and conversation on a topic of his choosing.  At our most recent "togetherness" we celebrated Bishop Coyner's ministry and leadership in the Conference.  He's retiring this year after over forty years of ministry; sixteen as a United Methodist Bishop.  He will preside over his last Indiana Annual Conference this June.  Our topic, as you might have imagined, was focused around congratulations and thanksgiving and best wishes for the future.  We will receive our new bishop September 1st, 2016.  We won't know who that will be until after the Jurisdictional Conference being convened in Peoria, Illinois, July 13-16.  This time of transition is both exciting and daunting.  New leadership at the highest levels of the UMC is a time for farewells and welcoming.  We will have opportunities for both; one to say farewell to Bishop Coyner and another to welcome his successor.  I hope the Calvary family will participate in both of these events as times and places are announced. 

I like words.  I use them with a regularity that borders on obsessive.  I suppose that could be said about any human who speaks and reads and writes.  The necessity by which I must use them makes my obsession less observable to the naked eye.  I pray and sing and deliver sermons; all of which require words.  I am scheduled weekly to write a "Pastor's Memo" and monthly a "Navigator Page."  Email requires words whether reading or replying or composing.  When I delve into a Hebrew Scripture passage and find an obscure word or one I believe needs a bit of tweaking to reveal a proper nuance, well, I just love it.  Words are adventurous things and they possess a quality that is almost magical.  By the way they sound or rhyme or the rhythm by which they roll off the tongue can bring delight and comfort.  Some words are harsh and direct and how they are said leaves no doubt about their meaning.  I'm fascinated as to how words become language and convey meaning and emotion.  What's more, the written word can do all that down the ages and echo across time to hearers and readers not yet alive.  It's as if they have a power outside our comprehension.  I'll let you in on a secret: my favorite word is Julia.

Mrs. Pring.  Sadly, I do not remember her first name.  She was my first grade teacher at Wallace Elementary School in Kokomo, Indiana.  I remember we would form a semi-circle with our chairs and she would read to us.  I remember she would make sure we had our own lunch as we marched off to the cafeteria.  I remember recess without too much supervision; although, I'm sure there were teachers keeping a keen eye on us.  I remember film strips and flannel boards and wooden map puzzles.  First grade was fifty-six years ago.  I don't know if anyone ever failed the first grade.  I did not fail and was passed to Mrs. Deglar's second grade class.  Don't remember her first name, either.  I do remember her classroom was in the basement of Wallace.  These two women and several others (across the years) taught me to read and write and count and spell and not cut in line and wait my turn and other important life skills.  To them I am indebted.  I only thanked one teacher personally after I left the classroom and that was Miss Elizabeth Handley.  I sat in her World Literature class as a senior in high school.  I wish I had thanked many more of my teachers.  It's too late to make amends about that now.  I'm left to remember them quite inadequately in a pastor's memo but more profoundly in my prayers. 

 Did you know the two stone lions standing in front of the New York Public Library have names?  New Yorkmayor Fiorello LaGuardia named them "Patience and Fortitude."  Two characteristics he, no doubt, thought were in demand during his time as mayor of that great city (1934-45).  Born to an Italian father and Jewish mother in Greenwich Village, he was raised as an Episcopalian.  He was only five feet two inches tall and was affectionately known as "The Little Flower."  It is the literal translation of the Italian for his first name, Fiorello.  He was mayor of New York City during the depression through the end of WW II. He was robust and pugnacious.  He was anti-mob and corruption.  He was a Republican who wanted better treatment for immigrants.  He was a veteran of WW I having served in the Army Air Service rising to the rank of major.  This "Little Flower" was beloved and respected.  New York named an airport for him.  The lions named by him seem to take the measure of the mayor.  Who wouldn't be honored if Patience and Fortitude were characteristics which best reflected our lives?  Which two would you choose?  Better still, which two would others engrave on your tomb stone?