There are various schedules of praying the Psalms, and that might be helpful for your daily prayer. Some of the schedules are thematic -- as in the daily lectionary in the new Evangelical Lutheran Worship, where daily Psalms are keyed to the theme of the Sunday readings. Other schedules lead us through the Psalms consecutively. If you follow the direction in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, for instance, you will pray through all the Psalms during a month's time.

Regular praying of the Psalms is so helpful because it so often happens that an appointed Psalm puts into words of faith exactly what you are feeling or experiencing! That could be a feeling of despair, or of complaint, or of intense thanksgiving. The Psalm writer's prayer becomes your own! When it happens, there's a feeling of being deeply centered in God's presence.

Psalm 95 is the unvarying Psalm in the Morning Prayer liturgy. "Oh come, let us sing to the Lord. Let us shout for joy to the rock of our salvation...." What joy there is, in the early morning, out on the screen porch, to pray this verse --

"In his hand are the depths of the earth;
the heights of the mountains are his also.
The sea is his, for he made it,
and the dry land, which his hands have formed."

-- because, while praying it, I am surrounded by the sounds of that creation! It is as if the song sparrow and the house finch and the tufted tit mouse are providing a soundtrack with their singing! I only have to be paying attention, to notice the daily blessings of God's presence that surround me, and to be centered in God's presence.

I remember the first time I prayed Morning Prayer at a beach front cottage, and came to the line from Psalm 95: "The sea is his, for he made it..." I simply found myself staring out across the ocean, lost in the presence of God.

Of course, that only happens when I'm praying a line from a Psalm. If I'm just reading the Psalm, then that's merely intellectual activity, in my head. Then I'm not open to God as I am in prayer.

I remember a dramatic incident of a Psalm describing exactly what we were experiencing. It was during a stay at Mepkin Abbey in South Carolina, where the Trappist monks gather for prayer seven times a day, and the heart of each prayer office is the chanting of the Psalms. (In their worship, the Trappists pray all 150 Psalms every two weeks.)

I had joined them at the first prayer office, Vigils, at 3:30 AM. Before the next prayer office, Lauds, it had started raining, and as monks and visitors made their way back to the church, still in the darkness of early morning, the rain had become torrential! And it happened that one of the appointed Psalms was Psalm 65. With our wet clothes and with the sound of the rain so loud on the roof that it threatened to drown out our voices, we came to verses 9 and 10. None of the monks laughed out loud. But there were smiles and sparkling eyes as they glanced at each other. What joy in being made aware of God's presence and blessings!

As a guide to my daily prayer I use a resource which includes each day's readings from the daily lectionary, and a fourth reading from the Christian tradition. It's called For All the Saints, two volumes for each year. The first volume covers the first Sunday in Advent through the Day of Pentecost. The season of Pentecost (which we've just begun) fills the entire second volume!

This past Sunday, in the midst of our red clothing and red helium-filled balloons and red flowering plants, I heard from several who appreciated the teaching words I said about the Day of Pentecost. It's one of the three principal feast days of the church year, but compared to the other two -- Easter and Christmas -- few even know what Pentecost is about!

Now we are into the season of Pentecost, which lasts for half the year. It's the season of growth in the Holy Spirit. Its very length makes the point that that growth happens over the long haul; that our growth in the Holy Spirit is life-long.

There's some good teaching about Pentecost at a very helpful web site, so let me use this as an opportunity to recommend it to you!

Paste this onto your web browser line: http://www.explorefaith.org/

This web site introduces us to the riches of the Christian tradtion, and to contemporary writers who are recalling those riches. (Currently, there's an interview with Frederica Mathewes-Green. What? You haven't read any of her writings? You need to!)

Memorial Day, 2007, in the midst of the disastrous war in Iraq.

(The caption for the picture above: "Mary McHugh visited the grave of her fiance, Sgt. James J. Regan, who was killed in Iraq in February. He is buried in the new Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetary for those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.")

What a joyous weekend just past! A wedding in our congregation, rehearsal with those who will be affirming their baptisms this coming Sunday, an incredible sermon by Will Willimon at the William and Mary Baccalaureate service, William and Mary graduation, a celebration dinner last night with one of our Lutheran seniors and her family -- AND the big news in our own family of announcing our daughter Emily's engagement to Sheldon Erb.

And what joyous weather! This was a wonderful morning to jump on the bicycle and ride to the Chickahominy River and back, about a 20 mile ride. Much of the ride is on the new Virginia Capital Trail, paralleling Greensprings Road and Rt. 5. What an improvement the trail is to our community's standard of living! So many people use it -- other bicyclists, many people on foot (many walking dogs); I even saw a guy on roller blades this morning. And everyone is open and friendly: smiles and "Good mornings!" From my perspective, though, the best thing about the trail, is that I am well separated from those friggin' dump trucks that are up and down Rt. 5 early in the morning!

A colleague in the Shalem spiritual direction program e-mailed me after seeing the picture of me and my bike, after I'd ridden the 100 miles a couple of Saturdays ago: "I didn't recognize you! It looks like something inside you cracked open during your illness."

What an image! That, during painful experiences, something inside us cracks upon, and new life comes out of that. One of the chaplains at Norfolk General is a friend I've known since moving to Williamsburg, and his visits were very helpful. He would say, "What do you think God is doing in all of this? It may take months to discover that." Certainly, months later, I can say that God is moving to create the new life that's emerging, after being cracked open.

I'm going to get in the car now and drive down for an overnight with the college students at their "beach week" cottage. It'll be some good hours of hanging out, reading, sleeping, conversation: "What has God been doing with you over this past year?" I'll get there soon after lunchtime -- which is when most of the students will be waking up!!

The College Room has been well-used over the past couple of weeks, as our LSA students have been studying for exams and eating the food you've provided and sleeping and breaking into periods of playful rowdiness to cope with the pressure of all the exams and papers and projects. But now (sigh...), one by one, the college students have been stopping by to say, "I'M FINISHED!!"

Remember what a joyous feeling it was, to be finished for a semester?! So why am I so sad? Because now they're leaving for the summer! I'll see many of the students one more time Monday and Tuesday because I'll go down to their "beach week" cottage for an overnight. But some of them are graduating, so they won't be back in the fall, and who knows when I'll see them next?

It's too quiet around here in the summer, when the College Room is dark and empty ...

I made two calls this afternoon. The first one was to Riverside Hospital, where I held a newborn who was seven hours old. The next one was to a nursing home, where I shared conversation and Holy Communion with a woman who is 96 years old!

What a great job I have.

One of the things I love about being in Williamsburg is that I never know who will appear in worship on any given Sunday. On many Sundays, vacationing pastors are in the congregation. I have found myself preaching to vacationing bishops on a couple of occasions. The President of the Alban Institute (an institute which studies the characteristics of effective congregations) would show up in the congregation when his son was a student at William and Mary. The same with a Reformation history scholar, whose daughter was at the College. Yesterday the pre-eminent American Lutheran scholar of worship was part of the 8:30 congregation! (Yesterday was the Youth Sunday service. I told Robin Hudson after the service that Gordon Lathrop had been in the congregation. She said, "I'm glad you waited until after the service to tell me that!")

I rode my bicycle 100 miles today (a century), in the "Capital to Capital" century ride from Jamestown to Richmond and back. For the first 50 miles it was only chilly. For the next 35 miles it rained and at times it poured. But, as I made it back east, the rain let up and then stopped. But the day never got warm! A hot shower felt wonderful when I got home.

I guess my lungs are doing ok, huh?

Early this morning we had some plumbing work completed. The plumber (who's done a lot of work for us) had planned to finish the job two days ago, but ran out of time. And then there was a communication mix-up, so he didn't finish yesterday. The result was that Patty couldn't use her shower this morning. (We have three showers in the house, so this was far from an imposition.)

But this morning the plumber was racing around, extremely anxious, apologizing profusely for the delay, until I finally stopped him and said, "You know what? I nearly died this past October. All these things you're worrying about? They don't matter."

He said, "Thank you for your kindness," and he relaxed a little bit. I hope he'll be more relaxed during the rest of the day.

Six months ago I was in the midst of the darkest days in the hospital. (I should say that Patty was in the midst of those days -- I was so heavily sedated that I had no idea what was going on.) This Thursday will be the six month anniversary of the diagnosis of histoplasmosis. What a turning point that was, with immediate improvement that began as they started the awful but effective drug to attack the fungal infection.

In my prayer I often re-visit the hospitalization and the early days of recovery. And now, how easy it is to take things for granted, "back to normal." For instance, I remember how I came to hate the physical immobility in the hospital bed, of having to sleep on my back 100% of the time. How thankful I was, those first nights at home, to be able to sleep on my side!! Now -- it takes conscious effort to think of that luxury, and to be thankful for it. I remember when the pulmonologist removed the tracheotomy, and the speech therapist came in to test my swallowing ability. She gave me a sip of ice cold apple juice!! It was the best thing I'd ever tasted!! (It was the first liquid I'd had to drink in weeks.) Now -- how easy it is, in the morning, to quickly gulp down juice with a hurried breakfast, giving no thought to it.

It is a spiritual practice to remember and to give thanks. To give thanks for the ability to sleep on my side, the blessing of waking up at home, rather than from an Ativan-assisted night of "sleep" in the hospital, for apple juice for breakfast, for the ability to swallow food, for the ability to breath room air without the aid of a ventilator. What blessings from God that fill each day!

This past Sunday, several folks commented on how well I look. I really think I'm back to 100% energy and activity. (That, of course, makes it harder to remember and to give thanks! Sigh...) This Saturday is the Capital to Capital bicycle ride, from Jamestown to Richmond and back. That would be 100 miles (a century). Of course, there are turn-around points on the route. Last year I rode 75 miles of the route. I have no idea how far I'll ride this year; I'll just get out there and start pedaling and pay attention to how my body is feeling. This past Saturday afternoon I did ride a half-century (50 miles) on the beautiful new Bianchi that I bought to celebrate my recovery. After the ride on Saturday, I plan to e-mail a photograph of me and my bike with my mileage to a couple of doctors and a respiratory therapist who were especially important to my care, to thank them for taking care of me.