Teresa’s Note: August 2, 2024

Dear friends and members of University UMC: I write to you from the beautiful shore of Lake Superior. A few days ago, my family and I enjoyed exploring Rochester, Minnesota, where my husband Paul was born. We drove by his childhood home and saw the church where his father was pastor during that time. Some of his extended family joined us and it was fun to hear Paul and his sister reminisce. We made our way to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where good friends have provided the best hospitality at their home–which sits on Lake Superior’s shore. The past few days we’ve enjoyed the wonder of creation here in this place including hikes, sunset views, and kayaking. (Clare is still holding out for a view of The Northern Lights.). I also ate my first thimbleberry. I love berries of all kinds, but the thimbleberry is new to me. It’s similar to a raspberry in shape but is smaller and more delicate. As you might guess, these berries are also shaped like a thimble. Their leaves seem disproportionate in size with a large shrub of those green leaves yielding only a handful of berries–if you’re lucky and careful when picking. I soon understood why thimbleberry jam sells at such a high price. Thimbleberry Bush On one hike I was consumed picking every ripe thimbleberry I came across. I placed them carefully in my open hand and with my diligence (or as Paul called it my obsession!), I ended up gathering a little pile in no time. At first, I was rather pleased with my efforts. But between the fragility of the berries and the warmth of my hand, I soon realized the pile I was so proud of was quickly turning soft with juice from the berries staining parts of my hand. I found a ziplock bag in my backpack and kept picking with fantasies of a thimbleberry cobbler dancing in my mind. How much would it take? I had about ½ a cup so far, but as time passed the pile of berries seemed to shrink. And I hadn’t even eaten any! Melting and getting smaller in the sun, I imagined I’d need at least another 10 cups for a modest few servings. As I picked, I thought about the precious quality of these berries and how they are like other precious gifts - namely, hope. Like the thimbleberry, hope can seem a rare find. When I come across it, I delight in gathering the hope–holding it with care as if I can preserve it for another time. But gifts and the things that delight us are often best enjoyed in the moment. I’m sharing a few pictures and quotes below. The pictures capture recent moments of delight. The quotes offer a turning towards the voices of indigenous and African-American women–voices we are called to learn from and value. One quote, by the Native American scientist Robin Wall Kimmerer, reminds me of the gift of creation. Her words, “Even a wounded world is feeding us”, both haunt and comfort me. And two additional quotes are by Black authors, Cole Arthur Riley and Austin Channing Brown, speaking about hope. I’m learning when hope presents itself, it is best to consume it. Or rather, to let it consume me. What a joy to be your pastor! Teresa Hiking in The Upper Peninsula Sunset on Lake Superior “This is the shadow of hope. Knowing that we may never see the realization of our dreams, and yet still showing up. I do not believe that I or my children or my grandchildren will live in an America that has achieved racial equality. I do not believe this is a problem that America will fix within any soon-coming generation. And so I stand in the legacy of all that Black Americans have already accomplished—in their resistance, in their teachings, in their voices, in their faith—and I work toward a world unseen, currently unimaginable.” ― Austin Channing Brown in “I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness” “If your hope is waning, find those who can sustain it. And when the time comes, you will carry someone else’s hope for them. No individual can resist despair on their own. We steady each other. We can’t afford despair.” - Cole Arthur Riley, author “Black Liturgies” “By saying yes to wonder and joy, we return the gifts the earth offers us, and give permission for others to do the same. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.” - Robin Wall Kimmerer in “Braiding Sweetgrass” 2409 Guadalupe Street Austin, Texas 78705 512-478-9387 Want to change how you receive emails from us? Click here to update your preferences or unsubscribe or unsubscribe from this list