Guest Post by Sibley Fleming

Sibley Fleming wrote this for our blog here. I'm merely posting it for her.

I missed a stewardship meeting Saturday. It promised to be lovely and enlightening, an evening talking about the meaning of giving--attitudes toward money against the backdrop of our current national financial crisis.

I had known about the meeting. Nancy Dillion had called me at the end of the day Friday to remind me and re-extend the invitation. I told her it was unlikely given the amount of extra freelance work that I'’d taken on lately, but I’'d try. Nancy encouraged me to come at a break point and promised a glass of wine and good company if I did.

The next morning at the early service, Nancy slid into a pew behind me somewhere around the reading of Matthew. A sanctuary of deep brown wood, the trees blazing red through the windows. A beautiful Patricia sermon about being the recipient of giving, about expanding. About experiencing the joy of gratitude, about looking around us, and acknowledging our many, many blessings. In the time of circling the wagons around, of people losing their jobs, the need to replace fear with concern.

As we were confessing our sins— -- something I’m particularly fond of doing, mainly because I have so many— -- the sermon rolled around in my head. How did I deal with giving? What had I been taught? No matter how little a person has, he should not be denied the joy of giving, even if it means giving away something received as a gift. Of course that was my grandmother’'s wisdom, formed in the Great Depression. In those same years when my views of the world were being learned, my young hippie mother would get a big smile on her face, dramatically throw back her long hair and recite: "What’'s yours is mine and what’'s mine is mine", as if it were Shakespeare.

The split-even image of my grandmother and mother dissolved into the words that dutifully fell from my lips, a murmuring chant . . . that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways, to the Glory of your name, forever and ever amen."

The altar was dressed with a fall floral arrangement, warm oranges and bright yellows, reds, all that picked up the colors outside, framed by the clear windows as if they were stained glass. As I knelt for communion, I quickly reminded myself— -- courage and strength—, not just forgiveness and comfort. In the end, I prayed for all four. The piece of bread, the sip of wine, and thanks be to God!

I quickly dropped my prayer book into its place underneath the pew in front of my pew, and turned to catch Nancy before she rose. I apologized for missing the stewardship meeting and asked what had happened, what had been said, thought or decided. The conversation quickly turned to the current financial crisis, the state of our culture, the evil empire of credit. An overindulgent period of having so much more than we need.

Nancy is a realtor so she knows what’'s going on at ground zero. These days, she told me, people are mostly moving because of job changes. They’'re getting jobs in other places so far away from home that they have to pull up all their tent stakes, pack the camels and leave. Up goes the for-sale sign, but it’s not that simple—. They must deal with all their stuff, the mounds and mounds of stuff from catalogues, malls and shopping centers. And I imagine in this climate, in that particular situation, there are people out there having a very Come-to-Jesus moment. What do I need with all of this junk?

I am a U.S. citizen and I know firsthand--we are a nation of people who have more than we need. Should I be wasteful with my resources when just by being mindful, I might find I have more than enough to share with others who are in need?

Personally, at my company, it was in the Spring when they told us we were in a hiring and salary freeze. No cost of living increase. Be glad you have a job. As the months have passed I find more and more that I am indeed happy to be employed. When I talk to others who are working for a steady pay check, they seem to feel the same, "thank God" we say in secret code. We prosper or at least survive while others are not so lucky, a number that grows each day by thousands. We hear stories on the radio about food stamps, how much they’'ll buy, what people do when they run out. They’'ll turn to churches and charity organizations.

So what do I have? I have a family and a job and a roof over my head. I have early morning services at St. Dunstan’'s and on this beautiful fall Sunday afternoon, I have a fire in the fireplace. I’ll actually have to get my extra work done at one point, maybe in the next 15 minutes. And truth be told, I should be grateful for that.